Bareheaded, the three men, who had removed their cloaks, were scattered around the room. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad shook hands with them and then warmly clasped the hands of the women.
Jalila greeted him, "Welcome, dear brother."
Zubayda cast him a censorious smile as she said, "Welcome to a person who would deserve nothing but goodbye from us, except for common courtesy."
The man removed his cloak and fez and looked around for a vacant place. Zubayda had taken a seat next to Jalila. He hesitated a little before going to their sofa and sitting there. His vacillation did not escape the eyes of Ali Abd al-Rahim, who said, "You almost seem a novice at this."
Jalila tried to encourage al-Sayyid Ahmad by telling Ali Abd al-Rahim, "Leave him alone. There's never been any reserve between us."
Zubayda was quick to laugh and say scornfully, "I'm the one with the most right to say that. Isn't he my in-law?"
Al-Sayyid Ahmad understood her allusion and wondered anxiously how much she knew of the whole affair. But he replied tenderly, "It's my honor, sultana."
Gazing at him suspiciously, Zubayda asked, "Are you really pleased with what's happened?"
He answered suavely, "Only because you're her aunt."
Waving her hand in disapproval, she said, "My heart will never forgive her."
Before al-Sayyid Ahmad could ask why, Ali Abd al-Rahim, who was rubbing his hands together, yelled, "Save the conversation till we've filled our heads". After rising and going to the table, he opened a bottle and poured drinks, which he presented to them, one at a time, with a solicitude that revealed his customary satisfaction with tending bar. Then he waited until everyone was ready before saying, "To the health of our lovers, our brothers, and music. May we never lack these three things."
Smiling, they raised their glasses to their lips. Ahmad Abd al-Jawad looked over the rim of his at the faces of his companions, these friends with whom he had shared affection and loyalty for almost forty years. They almost seemed slivers of his heart. He could not keep his feelings of sincere fraternal affection from agitating his breast. As his eyes turned to Zubayda, he resumed his conversation with her, asking, "Why won't your heart forgive her?"
She cast him a glance that made him feel she welcomed this chance to talk and replied, "Because she's a traitor with no respect for promises. She betrayed me more than a year ago. She left my house without asking permission and disappeared."
Was it possible she really did not know where Zanuba had been during that time? Since he did not care to offer the least comment on her words, she finally asked him, "Didn't you hear about that?"
"I did eventually."
"I've taken care of her since she was a child and have looked after her as though I were her mother. See how I've been rewarded! To hell with her genes!"
Pretending to object, Ali Abd al-Rahim teased her, "Don't insult her family. You're part of it."
But Zubayda replied seriously, "She doesn't have any of my genes."
Al-Sayyid Ahmad inquired, "Who do you suppose her father was?"
"Her father!" This comment emerged from Ibrahim al-Far in a tone that suggested a string of sarcastic remarks was to follow, but Muhammad Iffat headed him off by interjecting, "Remember you're talking about Yasin's wife."
The mirthful look left al-Far's face, and he retreated into an uneasy silence. Then Zubayda spoke up again: "I'm not joking about her. She envied me for a long time. Even when she was in my custody she wanted to rival me. I spoiled her and pretended not to see her defects". Then she laughed and continued: "She wanted to be a soloist, a vocalist". Looking around at her friends, she observed sarcastically, "But she failed and got married."
Ali Abd al-Rahim asked incredulously, "In your opinion, does marriage constitute failure?"
She squinted an eye at him and raised the eyebrow of the other one and then answered, "Yes, fellow. A performer never leaves her troupe unless she's a failure."
Then Jalila sang, "You're the wine, my love. You've cheered us up."
Al-Sayyid Ahmad grinned broadly and greeted the song with a gentle sigh that revealed his delight. But Ali Abd al-Rahim rose once more, saying, "A moment of silence until we finish off this round". He filled the glasses again, redistributed them, and returned to his seat with his own drink.
Grasping his glass, al-Sayyid Ahmad glanced at Zubayda, who turned toward him and smilingly raised her drink as if to say, "To your health". He imitated her and they both drank at the same time. She was gazing at him with a merry look. A year had passed since he had felt like looking for a woman. The harsh experience he had endured seemed to have deadened his enthusiasm, but pride or ill health could also have been responsible. Even so, the combined influence of alcoholic intoxication and this affectionate look stirred his heart. He savored the sweetness of this welcome, which followed a bitter rejection. He considered this a friendly greeting from the entire sex he had been so fond of all his life. It bound up his wounded dignity, which had fallen victim to betrayal and age. Zubayda's eloquent smile seemed to say, "Your day's not finished yet". He kept looking and smiling at her.
Muhammad Iffat brought the lute and placed it between the two women. Jalila picked it up and began to play. Once she was confident of their attention, she sang, "Beloved, I promise you…"
As usual when he heard Jalila or Zubayda sing, Ahmad Abd al-Jawad pretended to be moved by the music. He nodded his head appreciatively, as if wishing to induce ecstasy by acting it out. The truth was that all he had left from the world of song was a set of memories. The great performershe had admired, like al-Hamuli, Uthman, al-Manilawi, and Abd al-Hayy, had passed away — just as his youthful era of conquests had vanished. He would have to accusto tn himself to taking pleasure in what was at hand and in triggering a feeling of ecstasy by going through the motions. His love of song and infatuation with music had led him to visit the theater of Munira al-Mahdiya, but he had not liked the combination of theater and music. Besides, he chafed at sitting in a theater like a school auditorium. At Muhammad Iffat's house he had also listened to records of the new singer Umm Kalthoum but only with a cautious and suspicious ear. He did not enjoy her singing., even though it was said that Sa'd Zaghlul had praised the beauty of her voice.
Yet his appearance gave no hint of his feelings as he gazed at Jalila with happy delight and sang the words of the refrain, "I hold you responsible," with the others in his pleasing voice.
Then al-Far cried out with regret, "Where, oh where is the tambourine? Where is it so we can hear the son of Abd al-Jawad?"
"Ask rather: Where's the Ahmad Abd al-Jawad who used to play the tambourine?" he said to himself. "Oh… why has time changed us?"
Jalila ended her song in an atmosphere of receptive approval. But with a grateful smile she said apologetically, "I'm tired."
Zubayda heaped her with praise. The two performers frequently complimented each other either from politeness or from a desire to keep the peace. Everyone realized that as a performer Jalila's star was rapidly setting. One of the most recent indications of that was the desertion of her tambourine player, Fino, to another troupe. This eclipse was only natural, given the withering away of all the qualities on which her past glory had rested: her charm, beauty, and voice. For that reason, Zubayda no longer felt particularly envious of her and was capable of flattering her former rival good-humoredly, especially since Zubayda had reached the pinnacle of her career, one that could only be followed by a decline.