With satisfaction the man said, "This is what I wanted to know. The Wafd is the people's party and represents an important and natural step in our development. The National Party is Turkish, religious, and reactionary. The Wafd Party has crystallized and purified Egyptian nationalism. It has also been a school for nationalism and democracy. But the point is that the nation is not and must not be content with this school. We want a further stage of development. We desire a school for socialism. Independence is not the ultimate goal. It's a way to obtain the people's constitutional, economic, and human rights."
Ahmad cried out enthusiastically, "What a fine statement!"
"But the Wafd must be the starting point. Young Egypt is a criminal, reactionary, Fascist movement. It's just as dangerous as the reactionary religious groups. It's nothing more than an echo of German and Italian militarism, worshipping power, demanding dictatorial control, and disparaging human values and human dignity. Like cholera and typhoid, reactionary movements are endemic to this region and need to be eradicated."
Ahmad said zealously, "We in the New Man group believe this firmly."
The editor nodded his large head sorrowfully and said, "That's why the magazine is a target for reactionaries of every stripe. They accuse me of corrupting the young."
"Just as they once denounced Socrates."
With a gratified smile, Mr. Adli Karim said, "What's your goal? I mean, which college of the University are you heading for?"
"Arts."
The editor sat up straight and remarked, "Literature is one of the greatest tools of liberation, but it can also be employed for reactionary ends. So watch your step. From the mosque university of al-Azhar and from the Dar al-Ulum teachers college have come a sickening type of literature that has left generations of Egyptians with rigid minds and broken spirits. But no matter what, science is the foundation of modern life. … Don't be surprised that a man who is considered a literary figure should tell you this frankly. We must study the sciences and absorb the scientific mentality. A person who doesn't know science is not a citizen of the twentieth century, even if he is a genius. Artists too must learn their share of science. It's no longer just for scientists. Yes, the responsibility for comprehensive and profound knowledge of the field as well as for research and discoveries in it belongs to the scientists, but every cultured person must illuminate himself with its light, embrace its principles and procedures, and use its style. Science must take the place that prophecy and religion had in the ancient world."
Ahmad endorsed his master's statement: "That's why the message of The New Man is the development of a society based on science."
Adli Karim replied with interest, "Yes. Each of us must do his part, even if he finds himself alone in the arena."
Ahmad nodded his head, and the other man continued: "Study literature as much as you want, but pay more attention to your own intellectual development than to the selections you're asked to memorize. And don't forget modern science. In addition to Shakespeare and Schopenhauer, your library must contain Comte, Darwin, Freud, Marx, and Engels. Be as zealous about this as if you were religious, and remember that each age has its prophets. The prophets of this era are the scientists."
The editor's smile indicated that the conversation was coming to an end. Ahmad rose and stretched out his hand. He said goodbye and left the room, feeling joyously alive. Outside, in the hall, remembering his subscription and the article, he looked for the other room, knocked on the door to announce himself, and entered. He saw that there were three desks in the room. Two were empty, and a girl was sitting at the third. He had not been expecting this and stopped in his tracks. He looked at her inquisitively and apprehensively. She was around twenty, with a dark brown complexion, black eyes, and black hair. There was a resolute look about her delicate nose, pointed chin, and thin lips, but that did not detract from her beauty.
Scrutinizing him, she asked, "Yes?"
To justify his presence he said, "My subscription". He paid the amount and took the receipt. Then, overcoming his nervousness, he said, "I sent an article to the magazine, and Mr. Adli Karim told me it would be here."
She invited him to have a seat in front of her desk and asked, "The title of the article, please?"
Still uncomfortable about dealing with this girl, he replied, "Education According to Le Bon."
She opened a file and flipped through some papers until she pulled out the essay. When Ahmad glimpsed his handwriting, his heart pounded. From where he sat he tried to read the red notation upon it, but she saved him the trouble, remarking, "The note says, 'To be summarized and published in the section for readers' letters.'"
Ahmad was disappointed. He looked at her for a few moments without saying anything. Then he asked, "In which issue?"
"The next one."
After some hesitation he asked, "Who will summarize it?"
"I will."
He felt annoyed but asked, "Will it bear my name?"
She laughed and answered, "Naturally. There is usually a statement to the effect that we have received a letter from the writer…" She looked at the signature on the article and continued: "Ahmad Ibrahim Shawkat. Then we provide a full summary of your ideas."
He hesitated a little before saying, "I would have preferred for you to publish it in its entirety."
Smiling, she replied, "Next time, God willing."
He looked at her silently and asked, "Are you an employee here?"
"As you can see!"
He was tempted to ask what her qualifications for the position were, but his courage failed him at the last moment. So he inquired, "What is your name, please, so I can ask for you by telephone, if I need to."
"Sawsan Hammad."
"Thank you very much."
He stood up and bade her farewell with a wave of his hand. Before departing, he turned back to say, "Please summarize it carefully."
Without looking up she replied, "I know my job."
Regietting his words, he left the room.
129
Amal was in his study wearing a loose-fitting house shirt when Umm Hanafi came to tell him, "Mr. Fuad al-Hamzawi is with my master". He rose and hurried downstairs.
So Fuad had returned to Cairo after a year's absence. The distinguished public prosecutor from Qena district was home again. The friendship and affection that filled Kamal's heart were marred by an uncomfortable feeling. His relationship with Fuad was still marked by a struggle between loving affection and jealous aversion. No matter how hard he tried to elevate himself intellectually, his instincts always forced him back down to the petty mundane level. As He descended the stair she sensed that this visit would awaken happy memories but also rub the scabs off wounds that had almost healed. When he passed through the sitting room, where the coffee hour consisting of his mother, Aisha, and Na'ima — was in session, he heard his mother whisper, "He'll ask for Na'ima's hand."
Sensing his presence, she turned to tell him, "Your friend's inside. He's so charming…. He wanted to kiss my hand, but I wouldn't let him."
Kamal found his father sitting cross-legged on the sofa and Fuad in a chair opposite. The old friends shook hands, and Kamal said, "Praise God for your safe return. Welcome, welcome! Are you on vacation?"
Smiling, al-Sayyid Ahmad answered, "No, he's been transferred to Cairo. He's finally been moved back here after a lengthy absence in Upper Egypt."
Sitting down on the sofa, Kamal said, "Congratulations! Now we hope to see you more often."
Fuad answered, "Naturally. As of the first of next month we'll be living in al-Abbasiya. We've leased an apartment near the Wayliya police station."