Naguib Mahfouz - The Beginning and the End

“Never mind. I’m delighted to see you in good health. Now you must send a letter at once to your brother to reassure him and Nefisa, who were extremely worried when I left.”

Then she cast a scrutinizing glance about his room. In fear and anxiety, his attention fixed on the new suit hanging on the peg. He was mentally preparing himself to invent a new lie. But she only commented. “Your room is clean and its furniture is good. Come on and show me your flat.”

“My flat only consists of this room,” Hussein said, laughing. “There’s an extra room which I lock up because I don’t need it.”

“This means that for one room you pay the rent on a whole flat? Wasn’t the hotel cheaper?”

“On the contrary, the flat’s rent is fifty piasters less than the hotel.”

“You’ve told us that you don’t need a servant to clean the flat. Doesn’t the cleaning give you trouble?”

“No. It’s easy for me, as you know.”

She smiled gently. “My son, you seem happy and comfortable, which pleases me.”

The crisis now apparently over, he said with genuine relief, “It’s I who am happy, Mother. I’ll have your company for a whole month.”

She could not help laughing. “Only this night,” she said. “There is no room for me to sleep in. Besides, I shall be too much of a burden to you, since you buy your food from the market.”

Before he could open his mouth, there was a knock on the door. He went to open it. Samira heard a voice speaking with a countryside accent: “My master Hassan is asking why you’re late today.”

Then she heard Hussein excusing himself, telling of his mother’s arrival from Cairo. Closing the door and returning to sit on the bed, he saw his mother looking at him with inquiring eyes.

“That was the servant of my neighbor Hassan Effendi, the chief clerk of the school,” he said.

She knew from her son’s letters that this was the man who had persuaded him to rent a flat and served as guarantor so that he could buy his new furniture.

“From what the servant said, it seems to me that you spend your leisure time at his place,” she remarked.

Imagining for a moment that she could read all his secret thoughts, he avoided her eyes; he felt the sting of fear creeping into his mouth and obstructing his throat.

“I often do,” he said. “He’s a good-natured man, and besides, he’s my boss. I’ve found his company a substitute for coffeehouses and their corruptions. One has to entertain oneself in one’s leisure time.”

Samira rose. She went to the bathroom to wash her face. Removing her overcoat, Hussein took it and brushed it with his own brush, praying to God that her visit would end peaceably. He was worried and afraid his secret might be discovered. His mother’s presence here where his secret lay agitated him. He cursed the stupid circumstances which made him fail to send her the money. Returning to her place, the woman began inquiring about his life. But their conversation was soon interrupted by a second knock on the door. Rather indignantly Hussein went to open it. The same servant had returned.

“My elder mistress,” she said aloud, “wishes to greet Madam, your mother.”

Samira hurried into the hall to speak to the servant.

“There’s no room here to receive her. I shall visit her myself.”

The servant went away. Samira and her son returned to the room.

“There’s no need for this visit,” Hussein said. “Since you can’t stay here very long, we shouldn’t part even for one minute.”

“These are customary courtesies,” she sighed. “Obviously, I’m concerned about courtesy to your boss’s family.”

They resumed their conversation until the brightness of the daylight faded away. When twilight came, Samira rose and put on her overcoat.

“It’s time for me to visit your neighbor’s wife,” she said.

With gloomy eyes, the young man watched her until she left the flat. Heaving a deep sigh, he wondered if she had any doubts about him and how this trip would end!

Worried and depressed, he remained alone; his worry increased as time went by. He no longer entertained any doubt that his secret had been discovered. In his attempt at reassuring himself, he wondered why his imagination was running wild. He hoped that his mother’s visit would end in peace. Surely they would not hint at anything. Yet would she fail to discover the truth if she saw Ihsan? In the gathering darkness, he rose and lit a kerosene lamp. Then, hearing a knock on the door, his heart beat violently. He opened it for his mother to enter.

“I don’t think I was away for long,” she said.

They both entered the room. He stood leaning on the windowsill. Silently she started to take off her overcoat and shoes.

I know it, he thought. Her face is hiding something, many things. I’ll bet she didn’t go to the trouble of traveling to Tanta just to be reassured about my health. My mother is not that weak. She is kind indeed, but unquestionably strong. When will this dreadful silence end?

“How did you find them?” he asked with pretended indifference.

Climbing onto his bed, she sat cross-legged.

“I don’t know why, but my heart didn’t feel at home with them,” she said curtly.

But he knew the reason. His secret had been discovered, much to his dismay.

“The truth is that Hassan Effendi is a good-hearted man,” he said.

“Perhaps! I haven’t met him, of course.”

He would not inquire what caused her uneasiness with them. Better ignore it. But he couldn’t ignore it for long. He saw her looking at her hands, lying clasped in her lap. She was thinking of what she should say. What a serious blunder he’d made! He should not have yielded to the circumstances that tempted him not to send any money to them this month. He, the head of the family, and how far he’d gone astray! He saw his mother looking sullenly at him.

“Now that I’m reassured about your health,” he heard her say, “I don’t think it shameful to tell you frankly that we were frightened when you stopped sending us the money. Excuse me, my son, if I confess to you that I had some doubts that your illness might be a mere pretext!”

“Mother!” he cried in spite of himself.

“Forgive me, my son; sometimes it’s sinful to doubt. But for a long time I’ve been pondering the temptations that beset a lonely young man like you in a strange town. Yes, I trust your wisdom. But Satan is clever, and I was afraid that he might have led you astray. Since you know that my dependence on you is next to my dependence on God, you can easily imagine the extent of my grief. Your brother Hassan is no longer a member of our family. Nefisa is an unfortunate girl. And Hassanein is only a student and will remain so for a long time to come. You know him better than we do. We lead a starving, miserable life to overcome our bad luck. Besides, we’ve lost your share of your late father’s pension, and shortly we’ll lose that of your brother.”

“I need no reminder, Mother,” Hussein said passionately. “It was a mistake. I was forced not to send you the money. I’m really sorry, Mother.”

She spoke tenderly as if in a soliloquy. “It’s I who am sorry.” Then, after a pause, she added, “I’m sorry that I often give the impression of getting in the way of my sons’ happiness.”

“You’re doing yourself great injustice,” he said with concern. “As a mother, you’re the model of clemency.”

“I’m glad you understand me.” Looking into his eyes, she sighed. “Nothing preoccupies my mind so much as the future of your sister, Nefisa. I wish to see her married. But how? We don’t possess a single millieme for her trousseau. It disturbs me deeply to think that I may die before getting her married. You’re men, but she’s a helpless woman with no support.”