Naguib Mahfouz - The Beginning and the End

“I hope this will take place during the next vacation,” Hussein said.

He wondered whether he should bring up the subject or wait until Farid Effendi broached it. Having consulted his mother, Hussein took his marriage for granted. Yet how could he possibly know what Farid Effendi’s family really thought? Waiting for their approval, he became increasingly worried. When Bahia’s mother entered, he rose to receive her courteously, warmly pressing her hand. He considered her coming a good omen. Taking a seat, she said, “I’m delighted to see you, my son. How is your mother?”

“All right, madam,” Hussein said warmly. “She sends her regards.”

Glancing toward his wife, Farid Effendi said to her, “Hussein Effendi has come to say goodbye to us before leaving tomorrow, and I think now is the proper time to tell him of our decision.”

He turned to the young man. “As for your proposal, it gives me pleasure, Hussein Effendi, to tell you that we agree to it.”

Hussein followed the man’s words with a rapidly beating heart that gave him a sharp ache at the utterance of certain words. When Farid Effendi had finished speaking, Hussein leapt to his feet with joy.

“Thank you, sir,” he said with a sob in his voice. “One thousand thanks. I’m tremendously happy.”

“He’ll be transferred to Cairo during the next vacation,” the man said, smiling, to his wife.

“This is good news,” the woman said, laughing.

“Naturally, we want all of you to be near us.”

Flushing, the young man said in a voice expressing pleasure, “By God’s will, so it shall be!”

“We’d better wait a reasonable period of time before announcing the engagement,” Farid Effendi suggested, then added with a confused laugh, “So that there will be a decent period of time between the two engagements.”

Lowering his eyes, Hussein murmured, “I entirely agree.”

Farid Effendi rose and left the room, to return minutes later followed by Bahia. Though Hussein knew instinctively that she would appear, yet her actual arrival came as such a shocking surprise that he sprang to his feet, exerting his utmost in self-control. Silently he stretched out his hand to her. As their hands met, he felt the softness, the cool delicacy of hers. His breast was heaving, his heart overflowing with grateful tenderness. He felt strongly that he must say something, but his mind was a blank. Mentally paralyzed by her presence, he was speechless. But soon his senses were submerged in happiness and satisfaction; he had no regrets for his speechlessness; he felt the kind of gentle peacefulness that follows therapy after a bout of pain. How lovely, he thought. How could anybody be blind to her accomplishments? She has been an embodiment of virtue and meekness that quenches my burning thirst for a happy domestic life. She doesn’t excite, but infuses the heart with peace and serenity. He said that they agreed and he brought the girl in person as tangible evidence of this agreement.

Hussein wanted to probe Bahia’s thoughts. Had she already recovered from the shock? Was her heart cured? Had she really begun to develop an interest in him? As they resumed their conversation, which he now considered intrusive and unnecessary, the girl’s parents put an end to his self-absorption. Might they, Hussein wondered, possibly, by a miracle, leave them alone? He remembered, when his eyes had once met hers, how he had become ecstatically absorbed in their pure blue serenity. Surely, he had so many things to say to her. Anyhow, he had ample time ahead of him to reveal his thoughts and feelings to her, no matter how insignificant they were. During pauses in the conversation, there came to him a tender sensation that there was enough pure, sublime happiness in this world to obliterate its misery. He wished this happiness would last, and that he could remain sitting with her forever in the same room. He wanted these sentiments of the moment to be life-embracing and continue as long as he lived.

The conversation went on, but a gesture or a murmur was her only contribution to it. It was time for him to leave. Excusing himself, he shook hands with her and left the flat, feeling for the first time that the luscious fruits of life were awaiting him, ready to be plucked.

Hussein had departed. Part of the period of waiting for the Bey’s answer, which Hassanein called the probationary period, had passed. Wavering between hope and despair, he was forced to endure it stoically. Hassanein was unhappy that his brother was gone. He wished to have him by his side for advice when he received Ahmad Bey Yousri’s answer. Willful and tyrannical though Hussein was, Hassanein always listened to his advice. The fact that Hussein had embarked on his marriage project was a source of relief to Hassanein, who was actually uneasy about marrying before his neglected brother, who had denied himself all the pleasures of life and borne the brunt of it. This did not mean that he was uninterested in the future of his family. In fact, he expected much good, both for himself and for his family, to emerge from his prosperous marriage. With this logic, he dismissed his family’s troubles; now he was free to seek his own fortune with an easy conscience. This was his state of mind when a friend and colleague asked him to meet him at Luna Park Casino in Heliopolis. Ali al-Bardisi was his favorite friend. Their friendship started and flourished while they were cadets at the College and it was continued in spite of the fact that Hassanein joined the cavalry and Ali al-Bardisi the air force.

Hassanein found his friend waiting for him, and they sat in the Casino garden. His friend ordered two glasses of beer. From the first moment, Hassanein sensed that his friend had a serious matter to discuss with him. Despite his apparent joviality, al-Bardisi struck him as unusually grave and pensive. After a while he asked Hassanein, “Do you remember Lieutenant Ahmad Rafat?”

“Of course,” Hassanein said with indifference. “He graduated with us in the same year. An artillery officer, isn’t he?”

His friend nodded affirmatively, then proceeded with bitterness and annoyance, “Yesterday I heard him speak about you to a group of friends in a way that angered and offended me.”

Astonished, Hassanein stared at him. This was most unexpected. “What are you saying?” he inquired.

“Some friends and I were playing cards in his house in Ma’adi,” Ali al-Bardisi said somberly.

“So?”

“I don’t remember how the subject came up. We were drunk, and I heard him say things that were offensive to you personally. First of all, tell me, did you really ask for the hand of the daughter of a man called Ahmad Bey Yousri?”

The name shook the young man like an earthquake and his heart beat violently. He suddenly remembered that Ahmad Rafat was closely connected with some of Ahmad Bey Yousri’s relatives. He tried hard to compose himself. A coarse feeling of fear and pessimism came over him.

“Perhaps,” he answered curtly.

“Do you know that Ahmad Rafat is a friend of this family?”

“Possibly. But tell me what he said.”

For a while, al-Bardisi hesitated and kept silent. “I understood, from his conversation,” he murmured in a low, obviously embarrassed voice, “that the family did not approve. I’m sorry to tell you.”

This piece of news weighed heavily upon him, making him feel small, shattering his sense of dignity and manhood. Boiling with anger, he was about to surrender to his flaming fury, but at the last moment he managed to subdue his passion. He pretended indifference.

“Was this what you found offensive, my friend?” he asked with a laugh.

“No, this sort of thing happens every day,” his friend said, gloomy and disconcerted. “But he indiscreetly mentioned the reasons for the family’s disapproval. Though they are trivial reasons that don’t degrade a man, yet I was very much offended to hear them repeated in a crowd of drunkards.”