A deep silence fell on the room as if infesting it with an incurable, suffocating disease. Despite his anguish and embarrassment, the young man found solace in this silence, confident that eventually, no matter how long it took, his pain was bound to end. And when it did, he would feel free. He cast a secretive glance at her. What, he wondered, was passing through her mind? Did she still want him? Or did she hate him? Or did she want to avenge herself upon him? What were their mothers speaking about, and how would their long conversation end?
Only I, he thought, and nobody else, can determine my destiny. He heard the voices of the two women approaching. In sudden anxiety, his heart beat fast, accelerating as they returned contentedly to their places. There was a knock on the door. Nefisa entered and Hussein returned to the room; this diversion restored part of his calm. Despite Bahia’s obviously sullen mood, the conversation took the usual course until the visit ended.
SEVENTY-NINE
Hassanein looked anxiously and inquiringly at his mother. She understood that he wanted to know about her conversation with Bahia’s mother. Her glance was cool.
“Bahia’s mother spoke to me,” she said, “about the need for an official declaration of the engagement, and I ultimately approved.”
Frowning angrily, the young man struck the palm of one hand against the other. “Mother, you were too hasty!”
Seeing that his words astonished his mother, he added, “Of course, I don’t blame you. But I’ve broken off the engagement.”
All eyes stared incredulously at him.
“What are you saying?” his mother inquired.
Stressing each word as it came out of his mouth, he answered, “Today, right now, I’ve broken off the engagement. When they left us, Bahia knew that everything between us was over.”
“Brother, what is this you’re saying?” Hussein worriedly exclaimed. “How did it happen?”
“I’m amazed at your words,” his mother said. “I understand nothing. Did any misunderstanding flare up between you and Bahia? When? How?”
Nefisa stopped in the middle of taking off her shoes. “Speak, Hassanein,” she said. “This news is most surprising, to say the least.”
“Yes, and it wasn’t just a short time ago that I decided to break off the engagement,” the young man said grimly. “But I didn’t want to tell anybody about it. Today, alone with her in this room, I found it imperative to tell her. So everything is over now. Please, all of you, don’t ask me about what we said. This concerns nobody but us.”
“This must have been a cruel shock to the poor girl,” Hussein said. “I hope you have good reasons to justify this dreadful decision.”
“What a scandal!” the worried mother declared. “I reached an agreement with the girl’s mother at the very moment you annulled it. What will the woman think of me? Will she suspect that I knew your intentions and that I was deceiving her all along? What did you do, my son? What is the reason for all this? And what’s wrong with the girl?”
Annoyed at the conversation, Nefisa cried sharply, “Let’s hear what the young man concerned has to say.”
“Bahia is a faultless girl,” Hassanein said to his mother. “But I realized quite clearly that she couldn’t be the ideal wife for me.”
“You’ve been engaged for three years,” his mother said. “How can you possibly desert her without good reason?”
Shaking his head, Hussein supported his mother. “That’s right,” he said. “Breaking off an engagement is a dreadful thing. It shouldn’t happen without good reason!”
“What made you think she’s not the ideal wife for you?” Nefisa asked.
“Bahia just isn’t fit to be my wife,” Hassanein said with annoyance. “Sure, I chose her myself. But at that time I didn’t know she wasn’t for me.”
“Bahia is a polite, beautiful girl,” the worried mother replied. “Besides, we can never forget her father’s help to us.”
“Your judgment surprises me,” Hussein said disapprovingly. “What is your idea of a good wife?”
“I want a wife from a higher class, cultured and reasonably wealthy,” Hassanein said after a pause.
“So these are your reasons for breaking your promises?” Hussein inquired in the same tone.
“We’re poor and Bahia is almost as poor as we are,” Hassanein sighed. “If I should die as my father did, before my time, I’m afraid I’d leave my sons, as my father left us, to the same cruel poverty.”
“You’re right,” Nefisa said with enthusiasm.
Hussein was angered by his sister’s enthusiasm. “Have you considered the serious consequences of the step you’re taking?” he demanded.
“I’m extremely sorry about this,” Hassanein replied. “But I don’t approve of wasting my life.”
“All the same, you approve of wasting hers?”
“Her life won’t be wasted. She’s still in the prime of her youth, and she’s got a brilliant future ahead of her.”
“Would you allow me,” Hussein said angrily, “to describe your behavior for what it really is?”
Hassanein looked at him sullenly.
Hussein shook his head, disturbed. “I wonder,” he said, “how you can condemn Hassan’s behavior when there’s no justification for yours?”
The young man turned pale. “No doubt,” he answered sharply, “my behavior is not without its cruelty. But it will all end well for both parties. Anyhow, this is far better than an unsuccessful marriage.”
Hussein turned his face away in desperation.
Striking the palm of one hand against the other, their mother murmured, “What a terrible offense to this most good-hearted family! Oh, God! How can I hide my shame?”
Her words were sincere, but actually she felt a deep inner relief. She was afraid that Hassanein’s precipitous marriage would reduce the family to its former state of worry and insecurity. Wondering about Nefisa’s future, she invariably became fearful and sad. But despite her sense of inner relief, she thought of Farid Effendi’s family with pain and shame.
Unable to conceal her real feelings, Nefisa said, “Don’t worry about Bahia. She’ll soon find a husband.”
“The same generally applies to every girl,” Hussein said. “But it’s no defense for our mistakes.”
“It doesn’t apply to every girl,” Nefisa said, “and the proof is that it doesn’t apply to me, your sister.”
Her irony relieved the pervading tension. Hassanein seized the opportunity to exclaim enthusiastically, “Isn’t it better to choose a special kind of wife, such as Ahmad Bey Yousri’s daughter, for example?”
“God has the power to grant the wishes of His creatures,” Nefisa said gaily. “Who knows? Perhaps one day you’ll be living in a respectable villa and we’ll continue to have your help and kindness.”
Hussein paid no attention to the remarks of his brother and sister. Their mother said, as if to herself, “This evening Farid Effendi will know everything. What will he say about us? I wish I could muster up enough courage to visit them and apologize to them!”
Pondering at length, Hussein murmured calmly but firmly, “I’ve got that kind of courage.”
All were interested.
“Would you really go?” Nefisa asked him. “And what would you say to them?”
“God will inspire me on the spur of the moment with something suitable to say,” the young man answered with a frown. “Oh, God! Surely there’s some impurity in our blood.”
He put on his clothes and left the flat.
EIGHTY
Hussein did not go directly to his destination, but went first to a coffeehouse in Heliopolis, where he sat for an hour thinking the matter over. His thoughts wandered from the memories of the past to the events of the present. For a long time, he probed his mind and heart, then came to a decision. Putting aside all doubts and fears that caused him to waver, he became unusually bold, firm, and decisive, so much so that he marveled at his speed in reaching the decision. Did he arrive at this decision on the spur of the moment or did it result from an accumulation of his own deep sentiments over a period of three years? Somewhat confused, he reviewed all the various perspectives. Now, nothing could deter him from his determined course. He rose and left his place with mixed feelings, vacillating from an expansive kind of pleasure to a gripping worry to a bountiful spirit of adventure. Proceeding to the alley, he easily reached it by the evening. Now, as he approached their old house, he realized how difficult and embarrassing his mission was. Yet he advanced with steady steps and an unflinching determination. With a beating heart, he knocked on the door. The astonished glance of the servant who opened it for him irritated him. She showed him to the sitting room. Farid Effendi entered, his body sagging, his face sad for the first time, his eyes burning with anger. No sooner did the host finish with the customary complimentary salutations on receiving a guest than he exclaimed in a paroxysm of passion, “Our lifelong friendship, our lifelong neighborliness, and our lifelong companionship! In one moment you’ve torn all these to shreds!”