NINETY-TWO
He leapt to the sloping bank, his eyes staring at the spot under the bridge where her body had disappeared. Uncertain what to do, or what he wanted, he remained transfixed, staring. In a few moments, he thought that perhaps her body would float up to the surface of the water, but then he realized that the rushing current under the bridge must have carried her away. Perhaps her body was being tossed under the bridge; perhaps it was sinking in the river beyond the bridge. Although the thought occurred to him to take off his clothes and jump into the water in an attempt to save her life, he remained motionless. More immobile than before, he thought how bitterly ironic it was. Had his reason ceased to control his mind? He was taken aback by a voice behind him.
“Did you hear a scream?” someone shouted wildly.
Turning around, he saw a policeman, obviously concerned.
“Yes,” he answered in surprise. “Perhaps someone is drowning.”
In the darkness, the policeman gazed at the surface of the river, then walked quickly toward the bridge. His presence brought Hassanein back to an awareness of where he was, and he withdrew to his place behind the tree. But he was unable for long to control himself, and rushed toward the bridge, crossed it, and reached the rail overlooking the other side of the river. He glanced down at the swift current. Others were aware of the accident. A swift boat was moving from the left bank to the middle of the river. He heard screams and cries for help from the farther bank. Beyond the bridge the surface of the river was illuminated by the reflected images of the lamps. His eyes searching the surface, he failed to see anything.
Carried by the current, the boat left the illuminated area, headed into the darkness. Could the boat win this race against death? he wondered. Either he couldn’t recognize his true feelings or perhaps his concentration on the boat was an attempt to escape from his thoughts. The boat stopped, and amid the noisy voices of the occupants, someone jumped into the water. This was the decisive moment. His heart quaked and his mouth was dry. In the darkness that enveloped the boat, he tried in vain to distinguish any object or make out a word in the tumult of different voices. His eyes were as tired as a blind man’s; he could no longer see anything. He became aware that a crowd of people had gathered around him.
“The boat is returning,” he heard one of them say. “Maybe they’ve rescued whoever it was.
A shudder passed down his spine. Did she survive or perish? Should I stay or get out of here? The desire to torture himself to the utmost proved irresistible; he walked toward the bank which the boat was heading for. Then, too frightened to trust to walking, he began to run as fast as he could to the place on the bank where a crowd gathered. He reached it just as the boat landed, and with shaking legs approached the crowd. His limbs trembling in spite of himself, he joined it stealthily, casting dazed glances at the boat in its thin veil of darkness. Not far away, the officer of the police station, together with some policemen, stood facing the bank. Now the shapes of men appeared carrying the drowned body, as they moved from the boat to the bank.
“Did they save him from drowning?” a bystander exclaimed.
Hassanein pricked up his ears for the answer, but none of the men uttered a single word. With an effort, they climbed the sloping bank, all eyes centered upon them.
“Oh, dear!” someone cried in horror. “It’s a woman!”
“How’d she drown?” another inquired.
“She jumped from the bridge,” a boy exclaimed. “The boatman’s wife saw it and urged her husband to save her.”
Hassanein’s dazed, uncertain eyes followed them. He found it difficult to persuade himself that this was actually his sister; since no one else knew about it, he merely stood in the crowd like any curious stranger. When they reached the pavement, the men immediately attempted to revive her and emptied the water from her lungs. The officer ordered the policemen to disperse the crowd. But since none of them attempted to dismiss him, Hassanein remained standing in his place, staring fixedly at the hunchbacked body handled indelicately by these coarse men. Aware of his presence, the officer approached and greeted him with a nod.
“Did you witness the accident?”
Deeply disturbed, the young man came to his senses. “No,” he hurriedly answered.
The men laid the girl’s body on the ground. Kneeling down by her side, one of them felt for her pulse. He put his ear to her chest, listened for a heartbeat, then raised his head.
“The divine secret,” he said, “has risen to its Creator. It’s the will of God.”
An overpowering feeling of alienation, neither sadness nor relief, returned to Hassanein. His mind became stagnant, his dreadful feeling of emptiness intolerable. He stared again at the girl’s prostrate corpse not far from his feet, her hair scattered, a few plaits sticking to her cheek and forehead, her face mute and terrifyingly blue with no signs of recovering consciousness. Deep furrows around her gaping mouth and eyes suggested her last tortured convulsions in this world. Soaking wet, her dress clung to her body, the hem muddy and soiled with the dust from the ground. Her shoes had disappeared; one foot still retained a stocking. As he continued to look at her face, his chest, turbulent with agitation, swelled with emotion.
Why am I so agitated? he thought. Wasn’t I really convinced this was the best end? Didn’t I drive her to kill herself? My soul must find rest. What were her thoughts when she fell into the water? What shock to her emaciated body? What went through her mind while she was tossed by the waves? What a struggle when the mud choked off her breathing! What terrible torture when, fighting her instinctive desire for survival, the river dragged her floating body down into the depths! The desperate attempts of a drowning woman to rescue herself are as futile as a poor man’s dream of happiness. Can she see me now from the other world? Is she content, angry, or sardonic? What does she think of my situation now? Why did all this happen?