"I haven't budged."
"I don't know why, but I believe that you will never marry."
"You've always been very perceptive."
Smiling warmly as though to apologize in advance for what he was going to say, Fuad commented, "You're an egotistical man. You insist on maintaining total control over your life. Brother, the Prophet married, and that did not prevent him from having a sublime spiritual life". Then, laughing, he emended his statement: "Excuse me for using the Prophet as an example. I almost forgot that you … But not so fast. You're no longer the same old atheist. Now you even doubt atheism. This represents a gain for belief."
Kamal replied calmly, "Let's skip the philosophizing. You don't enjoy it. Tell me why you haven't married yet, since this is what you think of the single life."
He immediately sensed that he should not have brought up this topic, for fear his friend would consider it a hint to ask for Na'ima's hand. But Fuad gave no sign of having understood his words in this manner. Instead, he laughed aloud although without abandoning his dignified demeanor and answered, "You know, I've only recently started to enjoy the seamy side of life.
Unlike you, I wasn't corrupted early in life. I haven't had enough fun yet."
"Will you marry when you have?"
As if to brush aside the temptation to prevaricate, Fuad waved his hand backwards through the air and confessed, "Since I've waited this long, I need to be patient a little longer, until I become a judge, for example. Then I'll be able to marry the daughter of a cabinet minister if I want."
"You son of Jamil al-Hamzawi!" Kamal exclaimed to himself. "The bridegroom of a cabinet official's daughter… her mother-in-law would be from the working-class district of al-Mubayyada. Even though he justified the presence of evil in the world, I defy Leibniz to justify this."
Kamal said, "You consider marriage a…"
Before he could complete this statement, Fuad laughingly interrupted: "At least that's better than not considering it at all."
"But happiness…"
"Don't philosophize! Happiness is a subjective art. You may find bliss with the daughter of a cabinet minister and nothing but misery with a girl from your own background. Marriage is a treaty like the one al-Nahhas signed yesterday. It involves haggling, realistic appraisals, shrewdness, perspicacity, gains and losses. In our country this is the only door to advancement. Last week a man not yet forty was appointed a senior judge for the appeals court, while I could devote a lifetime of diligent and tireless service to the judicial system without ever attaining such an exalted position."
What was the primary-school teacher to say? He would spend his entire life at the sixth level of the civil service, even if philosophy did fill his head to overflowing.
"Your position should save you from having to resort to such stratagems."
"If it weren't for strategic alliances of this kind, no prime minister would ever be able to assemble a cabinet."
Kamal laughed lifelessly and observed, "You're in need of some philosophy. You would benefit from a spoonful of Spinoza."
"Sip as much of it as you want, but spare us. Tell me where a man can have a good time and find something to drink. In Qena I had to take my pleasures cautiously, on the sly. A position like mine forces a man to be discreet and private. The constant struggle between us and the police means that we must be extra careful. A public prosecutor has a tedious and sensitive job."
"We're returning to talk that threatens to make me explode with bitterness," Kamal noted to himself. "Compared to yours, my life seems disciplined and refined, but it's also the greatest possible test in life for my skeptical philosophy."
"My circumstances," Fuad continued, "bring me together with many important people, and they invite me to their mansions. I feel obliged to refuse their invitations in order to avoid any possible conflict of interest in the performance of my duties. But their mentality is such that they don't understand this. All the leading citizens of the region accuse me of being a snob, although I am entirely innocent of the charge."
Although saying "Yes" agreeably to his friend, Kamal thought, "You're a conceited snob who is solicitous about his position."
"For similar reasons I lost favor with the police force. Dissatisfied with their crooked procedures, I attempted to entrap them. I had the law on my side, while they had the brutality of the Middle Ages on theirs. Everyone hates me, but I'm right."
"You're right," Kamal reflected. "That's what I've always known about you. You're shrewd and honest. But you don't and can't love anyone. You don't cling to what's right simply because it is right but out of conceit, pride, and a feeling of inferiority. This is what men are like. I run into people like you even in lowly callings. A man who is both pleasant and forceful is a myth. But what value does love have? Or idealism? Or anything?"
They talked for a long time. When preparing to leave, Fuad leaned toward Kamal and whispered, "I'm new in Cairo. You naturally know of an establishment — or probably several… one that's very private, naturally…."
Smiling, Kamal replied, "A teacher, like a public prosecutor, must always take care to be discreet."
"Excellent. We'll get together soon. I'm busy arranging the new apartment now, but we'll have to spend some evenings together."
"Agreed."
They left the room together, and Kamal accompanied his friend all the way to the street. Passing by the first floor on his return, he met his mother, who stood waiting for him at the door. She inquired anxiously, "Didn't he say anything to you?"
He understood what she meant, and that tormented him terribly. But he pretended not to understand and asked in turn, "About what?"
"Na'ima?"
He answered resentfully, "Absolutely not."
"Amazing!"
They exchanged a long look. Then Amina continued: "But al-Hamzawi spoke to your father about it."
Concealing his fury as best he could, Kamal said, "Perhapshe spoke without having consulted his son."
Amina retorted angrily, "What a silly idea. Doesn't he know how lucky he would be to get her? Your father should have reminded him who he is."
"Fuad's not to blame. Perhaps his father, with all the best intentions, spoke rashly, without thinking it over."
"But he must have told his son. Did Fuad refuse… that boy who was transformed into a distinguished civil servant by our money?"
"There's no need to talk about that."
"Son, this is unimaginable. Doesn't he know that accepting him into our family does us no honor?"
"Then don't be upset if it doesn't happen."
"I'm not upset about it. But I'm angered by the insult."
"There has been no insult. It's just a misunderstanding."
He returned to his room, sad and embarrassed, telling himself, "Na'ima's a beautiful rose. Yet, since I'm a man whose only remaining merit is love of truth, I must ask whether she is really a good match for a public prosecutor. Although he comes from a modest background, he will be able to find a spouse who is better educated, from a more distinguished family, wealthier, and prettier too. His good-natured father was too hasty. But he's not to blame. Still, Fuad's remarks to me were impudent. He certainly is impertinent. He's bright, honest, competent, insolent, and conceited, although it's not his fault. It's the result of the factors dividing, men from each other. They infect us with all these maladies."
130
Al-Fikr magazine occupied the ground floor of number 21 Abd al-Aziz Street. The barred window in the office of its proprietor, Mr. Abd al-Aziz al-Asyuti, overlooked the tenebrous Barakat Alley, and therefore the light inside was left on both night and day. Whenever Kamal approached the magazine's headquarters, the gloomy premises and shabby furniture reminded him of the status of thought in his land and of his own position in his society. Mr. Abd al-Aziz greeted him with an affectionate smile of welcome. This was hardly surprising, for they had known each other since 1930, when Kamal had begun sending the magazine his essays on philosophy. During the past six years his collaboration with the editor had been mutually supportive, if unremunerated. In fact, the magazine paid none of its writers for their efforts, which were undertaken solely for the advancement of philosophy and culture.