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As his thoughts suddenly flashed back to his mother, the image blanked out his view of the corpse. He shook his head, determined to banish the picture of his mother from his mind. His feverish attention returned to the corpse. In spite of himself, he remembered the girl’s kindness to him, how she loved him, how generously she treated him. She would never have imagined losing her life at his hands. Desperately tired, he wondered again, fearfully: Why did all this happen? Unable to bear the sight of the corpse any longer, he closed his eyes. His head was feverish. Sorrow crushed his interest in life. The world seemed as void as her blue face. God, I’m finished! he thought with a deep sigh.

He heard the officer instructing the witnesses to accompany him to the police station, as the corpse was carried to the other side of the street. His eyes followed the group until they disappeared in the darkness. Less than two minutes later, he found himself alone, amid the rustling trees whose twisted, coarse branches almost covered the whole area. His limbs hanging loose, he staggered backward. Leaning against a tree trunk, he fell into a kind of somnolence, as if he were falling into a dim, hopeless abyss. I’m finished, he thought. Since misery plagues us all, none of us has the right to make his brother miserable. What have I done? In despair, I did what I did, imposed my stern punishment upon her. What right did I have to do it? Was I really avenging the honor of our family? But I’m the worst of them all, as everybody knows. And if this world is ugly, I’m the ugliest part of it. I’ve always wished to destroy those around me. How then, as the worst of the culprits, could I appoint myself a judge to pass verdicts on others? I’m finished!

He looked around in fear and perplexity. Where can I go? Can I survive this ordeal as I’ve survived so many others? Hopes and delusions be damned! What do I care! Well, how can I help it? Rather, being what I am, I should go away, seek happiness in oblivion. He laughed bitterly. How mercilessly I torture myself. But the dreadful past has devoured the present, and the past was nothing but myself Burdened as I am, can I carry on with life? I can’t. I could have loved life until the very end, regardless of the circumstances. But I don’t understand what it is that is so essentially wrong with our nature. I’m done for.

He stood erect, tired of leaning against the trunk, perhaps impelled by a fresh motive. Sick at heart and wanting only to escape, he walked off with a farewell glance at the spot where she had drowned herself. He remembered their words: “I don’t want any harm to come to you because of me.” “This is God’s will.” “The decree of Satan.” “The Nile.” “All right.” “And if you get scared—” “No, life to me is more dreadful than death.” “Are you ready?”

What was the officer thinking about him now? Where was Lieutenant Hassanein when it happened? Did he send an apology, make any excuses? I saw his face immediately after we took the corpse out of the water. I asked him if he saw the accident, but he was too astounded to reply.

Hassanein reached the same place on the bridge. He climbed the rail, looking down into the turbulent waters. Driving all other thoughts from his mind, he made his decision.

If this is what you want, so be it! I won’t scream. For once, let me be courageous. May God have mercy upon us.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Naguib Mahfouz

The Beginning & The End

Naguib Mahfouz was one of the most prominent writers of Arabic fiction in the twentieth century. Born in Cairo in 1911, he began writing when he was seventeen. Over his long career, he wrote nearly forty novel-length works and hundreds of short stories, ranging from re-imaginings of ancient myths to subtle commentaries on contemporary Egyptian politics and culture. His most famous work is The Cairo Trilogy (consisting of Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, and Sugar Street), which focuses on a Cairo family through three generations, from 1917 until 1952. In 1988, Mahfouz became the first writer in Arabic to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. He died in August 2006.