Kamal replied sincerely, "Hasan's a fine young man who deserves praise for his character and intelligence."
"I heard my father say once that his father's an extraordinary and fair judge, except when it comes to political cases."
This opinion coincided with Kamal's own prejudice, since he knew that Salim Bey Sabry favored the Liberal Constitutionalists. He said sarcastically, "That means that he has a brilliant legal mind but is unfit to judge."
Husayn laughed loudly and then said, "I forgot I was speaking toaWafdist."
Shrugging his shoulders, Kamal answered, "But your father isn't one! Imagine Salim Bey Sabry judging conspiracy and murder charges against Wafdists like Abd al-Rahman Fahmy or al-Nuqrashi…"
Had his opinion of Salim Bey Sabry been well received by Husayn? Yes, that could be seen clearly in his handsome eyes, to which prevarication and hypocrisy were alien. Perhaps Husayn's appreciation of this criticism could be attributed to the rivalry — no matter how muted by refined manners and decorum — that often arises between peers. Shaddad Bey was a millionaire, a wealthy man with status and prestige, who also had a long-standing relationship with the Khedive Abbas. Salim Bey Sabry, on the other hand, was a superior court judge for the largest judicial circuit in a land where official titles inspired people to veneration. It was inevitable that high rank and vast wealth should occasionally look askance at each other.
Husayn gazed at the vast garden calmly but sadly. The palms had been stripped of their hanging fronds, the rose bushes were denuded, the lush green of the vegetation had faded, and the smiles of the flowers had disappeared from the mouths of the buds. The garden appeared to be plunged in grief over the advent of winter. Gesturing toward the view, he said, "See what winter has done. This will be our last meeting in the garden. But you're one of winter's admirers."
Kama! really was fond of winter, but he loved A'ida more than winter, summer, fall, and spring put together. He would never be able to forgive winter for depriving him of the happy reunions in the gazebo. Yet he agreed: "Winter's a brief, beautiful season. In the cold overcast conditions and the drizzle there's a vitality to which the heart responds."
"It seems to me that winter's advocates are normally energetic and industrious. You're that way, and so is Hasan Salim."
Kamal rejoiced at this praise but wished most of it had been reserved for him. "I only expend half my energy on school assignments," he said. "The life of the intellect ranges far beyond school."
Husayn nodded his head approvingly and commented, "I don't think there's a school that could use up all the hours you devote to study each day. By the way, I think you're overdoing it, although occasionally I envy you. Tell me what you're reading now."
Kamal was delighted by this kind of conversation. Next to A'ida, it was wtiat he loved best. He answered, "I can tell you my reading has become more systematic. It's no longer a question of reading anything I want stories in translation, selections of poetry, or critical essays. I've begun to proceed in a slightly more enlightened manner. I recently started spending two hours every evening at the National Library. There I look up the meanings of deep and mysterious words in the encyclopedia, terms like 'literature,'
'philosophy,'
'thought,' and 'culture.' As I read, I jot down the names of books I come across. It's an extraordinary world. My soul dissolves in it from eager curiosity."
Husayn listened with attentive interest, leaning back in his rattan chair and putting his hands in the pockets of his dark blue English jacket. On his broad lips there was a pure smile of empathy. He said, "That's really beautiful. Once you asked me what you should read. Now it's my turn to confer with you. Do you see clearly where you're heading?"
"Gradually…. It seems I'm moving toward philosophy."
Husayn raised his eyebrows and said with a smile, "Philosophy? That's a provocative word. Be careful not to mention it within Isma'il's hearing. I've thought for a long time that you're destined for literature."
"Don't feel bad about it. Literature's a lofty form of entertainment, but that's not enough for me. My primary goal is the truth. What is God? What is man? What is the spirit? What is matter? Philosophy gathers all these together into a single, luminous, logical synthesis — as I've recently learned. That's what I crave with all my heart. This is the real journey. Compared with it, your trip around the world is secondary. Imagine! It will allow me to find a satisfactory answer to all these questions."
Husayn's face lit up with enthusiasm and desire as he said, "That's really extraordinary. I won't hesitate to accompany you into this magical world. In fact, I've read some chapters about Greek philosophy, even if I didn't get much out of that. I don't like plunging into things the way you do. I pluck one flower here and another there. Then I flit back and forth. Let me tell you frankly that I fear philosophy will terminate your relationship with literature, for you're not satisfied with learning about something. You want to think and to write. I believe it won't be possible for you to be a philosopher and a literary figure at the same time."
"Nothing will separate me from literature. Love of truth is not incompatible with the enjoyment of beauty. But work is one thing and relaxation another. I've determined to make philosophy my work and literature my relaxation."
Husayn laughed suddenly. Then he said, "So that's how you're going to duck out of your promise to write a story uniting all of us inside the covers of a book."
Karml could not help but laugh too. He answered, "But I hope to write about 'man' one day. So you'll be part of that."
"I'm not nearly as interested in 'man' as I am in our individual personalities. Wait till I report you to A'ida."
When Kamal heard this name, his heart pounded with recognition, affection, and desire. He felt intoxicated, as if overwhelmed by a livery and expressive tune. Did Husayn really think the matter merited A'ida's censure? How ignorant he was! How could it have escaped him that there was no emotion Kamal felt, idea he pondered, or desire he nurtured that did not have the splendor of A'ida and her spirit glistening across its horizons.
"You wait. Time will show that I won't renege on my commitment so long as I live". Then after a moment he asked in a serious voice, "Why haven't you thought about being a writer? Your circumstances leave you free to devote yourself to this art."
Husayn shrugged his shoulders disdainfully and replied, "I should write so people can read? Why shouldn't people write so I can read?"
"Which of the two is of greater importance?"
"Don't ask me which is more important. Ask which is more pleasant. I consider work the human curse, but not because I'm lazy. Certainly not! Work is a waste of time. It imprisons the individual and gets in the way of living. A life of leisure is the happy one."
Kamal gave him a look that indicated he did not take his friend's words too seriously. Then he said, "I don't know what life a man would have if it weren't for work. An absolutely empty hour is certainly more tedious than a year filled with work."
"What wretchedness! The very truth of your statement confirms how miserable things are. Do you think I'm able to enjoy absolute leisure? Certainly not, alas. I still while away my hours with useful and necessary tasks. But I hope one day to achieve a state of total inactivity."
Kamal started to answer Husayn, but a voice behind them asked, "I wonder what they're talking about". Once this voice, this prei: ty melody, came within earshot his heart began to vibrate. The response came from deep inside him. Her words and his heart seemed to be different harmonious elements of a single tune. His soul was immediately freed of its bounding thoughts, and an absolute emptiness pervaded it. Was this the kind of total emptiness Husayn dreamt of? It was nothing in itself, but happiness pervaded it.