He suddenly let out a low laugh as he went on, 'I believe that you're sensible and know that there isn't really any treasure, underneath the temples or on top of them!'
Then he put his finger to his lips as though to swear me to secrecy, and I smiled at him as I brought the sketchbook close to his face and asked, 'And so?'
The shouts of the agwad continued and some had leapt up as though they too were about to come down to us. At this point, I was taken aback to see Sheikh Yahya's face turn dark, and in a strong, loud voice out of keeping with his age and the emaciation of his body he shouted and roared at them at great length in an angry tone, turning only his head in their direction. Some of them continued their shouting and muttering but they sat down again in their places.
The sheikh took hold of the sketchbook that I held out to him, holding it with difficulty as he screwed up his eyes. Then he told me in bewilderment, 'I can read Arabic but I don't know the language of the pharaohs.'
Realizing that he could make nothing of it, I said, 'This isn't the language of the pharaohs, it's the language of the Ancient Greeks.'
The man's bewilderment increased and he looked into my face and said, 'There's no one in our town who knows the languages of the ancients. Wait and maybe some foreigners from your country will come.'
Then he thrust the sketchbook into my hands and said, laughing again and pointing to his glasses, 'As for me, I can barely see you now, and you expect me to distinguish between different scripts that I don't know?'
All the same, I said again, with an irritation I did not intend, 'But perhaps you could help me with something. All I want to know is whether there are carvings of characters like these in the Great Temple or elsewhere. I have been to the temple at Aghurmi, but I wasn't able to wander around or see anything. The houses have closed off the remains.'
Sheikh Yahya said slowly, in a different tone of voice, 'Then leave them closed off! I said that you were sensible, and a sensible person doesn't enter a house whose door is closed to him.'
He stood there looking straight into my eyes and I understood that he was giving me a warning, so I asked him, 'What, then, is to be done?'
'There are antiquities far from houses and there are carvings and writing everywhere in the open, and there are villages in the oasis other than Shali and Aghurmi and many temples. Look among those if you wish.'
'Have I finished searching here that I should try somewhere else? Have I started even?'
'Listen. I do not understand what it is you are looking for. However, if I were in your place, I'd think twice, after the stone that fell…'
Then he stopped for a moment before saying quietly to himself, 'No one but me will understand that you are not looking for the treasure and for gold. They see the falling of the stone as a punishment and a warning from the owner of the treasure, who has cast a spell to keep people away from it until the appointed time for it to be uncovered has come.'
I didn't understand everything he said, so I asked him, 'But you don't believe these myths yourself?'
Suddenly he grew angry again and said, pointing to the agwad, who still kept up their clamour, 'What does it matter what I believe or don't believe? What matters is what they believe. They aren't evil. On the contrary, they have good hearts, but they're afraid.' Then his face darkened further and he said, 'All people have good hearts, but they're stupid! You too, why can't you understand after everything I've told you? Goodbye! Watch out for yourself and watch out for your husband.'
He turned to go back, supporting himself on his stick and repeating in agitation, 'Goodbye!'
I almost smiled, even though he'd been rude to me. Like Sheikh Sabir before him, he'd urged me to go away, but I really believed that he wanted to help me, and that he was sending me a message.
* * *
On my way home, it occurred to me that the old man might be right to warn me. Indeed, why shouldn't I abandon everything? I could think of my whole affair with the desert, Alexander and this oasis as an adventure that failed but whose failure wouldn't be the end of the world. It wouldn't be my first failure and I've always been able to start anew, whatever happened to me. They hate me roaming among the temples and complain that I want to rob them, and my insistence on searching may increase the dangers to Mahmoud.
I've heard from him that he has enough problems with them these days. From the time he started collecting the taxes, or trying to collect them, there have been daily quarrels with one or other of the families. He told me he'd charged Sabir with collecting the various shares but they were refusing to pay, and Mahmoud has been obliged to go himself or send police troops, though it's made no difference. He says that what he's collected so far is very little and that the whole oasis is on the verge of exploding again. Would it not then be better if I were to pull back and behave inconspicuously until this crisis is over? In that case, though, what would be the point of my staying here? The best thing now might be for us to leave together. Mahmoud, though, will never consent to abandoning his duty and fleeing, for to do so would be to expose himself to disgrace, and perhaps to prison. What to do?
I reached the house and sat on the front steps. The sun today is bearable and I started watching children who were playing in the open space, stealing timid glances at me and ready to run away if I approached. I long ago gave up showing friendliness and smiling at them or trying to talk to them. There's no point. An ingrate oasis. Didn't Mahmoud expose himself to danger to save one of their children? They ought to be showing him gratitude instead of subjecting him to all these tribulations. What's more, everything that is happening now is corrupting our relationship.
He's gone back to drinking heavily since the accident at the temple, and I can't bear him when he's drunk. I can put up with him up to two glasses. That's tolerable. But I avoid him when intoxication takes over. The fact is, we've taken to avoiding one another, and we sleep in the bed like strangers most of the time. I no longer mind very much. On the contrary, it's a relief for me, especially after the night he tried to make love to me when he was drunk and failed. He became livid with fury. He kept on trying, in indignation and anger. He was muttering and cursing himself and kept getting out of bed to storm around and bang his head on the wall. Then he'd come staggering back and throw himself on top of me and try again and become even more furious. It was the first time he'd failed since I'd known him and I tried, despite my disgust with both him and myself, to offer him comfort: maybe it had been one glass too many; maybe he was more exhausted than usual. It was no good. He kept on trying till fatigue demolished us both and horrible memories of Michael returned to me.
What happened during the following days revolted me even more. The moment he came home at the end of the morning on the following day, and before having lunch, he dragged me to the bed and succeeded. Then he tried again that evening, and succeeded, and was more than usually violent, even though he knows that I hate violence. It was as though he were taking revenge on himself and on me. He went on like that for days and nights on end.
Perhaps he believed that our passion and true harmony continued as before and that my protests were a kind of coquetry or play. No, we aren't as we were. And he's like me. I felt that there wasn't an ounce of true desire or passionate enjoyment in what he did. All he wanted was to reassure himself as to his virility, and when he was so reassured, he started avoiding me again, and I was overcome by relief. In my heart, I thanked him.
It had never before occurred to me for an instant that I would be happy to see him distance himself from me, but that is what the oasis has done to us.