The Beginning and the End (29 page)

He had no appointment with his classmates as he had pretended. He entered the cinema alone a few minutes after the beginning of the show. He was shown to his seat in the darkness. Half attentive, half reminiscing about Bahia and his fraudulent departure, he watched the newsreel. He remembered how Bahia tenderly pressed his hand as she bade him farewell. It was a pleasurable pressure which caused a quiver in his heart and made him forget whatever offenses she might have committed!
Now,
he thought,
my dream can come true. I'd have realized my cherished desire a long time ago if, instead of humble entreaties, I'd shown some self-restraint. She wouldn't have refused if I'd repeatedly frowned upon her. How foolish of me! Then I'll not be content with just a kiss. I'll crush her to my breast until her bones snap under my arms, but far from the critical eyes of those who admire a girl for her good looks, elegance, and fashion. But even after marrying her, should I hide her away from the public view? Why pay attention to other people and their critical remarks? No. This is an evil thing which I can't possibly put aside. It's my nature.
He found relief from his thoughts as he focused his attention on the screen to watch Hitler receiving the ambassadors on his birthday. A cartoon followed, then an intermission, and the lights went on. Turning his head, he examined the faces around him. His eyes were arrested by a colossal, disgustingly obese woman conversing with her husband beside her. He could not help admiring this man's courage and complete indifference to society in escorting such a woman.

A glimpse to his left revealed a charming girl in a gray jacket and skirt occupying the next seat. It occurred to him that he had seen this face before. He searched deep in the recesses of his memory to identify her. Meanwhile, his eyes fell on a woman
next to her, then on a man at the sight of whom his heart beat violently. Springing to his feet, Hassanein courteously extended his hand in greeting. “Good evening, Your Excellency.”

The man, no less than Ahmad Bey Yousri himself, looked at him and greeted him with a smile. He introduced the young man to his wife and daughter as “the son of the late Kamel Effendi Ali.” Having saluted them most politely, Hassanein withdrew to his seat, still feeling the touch of the girl's hand. The Bey asked him about his progress at the College and he offered his thanks as he answered. Then silence fell between the two men, each keeping to himself. Staring straight ahead, Hassanein was relieved to have been able to maintain his composure when he was introduced for the first time in his life to two distinguished ladies of the upper classes. A waiter passed by carrying a variety of chocolates and refreshments. He wished he had enough money to order some of these for the Bey's family. But with only a few piasters in his pocket, he became indignant at missing such an opportunity, detesting his poverty more than ever before. The lights went down and the cinema screen came back to life. Absorbed in his thoughts and giving rein to his heated imagination, Hassanein was unable to concentrate on the film. Now he was convinced it was not the first time he had seen this charming face. He remembered the naked leg revealed by the pedaling of a bicycle in the garden of the Bey's villa. He wondered what impression he had left upon her, what impression, too, had been made by Ahmad Bey's words of introduction, “the son of the late Kamel Effendi Ali.”

Obviously, his father had been a minor employee. Moreover, the two women undoubtedly knew of the Bey's efforts to help his family, first by interceding to find a job for Hussein, later by assisting Hassanein to enroll in the War College. Again, it was impossible that they were unaware of his true social status. Perhaps the girl considered his career the result of her father's benefaction. Perhaps she thought that without her father he would not be wearing this red-striped uniform. All this was
quite possible, even certain. Hassanein's forehead was hot with shame and discontent.

I've seen your leg on the bicycle,
he thought,
lovely and ivory-colored, but not miraculous. There are no miracles in this world. Don't you go to bed the same way any other girl does? Don't you fly into raptures in sexual intercourse like any other woman? And become pregnant like the servant we dismissed because of our poverty, and, like a bitch, groan when overcome by the pangs of childbirth?
Suddenly he rubbed his nose with his forefinger, which still bore traces of the lovely perfume on her hand. It had an exciting, almost magical effect on him and penetrated his heart. Quieting, contenting, and intoxicating, its fragrance purged his breast of the impurities of anger and pain. Observing her lovely, fairylike figure, he guessed that her arms were folded on her breast. He wished that, placing her hand on the arm of the seat, she would casually touch his. He formed a mental image of her face, the face of which he had had a glimpse when he had shaken hands with her: long and full, with two black eyes expressing vitality and vivacity, a circle of deep black hair and a mole on her left cheek which added beauty to her white complexion. Conjuring up Bahia's image and comparing the two, he became convinced that this girl was no more beautiful than his girl. But at the same time he found Bahia's beauty cold, like a statue's, while that of the other girl was full of blood, inflaming the imagination and infusing warmth into the soul. Furthermore, to his ambitious spirit she appeared as a living symbol of the socially privileged, to which he desperately looked forward to joining. He regarded her not so much as a girl as a representative of a certain class and a certain mode of life. But his momentary ecstasy did not blind him to his true feelings, and he did not delude himself that she penetrated his heart as Bahia did. Totally passive though she was, Bahia was in possession of the very roots of his instincts and nerves, while the other appealed to his unlimited ambition. Perhaps this other girl enabled him to discover an enigmatic part of himself, his heart's basic preference for ambition
over happiness and security. Suddenly his passions cooled down.

I'm swept away by foolish dreams,
he thought.
But don't I have the right to resort to dreams for relief? Don't we all dream what we dream? Yes, but our dreams are disturbed only by the illusion that they are real.
Some time passed before he could concentrate his attention again on the cinema screen. But, his energy exhausted by thought, the scenes of the film bored and tired him, and he sat through them by an effort of will until the lights were turned on. As his eyes met those of Ahmad Bey's family, he greeted them with a nod before he dissolved into the crowd streaming out of the cinema. At last, separating himself from the crowd, he wandered for an hour in the streets before he took the tram for Shubra.

As he approached the quarter where he lived, Nasr Allah alley appeared to him more sordid than ever. As he crossed it, grudgingly and with downcast eyes, his nostrils were filled with the smell of dust mingled with smoke and grease.

The days passed and the scholastic year came almost to an end. During the third quarter of the year, Hassanein learned that, so as to increase the size of the Egyptian army after the ratification of the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty, the Minister of War had decided to graduate a group of officers after only one year, and that these new graduates would complete their training after joining their regiments. The students received double work assignments, but they welcomed this additional work with enthusiasm. In fact, the whole business appeared so incredible that it seemed stranger than fiction. None of the students, least of all Hassanein himself, would have imagined that he would become an officer after only one scholastic year, but when the year came to an end, Hassanein graduated.

His mother's heart filled with delight and she felt secure, like a lost sailor, his food run out and sails torn, finally emerging from an engulfing mist into a safe, clear harbor. She thought:
Oh, God! You alone have helped me out of my troubles. Who could compare our situation yesterday, when we were groping in the dark, with our promising, hopeful situation today, without recognizing Your justice and mercy!
For the first time in her life she felt contented and happy. To her fading eyes, the long-drawn-out dilemma of her life now appeared in a halo of pleasurable pride as though it had been no more than a casual, forced frown on the forehead of Merciful Fate.

Thus she gave thanks to God and shed tears of joy. She had saved enough from Hussein's and Nefisa's money to pay the college fees of the next year. With these savings, Hassanein had an officer's uniform tailored, which kept him busy until the
graduates were assigned to the various regiments. High on the list of successful cadets, he was appointed to the cavalry in Cairo, a piece of good fortune the family would never have dreamt of. Hassanein's uniform symbolized the fulfillment of his old dreams. As she looked at him with amazement and happiness in her eyes, Samira abandoned her usual taciturnity and solemnity. This was her beloved son, the blossom and cherished dream of her life.

“During the
Mahmal
ceremony,” he had once said to her, “you and Nefisa will have an excellent opportunity to see me on horseback at the head of the cavalry band!”

“I'll be there,” she could not help answering, “only if you buy me a decent overcoat to wear before the multitudes crowding the street!”

“Have patience until I receive my salary!” the young man said with a laugh.

These were days of unadulterated happiness and pleasure, although Hassanein had many things to be concerned about. Hoping to establish his happiness on solid, unshakable foundations, when he was alone with his mother in the house he said to her with unusual gravity, “Mother, Nefisa must stop her shameful work at once. It doesn't become an officer's sister to work as a dressmaker.”

His mother smiled. “My son, she'd welcome this from the bottom of her heart,” she said simply.

Although he had anticipated these words, they failed to wipe out the thoughts which preoccupied him. “I wish we could erase the past out of existence,” he continued with a melancholy sigh. “I'm afraid some people might bring it up to hurt us. You know how people are! If my colleagues ever heard of it, my prestige would suffer.”

His concern partly infecting her, she smiled and patted his shoulder to banish his worries. “We were poor, and most people are poor,” she said. “There's nothing in that to be ashamed of.”

He shook his head in protest. He said with sorrow, “This is more idle talk. You know people better than I do.”

“My son, I don't want you to poison your peace of mind with such thoughts!”

As if deaf to her words, he added, “This alley knows the humble circumstances of our life. So I can't bear to stay in it.”

Fearing that her happiness might be totally destroyed, she begged him. “Don't you worry. Time will straighten out these matters.”

Staring curiously at his mother, he envied her self-control. But soon he became angry at her indifference to the dangers, which were exaggerated in his imagination. “True,” he said sharply, “time will straighten matters out, but only after destroying me.”

A look of terror appeared in the woman's eyes. Gently reproachful, she replied, “I see you're impatient and anticipating trouble as usual. My advice to you is not to get your actual happiness mixed up with insignificant sorrows, which are only imaginary.”

“Insignificant!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, insignificant.”

“You consider insignificant Nefisa's past and the things the inhabitants of this quarter know about us?”

“Unless you have faith in God, you'll never know real happiness.”

“I wish I could drop a heavy curtain on our past,” Hassanein sighed.

“Have patience and it will happen.”

Inflamed with anger, the young man grew impatient. “I fear nothing,” he said, “more than this patience you're asking me to have. Look at this mean alley and this house, which is bare of furniture. Do you think I can hide them forever from my colleagues?”

Feeling miserable, the woman realized that her life was
doomed to anguish. “Do things gradually!” she said bitterly. “We had no food to eat, but look where we are now!”

Shaking his head with sorrow, he said, “Mother, I didn't mean to make you angry. But these days I think very much of the troubles that threaten us. I've only mentioned some of them, and perhaps those I've not mentioned are much graver. Look, for example, at my brother Hassan and his way of life. Surrounded by these troubles, how can we possibly lead a quiet life?!”

She studied his face, astonished by his ability to fish for worries. Desperately, she murmured, “Leave God's creatures to their Creator. We have always been so. Yet we neither perished nor were we destroyed.”

“I wasn't an officer then,” Hassanein protested. “But now that I've become one, my reputation is in jeopardy.”

Frowning, the mother took refuge in anguished silence.

“Everything must change,” Hassanein sighed. “Even my father's grave, out in the open amidst charity burial places, must change. Imagine what my colleagues would think of me if they knew where he is buried!”

She concealed her feelings beneath a smile. “I hope for these things as much as you do. But I advise you to be patient and I warn you against the sad consequences of your futile revolt. You desire to wipe out the past, change the house, build a tomb, and reform your brother. Yet it's impossible for you to achieve these things for a long time to come. What will you do then? It was the hope of my life that you be happy with us as well as make us happy. But if you don't acquire patience and resign yourself to reality, you'll be miserable and will make us miserable, too.”

He fell silent, fed up with the conversation and his own troubles. His rebellious nature refused to be persuaded by her arguments; to him, she seemed unsympathetic to his hopes and feelings and he felt alone in the battle of life and death. He
yearned for a cleaner, more decent life, and he would never deviate from this goal. Let him then defend his hopes and happiness with whatever power and enthusiasm he could muster.

He heard a knock on the door. Evening was spreading its wings. Surmising that it was Nefisa returning from her work, he hurried with fresh determination to open the door.