She stopped in astonishment and asked, "Didn't you go off with the others?"
Exhaling as if to relieve his breast of its turmoil, he replied calmly, "I let the caravan go on ahead so I could meet you."
"What do you suppose they'll think?"
He answered scornfully, "That's their problem."
She walked slowly forward, and he kept pace with her. Then his long days of patience bore fruit as he said, "Before I leave you I want to ask if you will allow me to request your hand in marriage."
Her beautiful head shot up in reaction to this surprise, but no sound escaped her, as if she could not think of anything to say. The street was empty and the streetlights were dim from the blue paint applied as a precaution for air raids. He asked her again, "Will you give me permission?"
In a faint voice with a hint of censure to it she said, "This is the way you talk, but what an approach. The fact is that you've stunned me."
He laughed gently and then said, "I apologize for that, although I would have thought the long history of our friendship would have prevented my words from coming as a startling surprise."
"You mean our friendship and our academic collaboration?"
He was not comfortable with her choice of words but said, "I mean my obvious affection that has taken the form of 'friendship and academic collaboration,' as you put it."
In a jolly but shaky voice she inquired, "Your affection?"
With stubborn sincerity he replied, "I mean my love, my unconcealed love. Usually we do not announce it merely to proclaim it but to rejoice at hearing it proclaimed."
To string him along until she could regain her composure, she said, "The whole thing comes as a surprise to me."
"I'm sad to hear this."
"Why? The truth is that I don't know what to say…."
Laughing, he responded, "Say, 'You have my permission.' Then leave the rest to me."
"But, but… I don't know anything about… No offense, we really have been friends, yet you've never spoken of… I mean there has never been an occasion for you to tell me about yourself."
"Don't you know me?"
"Of course I know you, but there are other things one has to know."
"You mean the traditional things? Those questions are best suited to a heart that has never been a prisoner of love". He felt annoyed but this only made him more obstinate. He continued: "Everything will become clear at the proper time."
Regaining control of herself, she asked, "Isn't this the proper time?"
He smiled wanly and replied, "You're right. Are you referring to the future?"
"Naturally."
This "naturally" exasperated him. He had hoped to hear a song and instead had been subjected to the drone of a lecture, but no matter what happened it was important for him to retain his self-confidence. The icy darling did not know how happy it would make him to make her happy.
"Once I graduate, I'll get a job". Then after a few moments of silence he added, "And one day I'll have a substantial private income."
She stammered in embarrassment, "That's not very specific."
Trying to mask his pain with a calm exterior, he replied, "The salary will be in the normal range, and the income will be around ten pounds."
Silence reigned. Perhaps she was weighing matters and thinking them over. This was the way a materialist would understand love. He had dreamt of a sweet intoxication but had not achieved anything close to that. It was amazing that in this country where people allowed emotion to guide their politics they approached love with the precision of accountants.
At last the delicate voice replied, "Let's leave aside the private income, for it's not nice to plan your life around the death of loved ones."
"I wanted to let you know that my father is a man of property."
With a burst of energy to make up for the vacillation preceding it, she said, "We need to be realistic."
"I told you I'd find work. And you'll get a job too."
She laughed in an odd way and replied, "Certainly not. I won't work. Unlike the other women students, I haven't enrolled in the University to obtain a government position."
"There's nothing wrong in having a job."
"Naturally. But my father… The fact is that we're all agreed on this. I won't work."
As his emotions cooled down, he became pensive. He commented, "So be it. I'll work."
In a voice that she seemed deliberately to be making more tender than usual she said, "Mr. Ahmad, let's postpone this discussion. Give me time to think it over."
He laughed dispiritedly and responded, "We have looked at the question from every angle. Don't you really need more time to draft your rejection?"
She said bashfully, "I must talk to my father."
"That goes without saying. But it should have been possible for us to reach an understanding first."
"I need some time, even if it's not very long."
"It's June now, and you'll be going off to your summer resort. We won't meet again until next October at school."
She insisted, "I must have time to think about it and to consult my family."
"You just don't want to commit yourself."
Then she suddenly stopped walking and remarked with determined resolve, "Mr. Ahmad, you're trying to force me to speak. I hope you'll take my words the right way. I've thought about marriage frequently, not with regard to you but in general terms. I've concluded and my father agrees with me that my life won't be successful and that I won't be able to maintain my standard of living unless I have no less than fifty pounds a month."
He swallowed this disappointment, which hurt more than he could ever have expected, even allowing for the worst possible outcome. He asked, "Does any working man, I mean one of an age to marry, make a salary that vast?" When she did not respond, he declared, "You want a rich husband!"
"I'm very sorry, but you have forced me to be blunt."
He answered gruffly, "That's better, at any rate."
"Sorry," she murmured.
Although furious, he made a sincere effort to stay within the bounds of polite behavior. Feeling an overwhelming desire to be blunt with her, he asked, "Would you allow me to give you my frank opinion?"
She shot back, "Certainly not! I know many of your ideas. I hope that we can stay friends."
In spite of his anger, he pitied her condition, an inevitable one for a life that had not been transformed by love. A lady who eloped with one of her servants acted naturally but by traditional standards was judged a deviant. In an imperfect society, a healthy man seems sick and the sick one healthy. He was angry, but his unhappiness was greater than his anger. At any rate she would guess what he thought of her, and there was some consolation in that. When she stretched out her hand to take leave of him, his hand took hers and kept hold of it until he had said, "You claimed you didn't enroll in the University to obtain a job. That's a lovely notion in and of itself. But how have you benefited from the University?"
She raised her chin inquisitively. In a slightly sarcastic tone he concluded, "Forgive my foolish behavior. Perhaps the problem is that you haven't fallen in love yet. Goodbye."
He turned on his heels and walked away rapidly.
145
Isma'il Latif said, "Perhaps bringing my wife to Cairo to have the baby was a mistake. The air-raid siren goes off every night. In Tanta we know almost none of the terrors of this war."
Kamal replied, "These are just symbolic raids. If they really wanted to harm us, no force would be able to stop them."