Naguib Mahfouz - The Beginning and the End

“What do you think?” came Hassan’s voice.

Stunned, Hussein raised his eyes to him, his brother’s voice fearful in its effect. Hassan was still holding the bracelets in his hand. Lowering his eyes, Hussein shyly said, “Thank you for your generosity, which I accept willingly. I beg you to consider this a debt, which I’ll pay off when, by God’s will, I have enough.”

“Accept it as a present, if you like. And tell Mother that I borrowed the money from Mr. Ali Sabri.”

Hassan’s mention of his mother aroused his resentment and gave him acute pain. As he took the bracelets and put them in his pocket, his resentment doubled.

“Sorry to have disturbed you. I think I should be leaving so that you can get back to your nap,” Hussein said.

Stretching out his hand in farewell, Hassan smiled and pressed his brother’s hand. “May God give you safe conduct. My regards to everybody, and tell Mother that I’ll visit her shortly,” he said.

Disapproving and resentful, Hussein left the house. Climbing cautiously down the stairs with no handrail, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he paid no attention to the putrefying odor.

The members of the family were gathering in the brothers’ room, which henceforth would become Hassanein’s alone. As she cast a glance at Hussein’s face, Nefisa’s heart was pierced with pain.

“Oh, God! This will be the last night our family will be together!” she cried.

On hearing these words, their mother felt stabbed in the heart, despite the great patience life had taught her. Nevertheless, she smiled, or rather she forced a smile on her dry lips.

“Hussein is a mature man,” she said. “He can manage to live by himself with no trouble or confusion. I’m completely certain that he won’t forget us. He will always remember us as we shall always remember him. Don’t be silly, darling, this is life. Painful though it is, the members of every family are eventually bound to part happily from one another, for each has his or her own role to perform in life.”

Hussein knew his mother so well that he realized that she was hiding her sorrow under a cloak of wisdom and firmness, as she often did. So he decided to grapple firmly with his own sense of desolation. Like a child, he had wept bitterly. But he was destermined not to weep again. Imitating his mother’s smile, he murmured, “We shall meet during holidays. Perhaps I’ll be transferred to Cairo one day.”

“This is bound to happen one day,” Hassanein remarked thoughtfully.

Hassanein felt melancholy and depressed. He had never been separated from his brother, not since he was born. He did not know how to face life without him. Hussein was a brother and friend to him. Though there were many occasions for dispute between them, and they sometimes even quarreled, they were indispensable to each other. Had Bahia been less stubborn, he would never have complained of loneliness. Yet he consoled himself in parting from his brother by the thought of writing letters to him every now and then. Perhaps during holidays he could travel to Tanta to see him. Could he hope to receive a monthly sum of money from Hussein, perhaps fifty or thirty piasters, especially since the fees he received from private lessons were discontinued at the end of the school year? How he wished he had enough nerve to confide his hopes to his brother. But he persuaded himself to be patient, postponing this matter until a more favorable occasion.

Samira’s mind continued to churn. She was pleased that she had succeeded in maintaining an appearance of composure. However, this evening the agony in her heart reached its peak. She experienced a mysterious sense of remorse for the favoritism she had showed Hassanein and the sacrifice of the best part of herself for his sake. But what had things come to?! Hussein, her meek son, had accepted the sacrifice of his career and the suffering of loneliness for the sake of his family, and for Hassanein in particular. Her pain was intensified by the feeling that it was her duty to speak to Hussein, with detachment and no evidence of emotion, about a sore subject; she must disguise her actual purpose, the defense of family interests, by giving the impression that her real motive was love. Tenderly and compassionately, she looked at Hussein as she arranged his clothes in his father’s suitcase.

“You’re wise, and that gives me reassurance. Above all, I hope you will continue your gentlemanly conduct in your new surroundings and avoid evil company,” she said.

“Mother, rest entirely assured about this,” Hussein answered with a smile.

However, the reference to “evil company” evoked in his mind the image of Gandab alley, the stair without banisters, and the gold bracelets. Dispirited, his face lost its glowing smile. He bent over the suitcase to hide his sadness.

“Don’t forget your family,” his mother continued. “I know there is no need to remind you of this, but I must tell you that we shall need your help until Hassanein gets a job and Nefisa gets married.”

“This was my only reason for accepting the job.”

Horror-stricken, Nefisa shuddered. The word “marry” pierced her soul, and she imagined it disclosed her secret. Did her mother still have such hopes? Didn’t she know that her daughter would rather die than marry? She cast a curious glance at Hussein’s face. He was in the dark about what had happened. None of them could have possibly imagined it. Impossible! As the room swam before her eyes, she saw them gazing at her in demented fury, their fiery, bulging eyes flaming with anger and preying like monsters on her flesh. She shook her head to banish these horrible fantasies. Eventually she managed to recognize her surroundings for what they really were. But in spite of herself, she soon remembered the hours of her weakness when she had been seduced, overcome by the sexual urge brought about by her despair and poverty. In these hours of weakness, forgetting everything but her thirsty, unsatiated desire, she felt like mutilating herself. Now, struck dumb in the presence of her family, she remembered those awful hours; she was overwhelmed with painful shame and soundless fear. She kept looking curiously from her mother to her brothers. Though, of course, it was too late to repair the damage, she still saw a chance to retreat. But…Oh, God! She did not know what to say. What use was it now? What hope did life hold out for her? She was doomed to self-destruction.

“Keep the money you need to meet your living expenses, and send us the rest of your salary,” Samira went on. “You must do so, Hussein. We’ve nothing more in the house that is worth selling.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Since their mother had asked for the rest of Hussein’s salary, Hassanein almost lost hope of receiving an allowance from his brother. While Hussein’s appointment might afford his family some relief, Hassanein would remain badly in need of money, especially during the long summer holidays. He wondered, once he had a job, whether his mother would have similar claims upon him! Impossible! By the time he finished his studies, his mother would be relieved of her most burdensome family duties. So it would be possible for him to marry and look after himself. Nefisa and Hussein being the victims of these difficult times, they had to face the storm at its most violent. He felt pity and sympathy for them, but he rejoiced that his prospects were more cheerful than theirs.

Without revealing all her thoughts, Samira wished to put Hussein on his guard against the snares of marriage. She was well aware that many parents easily laid traps for bachelors, away from their homes, to marry their daughters. But she was at a loss as to how to raise this point with Hussein, seeing that Hassanein, his younger brother, still a youngster in school, was already engaged and preparing to marry. Reluctantly she relinquished the idea of broaching this subject. However, she had confidence in Hussein’s prudence and wise judgment.