Such a girl is apt to infuse delightful hopes even in dead souls. Perhaps this is due to the force of habit. Yes. The force of habit, which has rendered supperless nights quite a familiar thing to us. What right do I have to think of love under the present circumstances of our life! “Thank you. There is enough sugar in the tea!” I did well when I thanked her! My disposition dislikes cowardice and hesitation. Thus I can seize upon the opportunities of love in the midst of the desolation of poverty. If poverty were a man, I would kill him. But poverty is a woman. It kills us all and we do not resent it. Does my father suffer for our condition? What shape does he assume now? Alas! My father! True, life is a big lie. But she came in person, carrying the sugar bowl. In fact, she came especially for me. I wish I were the Charlemagne of my age. If one day I returned to Nasr Allah in the full majesty of knighthood, she would unconditionally surrender to me. He recovered from his reverie only when he heard Hussein speaking.
“Come. It is your turn.”
Ah yes. The English language. He took his brother’s place. He gave a lesson replete with kindness and affection for the boy in whose veins ran the same blood as that of his sister…the blood which he detected in the delicate back of her knee. At last he finished. But he was so absorbed that he was unaware of the passage of time. Then the two young men left the flat and climbed down the dark stairs. He was no longer able to contain his feeling.
“Her appearance today was a wonderful surprise,” he said.
Hussein spoke in a suspiciously critical tone. “Take care. Don’t be insolent. This is a respectable house.”
“What did I do to deserve that reproof?”
“Do not do anything you would not dare to do if Farid Effendi was with us.”
So delighted was Hassanein that he said as if to himself, “She came in person! Oh God! How nice she is!”
“She did nothing wrong by coming.”
“Do you think that her father asked her to bring the sugar bowl?”
“How could I possibly know?” Hussein answered, sounding bored.
“Did she come of her own accord?”
“What difference does it make?”
“If she came of her own accord, did her father know about it?”
There was no answer from his brother, who nevertheless paid close attention to his words.
“Did she come surreptitiously?” Hassanein persisted.
“Surreptitiously?!”
Hassanein pressed his brother’s arm. “Do they not say in proverbs, ‘Between lovers there is discreet communion’?” he said as they reached the last stair.
SEVENTEEN
“Now I have come by myself, and Hussein will come after me, so that our time will not be wasted unnecessarily.”
“That is better,” Salem answered politely.
Each took his place. Before starting the lesson, Hassanein suggested, “It will be better if we close the balcony window and open the door.”
Salem rose and carried out the wish of his teacher, who noted that the silent hall was completely dark. But he did not lose hope. There was still time for tea and sugar. In his desire to be good to his teacher, Salem confided his thoughts to him. “Father and Mother,” he said, “have gone out to visit my grandmother.”
Hassanein’s heart shook violently. He gave the boy a long look. “When did they go out?” he asked.
“In the afternoon.”
Anxiously, he sought to learn whether the girl had gone with them. “How could you stay alone in the house?”
“My sister Bahia is staying with me,” the boy replied.
This answer gave Hassanein relief, delight, and hope. Thoughts came to his mind: Tea and sugar, especially sugar. Not sugar, but the sugar bowl. I shall find out today whether she deliberately appeared that other time. He asked the boy to read, and the lesson was in progress. He listened to his pupil for a few minutes, but then his thoughts again rambled off. Should I ask for tea? That would be too forward. But if they are late in bringing the tea, I must ask for it. I am too agitated. She and I are alone in the flat. Neither Salem’s presence nor that of the servant will make any difference. She and I are alone. Let me enjoy being alone with her for a while, in my imagination. If life were as lusciously simple as it used to be in early times, I would take her in my arms and ask her with no hesitation to uncover her legs. What stops me from doing so? It is the folly of the world, which killed my father and caused the sufferings we have been undergoing. He became aware of Salem only when the boy asked him the meaning of a word. He explained it to him and ordered him to proceed with his reading. Before the youngster’s voice faded away, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned his eyes in the direction of the open door. He saw the tea tray before he could distinguish who was carrying it. His eyes fell on her arms holding the tray. His heart beat violently and he rose like a man obsessed. While he was moving toward the door, he heard her soft voice, speaking almost in a whisper: “Salem.”
Hassanein appeared before her, his eyes ravaging her.
“Thanks a lot,” he whispered.
Her almost pale complexion flushed. Perhaps she did not expect to see him. She lowered her eyes in confusion. Hassanein stretched his hands to take the tray from her. In so doing, his right hand clutched the fingers of her left hand. At once, something akin to an electric current flowed through his hand, arm, body, and soul. His daring had no limit. He pressed her fingers in a manner that could not be mistaken. Resentfully she withdrew her hand, and a frown darkened her face. Very angrily, she walked away from the door. He was extremely perturbed when he returned to the table carrying the tray. Confused, he addressed the boy. “Continue,” he said.
His thoughts rambled: Was I too hasty, not waiting for things to develop naturally? How impatient I am! I am always like that. What a frown came upon her face! She frowned and went away. If shyness is the reason, nothing will be dearer to my heart. But if its indignation, then it is the end of everything. Never shall I retreat. Never shall I know hesitation. Why did she come in person? Why didn’t she ask the servant to carry the tray? She came particularly for me. This is obvious. There is nothing to fear.
He was intermittently aware of Salem, asked him some questions, then fell into worry and distraction, wavering between apprehension and pleasure. When the lesson was over, an idea occurred to him. He rose up, determined and unflinching, to put it into effect. Salem left the room to make way for his teacher. In this interval he took a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat, dropped it on the seat, and left the flat. But he did not budge after the door had been closed. Before knocking at the door, he listened attentively until the boy’s footsteps died away. His heart was pounding with extreme agitation. If the servant opens the door for me, my plan will be foiled. But probably she will come. I have to be resigned to whatever happens. The light in the hall was turned on, approaching footsteps were heard, and the door was opened. It was she. He did not like the astonishment that appeared on her face. But he wasted no time.
“I am afraid I have angered you,” he said tenderly and sympathetically. She withdrew a step without uttering a word, and he said hurriedly, “I can never bear to see you angry.”