The Beginning and the End

FIFTY-SIX

Two weeks later he received a letter from Hassanein telling him that he had paid the examination fees and was constantly studying, determined to succeed. Confident of his brother’s intelligence and ability, Hussein had no doubt he would pass. Though it was not in his nature to yield to the enchantment of dreams, he tended these days to entertain them. However, although he did not believe in these fantasies, Hussein imagined in his reverie that once his brother had obtained his certificate, he would get a job to relieve Hussein’s burden. Thus he could visualize himself embarking on a new, happy life with an easy conscience. He did not hope for more than a secure married life. His lonely days in his barren flat taught him the value of having a family, for which he was as eager as a homeless person for a shelter to protect him from the pouring rain. He could not bear to frequent restaurants to take his meals. He seemed afraid to remain alone in his room even for a short time. He was at once fatigued and fed up with his bachelor’s life, which required continuous attention to his flat, furniture, and clothes. And this itself dwindled into insignificance in comparison with the hunger and yearning in his heart. He was not in love with this particular girl so much as he was with the femaleness and conjugal life she represented. As the tangible ideal of his dreams, his heart yearned for her, becoming the more attached to her since he saw very little of her except on certain rare, happy occasions. At first Hussein thought that they were hiding her from him. But later it became clear to him that Hassan Effendi was a genuinely conservative man, tolerant up to a point but not beyond the limits of decency. If Hassanein agreed to get a job, this would make it possible for Hussein to go directly to his girl, marry her, and lead a true life. This was his dream. But realizing it was merely a dream, he did not know when it would come true. Hassanein would continue his education, and he himself should accept this without resentment. He must wait for life to run its course as God ordained.

But one evening an unexpected event made it clear to him that he would not enjoy this interval of waiting in peace and security. Immediately after he finished having tea with Hassan Effendi, the latter said to him, “An important matter, worth discussing with you, has recently come up.”

Inquiring, Hussein raised his eyes. The man said seriously, “Ihsan’s cousin, a merchant and farmer in Beheira province, wants to ask for her hand. But before deciding this matter, I thought I’d better ask your opinion.”

So shocking was this inauspicious surprise that it left the young man incredulous, dumbfounded, defeated, and bewildered. In fact, although he had some doubt as to how true it was, he found himself at an impasse, which his suspicions failed to overcome. He felt the resentment of a man whose circumstances forced him to waver and reduced him to a state of speechlessness. What should he say to the man?! If he agreed to marry, he would betray his family; and if he refused, all connections between him and Hassan Effendi would be severed. In spite of his agitation and bewilderment, he pictured the face of the girl on whom he had pinned his hopes, feeling the grip of despair closing about his neck. Disguising his increasing resentment, the young man cast a cold look on his tormentor; the man patiently scrutinized his face.

To break the long silence, the man inquired, “Hussein Effendi, what do you have to say about this?”

Knowing that he must speak, Hussein replied beseechingly, “There is nothing I can add to the detailed account I’ve already given you of our family circumstances.”

Sounding bored, the man said, “Your brother will be finishing his studies at the beginning of next summer.”

“But as far as I can see, he is determined to continue his education.”

The man became annoyed. “This is a silly idea to which you must not submit and you must not bear responsibility for it,” he said.

Seeking to avert this danger, Hussein was as evasive as a mouse hiding itself uselessly behind the leg of a chair.

“I can announce the engagement right now on condition that I can wait for a period of time before I marry,” he said.

“For how many years?” Hassan Effendi asked warmly.

Oh! The man thought that he was concerned only for his brother; he was almost unaware of Nefisa and her problem. Hussein genuinely wished he could blurt out the whole truth to him. Extremely fearful, he answered, “Four years.” Hussein looked at him to see the effect of this declaration. “Waiting will do us no harm. Don’t you trust me?” he said hurriedly.

Making a wry face, the man shook his head. “Four years!” he said with dreadful calm. “Who knows whether by then we’ll be alive? Do you want me to tell her mother that I’ve refused her cousin, who wants to marry her now, to keep her waiting four years more? Hussein Effendi, it seems to me you weren’t serious about your desire!”

Shaking in his agony, Hussein shouted, “May God forgive you, Hassan Effendi! I’m a faithful man and I still stick to my honest purpose. I see no reason why any obstacle should get in our way.”

“You simply don’t see the reason because you’re in the position of neither a father nor a mother. Now, put all arguments aside. Can’t you get married this year?”

A long silence prevailed. But Hussein uttered not a word. He had nothing to say. For a long time he remained both thoughtful and perplexed. Desperate and defeated, he pressed his lips. Hassan Effendi smiled faintly, compressing his lips in turn, his small oval face anguished and immobile. A long, strained silence fell upon them, and an odor of unfriendliness, intolerable to their nerves, spread like the hot dust carried by the winds of the khamsin, which blew up off the desert. However, Hussein, not bearing to take the first step in cutting off relations, asked dejectedly, as though predicting the answer, “Can’t you wait?”

“No,” the man nervously replied.

Embarrassed and pained, Hussein remained for a while. Then, taking his leave, he rose and departed. So intense was his sadness and despair that he left the flat with unseeing eyes, knowing that never again would he return to it. Back in his room, he lit the kerosene lamp and flung himself on the bed. He viewed everything around him with discontent and hostility. At this moment he hated not only himself but humanity at large. Am I weak or strong? he thought. What have I done with myself? Is it daring and courage or just contemptible flight? Everything appears detestable to me; I’ll be leaving this room, with the lonely room at the hotel waiting to engulf me. Perhaps the man imagines that he can annoy me in my work at school! Damn him; he will find me tougher than he thinks. But of what use is it all? Death is more merciful than hope itself! There is nothing surprising in this, for death is divinely appointed, while hope is the creation of human folly. Both end in frustration. Am I destined to lead a life of endless frustration? Why doesn’t Hassanein get a job on the baccalaureate? Why doesn’t he want for me what he wants for himself?

He became extremely vexed. Finding his loneliness intolerable, he took his suit from the peg, dressed, and left the house. The night was cold. He continued to roam the streets until he tired of walking, and finally went to a coffeehouse. Unexpectedly invigorated by the walk and the cold air, and calmer than before, he took a seat in the café. To pass the time, he watched the people sitting in the coffeehouse, listening to whatever scraps of their conversations reached his ears. These were not devoid of amusing remarks that made him smile. His mad fury subsided, leaving him in deep but mute sorrow, tinged with remorse. He wondered whether he should have agreed with the man. But would this man have been pleased if he had left his own family to the mercy of fate?! He realized his own folly, that he had a right to be sorrowful but no right to feel so furiously angry. Besides, it was foolish to surrender to sorrow. He knew that as long as he allowed irrationality to sway him he could not banish sorrow from his life, not for a long time to come. All the same, he believed that ultimately everything would come to an end. Even this choking sorrow would eventually be relieved. Like a person attempting to shake off a nightmare, he awaited this relief. Life’s miseries had taught him that one day it was bound to come. And when it came, he would experience no regret, but would have every reason for pride and the peace of an easy conscience. His sense of duty outweighed all his other emotions. How wide of the mark was Hassan’s accusation that he was fearful! To him it was enough that his mother understood him and considered him her hope and her consolation. Suffering in the pain of his present grief, he smiled at the prospect of hope.