Cairo Modern

34

The next morning he awoke late and rose with a headache, feeling tired. He had slept on the chaise longue. He looked at the bed with fearful eyes but found it empty. He remembered the previous night, and the memory horrified him. Then he shrugged his shoulders dismissively and left the room. He found her in the sitting room. She looked at him with a frowning face and he felt uneasy for a time. With eyes downcast he smiled and asked her in a gentle voice, “Not still angry?”

She replied sharply, “When you’re drunk you turn into a crazy beast. Don’t ever get drunk again. Drink a glass or two the way we do: that’s okay. But for you to return after midnight staggering drunk and acting in this disgraceful way: that’s not acceptable.”

They moved to the dining room, where they ate breakfast, silently at first. Then they exchanged a few words, and left the room on good terms. He went to the ministry shortly before noon to find that the bey had journeyed to Alexandria to spend a few days in Bulkeley. He sat in his office glancing at the newspapers. A short time later he received an unexpected visitor. The door opened and he looked up from the paper to see Ma’mun Radwan heading toward him. A look of astonishment appeared on his face and then he rose gaily. The two friends shook hands warmly. Ma’mun took a seat and said, “Congratulations. Congratulations.”

Mahgub realized that he was congratulating him on the position. That delighted him immensely and he replied, “Thank you. I thought you were in Tanta.”

“I returned two days ago for personal reasons, and the night I got back I ran into Mr. Ahmad Badir at the university club. He told me about your appointment, and I was tremendously delighted by that.”

Ahmad Badir — he felt rattled by the mention of that significant name. He wondered what this journalist, who knew all of society’s scandals, might have learned. What had he told Ma’mun Radwan? He looked carefully at his friend but found his expression as calm and pure as ever. His appearance suggested a clear conscience untroubled by bad news. Pretending to smile, Mahgub asked, “How is he? I haven’t seen him for quite some time. He hasn’t come to congratulate me.”

Ma’mun smiled and replied, “Some things have escaped your notice. News of your appointment was published in his newspaper. As he explains, he thinks you ought to thank him.”

They discussed Ma’mun’s overseas study, administrative and technical positions in the government, and the career of teaching at the university and in the secondary schools. Ma’mun criticized the prevailing system that did not allow specialists to hold posts in their field, and Mahgub was uncomfortable about a lack of respect for administrative positions. He told his friend that these had a special glory that teaching positions could never claim. Ma’mun understood glory in quite a different way. All the same, they presented their views in a comfortable, tolerant fashion. Their conversation raised some personal concerns, and Ma’mun confessed he had come to Cairo for reasons related to his marriage. Then Mahgub informed him that he had married. The young man congratulated him once more and prayed for his success. Then he said, “I met our friend Ali Taha yesterday and spent a long time with him.”

Mahgub’s heart pounded at this sudden change of topic and he felt anxious. Had Ali Taha’s name come up by chance or did Ali know about his marriage and tell Ma’mun? It was not possible for his marriage to remain secret, and Ali Taha would definitely learn about it some day. But how had the news gotten to him? How did he understand it? He looked at Ma’mun, and their eyes met. He detected discomfort and suspicion in those pure black eyes. So he felt no more doubt. Ma’mun’s eyes were a clear mirror, innocent of any cunning or deceit. They were obviously asking him, “Is it really true what he said? Have you really betrayed your friend?”

Finding it pointless to force his friend to ask first, he said, “How is he?”

Ma’mun replied gravely, “Fine.”

They were silent for a moment. Mahgub bowed his head. His conjecture had definitely been confirmed, but how much of the truth was known? Those who knew the whole truth — Ihasan’s family, the bey, and al-Ikhshidi — would not be able to disclose it to anyone, because that disclosure would harm them. If Ma’mun knew the truth he would never have visited him. It was not like him to pretend to show respect for someone he thought deserved his contempt. He had merely come to hear Mahgub’s defense against their friend’s accusation, which was quite simply a charge of betrayal, not an accusation of marrying a certain kind of girl because he wanted a job. This was plainly the truth of the matter. Feeling satisfied with his reasoning, since he wasn’t concerned about Ali’s grief or about what Ma’mun thought of him, he looked at his visitor with his customary audacity and asked, “What’s troubling him?”

Ma’mun did not know what to say. Feeling uneasy, he bit his lip and remained silent. Mahgub laughed listlessly, and then said as if answering himself, “My marriage.”

Ma’mun asked eagerly, “Really?”

Mahgub responded tersely, “Actually, I married our former neighbor Ihsan Shihata Turki.”

The other man’s face revealed his astonishment and discomfort. Smiling, Mahgub said, “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He explained how the relationship between Ali and Ihsan had faltered and finally been terminated. He confirmed that he had not stepped forward to request her hand until afterward.

With the candor for which he was known, Ma’mun asked, “Aren’t you responsible for the relationship’s problems and termination?”

Mahgub said with great certainty, “Absolutely not.”

The visit concluded after that. As he shook hands with Ma’mun, Mahgub felt that the young man was saying a last farewell to him. When he heard the door slam shut, he spat contemptuously and angrily and muttered with intense resentment, “Tuzz!”