Their confusion did not last long, for in a few minutes they saw Yasin heading toward them. From the way he looked up at them, they imagined he did not realize what problems lay in store for him in the house, although even they did not know the extent of the trouble. Fahmy was not surprised, for he knew that Yasin paid little attention to problems other people found oppressive.
Yasin was overwhelmed by the breathtaking sensation of having emerged triumphant from an adventure that had caused him to forget most of his problems, if only temporarily. He had been on his way to the house when a soldier, apparently popping up from nowhere, had blocked his way. Yasin had trembled all over, expecting unprecedented evil or at least a distressing insult that would be observed by the shop owners and passers by. He had not hesitated to defend himself, addressing the soldier gently and ingratiatingly, as though asking permission to pass: "Please, sir".
The soldier had asked for a match and smiled. Yes, he had smiled. Yasin had been so astonished to see him smile that he had encountered difficulty understanding what he wanted until the soldier repeated his request. He had never imagined that an English soldier would smile that way. Even if English soldiers smiled like other human beings, he would not have thought one would smile at him so politely. He had been transported by delight and remained frozen for a few moments, neither offering an answer nor making a motion. Then with all the energy he could muster, he had tackled this simple assignment for the mighty, smiling soldier. Since he did not smoke and did not carry any matches, he had gone at once to al-Hajj Darwish, who sold beans, and purchased a box of matches. Then he had rushed back to the soldier, holding it out to him. The soldier had taken it and said, in English, "Thank you".
Yasin had not yet recovered from the impact of that magical smile. Now here was "thank you". It was like a glass of beer a person drinks to refresh himself when he has had enough whiskey. It filled Yasin with gratitude and pride. His pudgy face blushed and beamed as though the words "thank you" were a high decoration with which he had been publicly invested. It practically guaranteed that he would be able to go and come as he pleased in perfect safety. As soon as the soldier gave the first sign of moving away, Yasin told him in a friendly manner that came straight from his heart, "Good luck, sir".
Yasin proceeded to the house almost reeling with joy. What good luck he had had… An Englishman-not an Australian or an Indian-had smiled at him and thanked him… An Englishman-in other words, the kind of man he imagined to embody all the perfections of the human race. Yasin probably detested the English as all Egyptians did, but deep inside he respected and venerated them so much that he frequently imagined they were made from a different stuff than the rest of mankind. This man had smiled at him and thanked him… Yasin had answered him correctly, imitating English pronunciation so far as his mouth would allow. He had succeeded splendidly and had merited the man’s thanks.
How could he believe the brutal acts attributed to them? Why had they exiled Sa'd Zaghlul if they were so gracious? His enthusiasm faded the moment his eyes fell on Mrs. Amina and Fahmy. From their expressions he could grasp that something was wrong. His worries, from which he had been temporarily severed, wound round him like a rope. He realized that he was confronted once more by the problem from which he had fled early that morning. Pointing upstairs, he asked, "Why isn't she sitting with you? Is she still angry?"
Amina exchanged a glance with Fahmy. Then she muttered nervously, "She’s gone to her father".
He raised his eyebrows in astonishment or alarm. Then he asked her, "Why did you let her go?"
Amina replied with a sigh, "She slipped out without anyone noticing".
He felt he ought to say something to defend his honor in front of his brother and stepmother. He declared scornfully, "Whatever she wants".
Fahmy decided to resist his urge to keep silent. He wanted his brother to think he knew nothing about his secret and also wished to dispel any suspicion that he had heard it from his mother. He asked simply, "What caused this misfortune?"
Yasin gave him a searching look. He waved his large hand and grimaced as if to say, "Nothing’s caused any misfortune". Then he observed, "Girls today no longer have the ability to get along with people". Looking at Mrs. Amina, he asked, "Where are the ladies of yesteryear?"
Amina bowed her head, apparently from embarrassment but actually to hide a smile that got the better of her when her mind tried to reconcile the image of Yasin now-contemplative, hortatory, and victimized-with the Yasin of the previous evening when he had been caught on the roof. All the same, Yasin’s discomfort was far greater than the circumstances allowed him to admit. Despite the oppressive disappointment he had sustained in his married life, he had never thought for a moment of terminating it. He found in marriage a secure haven and refuge, not to mention the promise of imminent fatherhood, which he welcomed enthusiastically. He had always hoped to have his marriage waiting for him when he returned from his various sorties like an explorer returning to his homeland at the end of the year. He was not oblivious to the new conflict between him and his father as well as Mr. Iffat that would result from his wife’s departure. All of this would be further clouded by the scandal. Its odor would be diffused until it stopped up everyone’s nostrils… The bitch! He had been fully determined to bring her around gradually to confessing that her error was more serious than his. Indeed, he may even have been so convinced that he felt it would certainly happen. He had sworn to make her apologize and to discipline her, but she had departed. She had turned his plans upside down and left him in an extremely awkward crisis. The bitch!
He was wrenched from his stream of thoughts by a scream that rent the silence enveloping the house. He turned toward Fahmy and his stepmother. He found they were trying hard to listen, looking concerned and anxious. The screaming continued, and they easily ascertained that it came from a woman. Their eyes showed that they were wondering what direction it came from and what the cause was. Was it announcing a death or a fight or calling for help? Amina began to ask God’s protection against all evils.
Then Fahmy said, "It’s near… perhaps on our street". He rose suddenly, furrowing his brow, and asked, "Could it be that the English have attacked a woman who walked past them?"
He rushed to the balcony with the others trailing behind. The screaming stopped, leaving no indication of the direction from which it had come. The three of them looked through the peephole in the latticework to search the street. Their eyes came to rest on a woman who attracted attention by the strange way she was standing in the center of the street and by the circle of passers by and storekeepers gathered around her. They recognized her immediately and cried out together, "Umm Hanafi!"..
Amina had sent the servant to get Kamal from school. She asked, "Why don't I see Kamal with her? What’s making her stand there like a statue?"
"Kamal… My Lord… where’s Kamal?"
Relying on her intuition, the mother said, "She’s the one who screamed. I recognize her voice now… Where’s Kamal? Save me…"
Neither Fahmy nor Yasin uttered a word. They were busy searching the roadway in general and the English camp in particular for Kamal. They saw people looking toward the soldiers, most notably Umm Hanafi. They were certain that it was Umm Hanafi who had screamed and thus gathered the people around her. They felt instinctively that she was calling for help because some danger was threatening Kamal. Their fears centered on the English. But what was the danger? Where was Kamal? What had happened to the boy?