Naguib Mahfouz - The Beginning and the End

“Peace be upon you,” was Hassan’s salutation, his resonant voice echoing painfully in Soliman’s fearful ears.

“May the peace of God, His mercy and blessing, be upon you.” Amm Gaber’s answer came from behind his desk. “How are you, Master Hassan?”

Soliman was too terrified to reply to the salutation. This is no greeting, he thought. It’s an evil omen. Oh, God! How did I allow myself to have an affair with a girl who has such a brother!

“Thanks be to God,” Hassan said. “I’ve come to speak to you about an important matter.”

He knows about the affair, Soliman thought. Now my father will know of the scandal. The devilish man is drawing near. Raising the ledge of the counter, he quickly slipped into the shop. I’m just a few inches from the devil’s grip. How foolish of me to have an affair with Nefisa! I wish Hassan would give me a chance to renounce this forthcoming marriage and undo my mistake.

Hassan leaned over the desk, supporting his hands on the edge. He kept turning his eyes from father to son. Expecting to receive a terrifying blow, Soliman lowered his head.

“I’ve learned that Soliman is to be married,” Hassan said.

“By God’s will,” Amm Gaber answered. “We hope your marriage, too, will soon occur.”

“When will the wedding ceremony be held?”

“In the very near future, by God’s will.”

“Amm Gaber, we are neighbors, and I think I am the right singer for the occasion,” Hassan said, rapping his fingers on the desk.

Soliman’s small eyes opened wide. He could not believe his ears. So this was the purpose of his visit! How could he forget that Nefisa would die rather than tell her secret to this tyrannical brother! He laughed twice, then burst out into uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. Surprised, his father and Hassan looked at him scoldingly. He stopped laughing at once.

“Without your singing, the wedding party will be nothing,” he said to Hassan genially.

Hassan smiled in satisfaction.

Afraid of the consequences of this foolish promise, Soliman’s father added, “With the greatest pleasure, Master Hassan. Personally I don’t object. But I’m afraid the bride’s father may have a different idea.”

Hassan looked at him suspiciously. “The bridegroom has the final say in this matter,” he said.

“We prefer to have you, Master Hassan,” Amm Gaber said gently, “but give me time to consult with Amm Gobran el-Tuni.”

Hassan pondered this. “Thank you, Amm Gaber,” he replied, “but I would like to remind you of the advantages of having me sing at the wedding party. The most important, in my view, is that nobody, however strong and evil-intentioned, would dare to break into the party, as often happens.”

The old man’s face betrayed interest. He quickly realized the threat that lay behind this polite talk. He smiled at the fearsome face of the young man. He spoke gently. His son’s mouth was open as he listened to his father.

“Not all wedding parties suffer from such attacks.”

“There are many wild hoodlums out there,” Hassan replied. “They rarely pass up an opportunity to invade a wedding party and rob the guests.”

“That used to happen in the past,” the old man said warily. “But now there are the police to fear.”

Hassan smiled and shook his head. “They think nothing of the police,” he said, “and they usually do their dirty work before the police arrive. How simple it is to begin by destroying the lamps! In the darkness, fear strikes the hearts of the guests, who are unable to see where they are walking. Decorations are torn down, chairs are overturned, food is spilled, clothes are stolen, and members of the bride’s and bridegroom’s families are seriously injured. When the criminal activities are over, people find themselves more in need of first aid than of the police. And to put it in official jargon, the perpetrator always remains unknown in such cases. Even if it occurs to somebody to lead the police to the evildoer, he merely exposes himself to a greater danger. So the case, instead of being a minor one tried before a misdemeanor court, turns into a case for a criminal court. And it is simple common sense to notice that, even if the evildoer is punished, this hardly compensates for the loss of life and money.”

Amm Gaber listened, attentive and most pessimistic. He felt helpless. He could think of no way to avoid this threat. So he tried to console himself with the belief that Hassan was not a bad singer after all. The old man smiled faintly.

“However evil these wrongdoers are,” he said, “they dare not invade us if you’re the singer at our party.”

“Amm Gaber,” he replied, “you’re a generous man. Perhaps one day I shall be lucky enough to sing at your own wedding party, if you ever think of marrying again!”

Relieved, Soliman laughed like a man suddenly safe after exposure to certain danger.

His father smiled wryly. “May God forgive you,” he murmured.

Hassan feigned a cough. He said in a fresh tone, “I don’t want to take up more of your time. It’s time for me to leave, after picking up the advance payment.”

“Now?” the old man asked in terror.

“The sooner, the better. You know, I’m just a modest singer; I only charge five pounds for myself and the members of my band. And for the time being, I’ll be satisfied with only one pound.”

Perplexed, the old man was silent for a time.

This is the will of God, and I have to he resigned to it, he thought. He opened the drawer of his desk, took out a one-pound note, and placed it on the desk. Hassan picked it up.

“My best wishes,” he said, and went away.

The tramcar arrived. Nefisa climbed on board, followed by her landlady, Mrs. Zeinab, who accompanied her to the home of Amm Gobran el-Tuni to introduce her to his family. Her makeup applied, Nefisa’s face was as presentable as possible. She put on her best dress. Nefisa had felt all along that there was something peculiar about her journey. She had said to herself many times that it was mad to go to this particular house, but she was at a loss as to how to relinquish such a fortunate opportunity, which her mother regarded with great happiness. Undoubtedly, her soliloquy did not express her real wishes. She was aware that she was trying to hide her true desires from herself. She wished to see the bride at whatever cost. Her desire to do so was too strong and persistent to be resisted. She had no intention or desire to compare her beauty with that of the bride. To start with, she knew that the bride was more beautiful; there was nothing new in that. But though this was obvious enough to her, she could not resist a chance to see the girl. Somehow she felt attached to the bride by strong ties, felt that her own fate was bound up with hers. She had not yet recovered from the violent shock which had crushed her body and soul. But the passage of time managed to calm her boiling revolt, and replace it with a poisonous bitterness, a fatal despair, and a tortured sense of loneliness that made her feel alienated from her own family and abnormal among the creatures of the earth. She experienced an overwhelming sense of oppression that aroused in her two opposed, persistently alternating desires: uncontrollable revolt coupled with further self-torture and self-laceration. Such was her state when she boarded the tramcar in anticipation of the coming meeting. Nefisa and Mrs. Zeinab got off at the fourth stop. They headed for Al Walid Street, then turned into a large building, on the ground floor of which was Amm Gobran el-Tuni’s grocery. They climbed the stairs and entered a flat on the second floor, and were received by a very fat lady, in her fifties, with a white complexion. They all entered the sitting room.