Slowly his intimate knowledge of her made him feel like one of the family, watching her at work and at rest. It especially delighted Zaita to watch her beating her husband. She did this at his slightest mistake. Jaada's days seemed to be filled with mistakes, for which he was constantly pummeled. Indeed, beatings were almost a part of his daily routine. Sometimes he would accept them in silence, and at other times he howled wildly and his fists swung in the air. He never failed to burn the bakery bread, and he regularly stole a little something, which he secretly ate when his duties permitted. Sometimes he bought a special sweet cake from money he earned for delivering bread to the alley houses. He made no attempt to stop or conceal his daily petty crimes; consequently, he could not avoid his wife's painful beatings.
Zaita marveled at the man's servility, cowardice, and stupidity. It was a bit surprising that Zaita should find him ugly and constantly scoff at his appearance: Jaada was extremely tall, with long arms, and his lower jaw jutted out. Long and often Zaita had envied him the pleasures of his formidable wife, whom Zaita both admired and desired. As it was, he despised Jaada and often wished he could toss him in the oven with the dough. And so it seemed natural to Zaita to sit pleasantly with his wife in the absence of the cowardly baker. Now he sat quite lost in his fantasies that centered on the bakeress.
Husniya rose, walked to where he sat, and bellowed out, "Why do you sit there like that?"
Zaita said a silent prayer: "O God, spare me her wrath," and then replied in a friendly manner, "I'm your guest and a guest ought not be insulted."
"Why don't you crawl off and spare me your face?"
His yellowed fangs showed as he smiled and said seriously, "A man can't spend his whole life among beggars and garbage. One must sometimes see nobler sights and people."
"Meaning you can inflict your revolting sight and filthy smell on others?" she asked. "Go away and lock the door behind you!"
"I know of more disgusting sights and filthier smells."
Husniya realized he was referring to her husband, and her face paled as she asked menacingly, "Just what do you mean by that, you snake?"
"Our charming friend, Jaada," answered Zaita, his courage causing him some surprise.
Husniya shouted at him in her terrifying voice, "Be careful, you rat! If I hit you I'll split you in two!"
Zaita paid no attention to the danger looming before him and continued: "I told you guests shouldn't be insulted. Anyway I criticize Jaada because I'm quite sure you have nothing but loathing for him, plus the fact that you beat him up at the slightest excuse."
"Why, his little fingernail is worth more than all of you!"
"Well, I know what you're worth — but as for Jaada…"
"Do you think you're better than he is?"
Zaita's annoyance was obvious. His mouth dropped in amazement, not because he thought he was better than Jaada, but because he thought the comparison was an unpardonable insult. How could he be compared to that lowest of all forms of animal life who had not a single vestige of civilization in his character or personality?
"What do you think, Husniya?"
"I told you what I think," she snapped.
"That animal?"
"He's a man," she shouted. "Not like some I know, you ugly devil…"
"That creature you treat like a stray dog? You call him a man?" She heard the jealousy in his voice and it pleased her. No, she wouldn't hit him, much as she longed to. Rather she decided to feed his envy. "That's something you can't understand. You'll die longing for the blows that fall on him."
"Probably a beating from you is too good for me," said Zaita invitingly.
"Yes, it's an honor you'll never really know, you worm!" Zaita sat thinking a moment. Could she really like living with that animal? He had often asked himself this question but had always refused to believe it was so. After all, what else could she do but defend him like a loyal wife. And he was still sure she was being less than fully frank. His greedy eyes stared at her ample and firm body, and his determination and stubbornness increased. His imagination worked furiously, his lecherous eyes glistened with the feverish fancies conjured up by the empty room.
As for Husniya, his jealousy delighted her and she was not in the least afraid of being alone with him. Her confidence lay in her own strength. She said to Zaita sarcastically, "As for you, you chunk of earth… first, get all that filth off your body and then maybe you can speak to people."
She was not angry. If she had been, nothing would have prevented her from giving him a beating. She was deliberately flirting with him and Zaita was quick to see that the opportunity should be seized.
"You can't even tell the difference between dust and gold dust," he said, pleased with his joke.
"Do you deny that you're just a chunk of clay?" she asked.
"We are all clay," Zaita replied, shrugging his shoulders.
"Shame on you! You're just dirt on dirt, filth piled on filth, and that's why you're only fit to disfigure people. You love to draw other people down to your own filthy level."
Zaita merely chuckled at this and his hopes increased. "But I am the best of people, not the worst," he said. "Don't you realize that regular beggars don't earn a penny, whereas if I give them a deformity they can earn their weight in gold. It's a man's worth, not his appearance, that counts. Now as for our friend Jaada, why he's neither handsome nor worth anything."
"Are you going back to that again?" demanded Husniya threateningly.
Zaita thought it best to abandon the subject he had deliberately broached. He went on in the tone of a public speaker.
"And apart from that, all my customers are professional beggars. What would you have me do with them? Would you like me to pretty them up and set them loose in the streets at the mercy of their 'well-wishers'?"
"You're a real devil! You talk like one and look like one, too."
Zaita sighed audibly and as though meekly seeking sympathy said, "Nevertheless, I was once upon a time a king."
"A king of devils?" she asked.
In the same tone of humility Zaita replied, "No, of mankind. Which of us is not at first welcomed into the world like a king of kings, to be later carried wherever ill fortune decrees. This is one of nature's wisest treacheries. Were it to show us first what is in store for us, we would all refuse to leave the womb."
"What next, you son of a whore!"
Zaita continued, his self-assurance unwavering: "And so I, too, was once a happy creature whom loving hands coddled and enfolded with tender care. Do you doubt that I was once a king?"
"Not for a moment, master!" Her tone was now sarcastic.
Intoxicated by the power of his oratory and filled with anticipation, Zaita went on: "Moreover, my birth was considered a most fortunate blessing. My parents were both professional beggars. They hired a baby, which my mother carried on their rounds, and when God gave them me, they had no need for other people's children. So they were delighted."
At this, Husniya burst into a resounding laugh. This increased Zaita's confidence and desire and he continued: "Oh, what memories I have of my happy childhood! I still remember my resting place on the sidewalk. I would crawl on all fours until I reached the street curb. I'd rest at a spot where there was a mudhole. All kinds of scum and insects floated on its surface. It was a beautiful sight! The water was full of garbage and its shores consisted of rubbish of all colors — tomato skins, fruit stains, beans, filth, and flies floating all around it and falling in. I would lift my eyelids, weighted down with flies, and I'd wallow about in that delightful summer resort. I was the happiest person alive…"
"Oh, how lucky you were," commented Husniya sarcastically.
Her pleasure and the way she listened delighted him, and he went on, even more encouraged: "This is the secret of my love for what you call filth. Man is capable of growing fond of anything, no matter how strange. That's why I'm afraid for you, getting attached to that animal."