She had anticipated this encounter, but was plagued with doubts; she neither liked nor disliked him. Perhaps it was because he was the only young man in the alley suitable for her that she refrained from ignoring him or dealing with him with decisive cruelty. Hamida decided to excuse his crossing her path once again and satisfy herself with a mild rebuke, for if she had wanted to deal him a stunning blow she could have done so.
In spite of her limited experience in life, she was aware of the great gulf between this humble young man and her own greedy ambitions, which could ignite her natural aggressiveness and turn it into uncontrollable savagery and violence. She would be wildly happy if she saw a look of defiance or self-confidence in anyone's eyes, but this look of simple humility in Abbas' eyes left her emotionless. She felt neither attraction nor aversion toward him. But he was the only suitable young man in the alley. Had it not been for her belief in marriage as her natural destiny she would not have hesitated to reject him cruelly. For these reasons she was pleased to encourage him so that she might eventually discover what he was really like and what he wanted. She hoped by this method to solve her own disturbing indecision.
Abbas was afraid she might remain silent until they came to the end of the street and so he muttered imploringly, "Good evening…"
Her handsome bronze-colored face showed the trace of a smile and she slowed her walk, sighed in feigned annoyance, and asked, "What do you want?"
He saw her faint smile and took no notice of her apparent annoyance. He replied hopefully, "Let's turn off into Azhar Street. It's quieter there and it's beginning to get dark."
She turned toward Azhar Street without a word. And he followed her, almost giddy with joy. The memory of his words, "It's quieter there and it's beginning to get dark," lingered in her mind and she realized that she dreaded the idea of anyone seeing them. The corner of her mouth twisted in a cruel smile. Morals were no part of her rebellious nature. She had grown up in an atmosphere almost entirely outside their shelter and without the restriction that they impose. Her own capricious nature and the fact that her mother was rarely home had only increased her indifference to them. She had always followed her own primitive nature, fighting and quarreling with no concern for anything, least of all questions of morality.
Abbas now caught up with her and walked at her side. His voice expressed delight. "That was very nice of you!"
Almost angrily, she replied, "What do you want from me?"
The young man, doing his best to control his excitement, answered, "Patience is a virtue, Hamida. Be kind to me. Don't be cruel."
She turned her head toward him, keeping it covered with a corner of her cloak, and said unkindly, "Will you say what you want at once."
"Patience is a virtue… I want… I want everything that's good…"
"You don't really have anything to say," she grumbled, "and we are still walking, getting farther off our route. I can't be late getting back."
He was sorry they were wasting time and said regretfully, "We'll start back soon. Don't be afraid and don't worry. We'll think of some excuse you can tell your mother. You think a lot about a few minutes, whereas I think about the whole of life, about our life together. This is what I'm concerned about. Don't you believe me? It's the thing I think and worry about most of all, by the life of Hussain who blessed this fine quarter."
He was talking simply and sincerely and she found a new interest and pleasure in listening to him, even though he did not manage to stir her frigid heart. She tried to forget her painful indecision and gave him all her attention. She did not, however, know what to say and so just took refuge in silence. The young man was gaining confidence and he began to speak with emotion. "Don't grudge me a few moments or repeat your strange question. You ask me what I want, Hamida. Don't you really know what I want to say? Why do I come up to you in the street? Why do my eyes follow you wherever you go? You have what you want, Hamida. Don't you read anything in my eyes? Don't they say that the heart of a believer is clear for all to see? What have you learned? Ask yourself. Ask anyone in Midaq Alley, they all know."
The girl frowned and muttered as though not aware what she was saying, "You have disgraced me…"
These words horrified him and he exclaimed, "There will be no disgrace in our life and I wish you only well. This mosque of Hussain bears witness to what I say and what my intentions are. I love you. I have loved you for a long time. I love you more than your mother loves you. I swear this to you by my belief in Hussain, in the grandfather of Hussain, and in the Lord of Hussain…"
Hamida delighted in these words and her feelings of pride and vanity diminished her usual inclination toward violence and domination. She was experiencing the truth that strong words of love always please the ears, although they do not always appeal to the heart. They release the pent-up emotions.
However, her mind leaped uncontrollably from the present into the future and she asked herself what her life would be like under his protection, if his hopes were fulfilled. He was poor and what he earned was just enough to live on. He would take her from the second floor of Mrs. Saniya Afify's house to the ground floor of Radwan Hussainy's. The most she could expect from her mother would be a secondhand bed, a sofa, and a few copper pots and pans. She would only have sweeping, cooking, washing, and feeding children to look forward to. No doubt she could hope for no more than a patched dress to wear.
She shuddered as though she had seen some terrifying sight. Her inordinate desire for clothes stirred within her, as did her fierce dislike of children, for which the alley women reproached her. All these emotions affected her as well as her painful state of indecision. Now she wondered if she had been right or wrong in agreeing to walk with him.
Meanwhile Abbas gazed at her in fascination. Desire, hope, and her silent thoughtfulness increased his tension.
"Why are you silent, Hamida? One word would heal my heart and make the whole world change. One word is enough. Please speak to me, Hamida. Please break your silence."
She still remained silent and full of indecision. Abbas tried again: "One word would fill my spirit with hope and happiness. Perhaps you don't realize what my love for you has done to me. It has made me feel as I never felt before. It's made a new person of me. It's made me want to take life by the horns quite without fear. Do you know that? I have wakened from my stupor. Tomorrow you'll see me a new man…"
What did he mean? She raised her head questioningly, and his heart sang at her interest. He spoke full of confidence and pride. "Yes, I am going to put my trust in God and try my luck like the others. I am going to work for the British Army and I might easily be as successful as your brother Hussain!"
Her eyes gleamed with interest and she asked, almost as if unaware of what she said, "Really? When will that be?"
He would have preferred her to say something romantic rather than financial. He longed to have her say that sweet word he wanted so to hear. However, he thought that her interest was merely a veil woven by her modesty to conceal an emotion similar to his own. His heart burst with joy and he said, smiling broadly, "Very soon. I am going to Tell el-Kebir and I will start work there with a daily wage of twenty-five piasters. Everyone I have asked has said that this is only a small part of what people working for the Army really get. I will do all I can to save as much as possible. When the war is over — and people say that will be a long time — I will come back here and open a new barbershop in New Street or Azhar Street and I will make a luxurious home for us together, if God wishes. Pray for me, Hamida…"