Naguib Mahfouz - The Mirage

Stung to the core, I cried impatiently, “Talk about warped ideas! You don’t know a thing about the world we’re living in. Everything’s changed, and I have no doubt that she’s a wonderful girl from a very respectable family!”

Agitation overcame her feigned tranquility and she said edgily, “There’s no need for you to insult me on account of some young teacher you don’t know a thing about! All I’m trying to do is guide you to what’s in your best interest.”

I was more furious than ever now, and if I’d given in to how I felt, I would have said something I was sure to regret. However, I controlled myself and said imploringly, “God forbid that I should deliberately insult you. And I ask you to stop saying things that hurt me.”

Concealing her agitation with a smile, she regained her composure again and said in a resigned tone of voice, “Whatever hurts you, hurts me, and whatever makes you happy makes me happy. However, my advice to you, if you’re willing to accept it, is to watch your step. And may God grant you success in whatever will bring you blessing and happiness.”

Squeezing her hand gently I said affectionately, “Your approval of me is worth the world and everything in it.”

She smiled, saying, “I’ll pray for you from my heart night and day.”

Such a long silence then ensued that I thought the matter had been settled. However, she looked pensive and troubled, as though there was a thought she felt an urgent need to express, and she shot me more than one furtive, anxious look.

Then, overcoming her hesitation, she broke out of her silence and said carefully, “Don’t you think it would be best for you to postpone getting engaged until a year has passed since your father’s death? The thing I fear the most is for it to be said that you got engaged before the period of mourning over your father had ended, as though you’d been anxiously awaiting his death.”

I could hardly believe my ears! Her words sounded to me like a kind of subtle trickery that I couldn’t bear. I went back to feeling resentful and angry and I nearly exploded in a rage. However, I kept quiet until the storm had passed.

Then I said, “In any case, the wedding wouldn’t take place before a year had passed.”

The conversation ended at that point, as I’d hoped it would. I felt as though I’d overcome the greatest obstacle in my path. I should have been happy, and I was happy, no doubt. At the same time, my happiness was tinged with the feeling of disquiet that’s tormented me throughout my life. It’s haunted me even in my happiest hours, and whenever I make a decision, I find its whisper sapping my strength and destroying my peace of mind. However, my happiness on this particular occasion was too great to be influenced by anything.

The next morning I went to the tram stop with a new, intoxicating hope. It was as if she’d been waiting for me. I saw her through the window with her head wrapped in a white scarf. Beside myself with happiness, my mouth, my eyes, and my heart all smiled together. I lifted my gaze in her direction with unaccustomed courage, and I rejoiced to see a smile on her lovely face. The era of misery and deprivation had drawn to a close, the darkness in my soul had dispersed, my beloved’s countenance had appeared after a long, tormented absence, and we’d actually become friends who exchange a smile! What an incredible reality! Up until that morning I’d still been afraid that the previous day’s conversation might have meant something other than what I’d understood it to mean. However, after this challenging wait and this radiant smile, I could respond to the call of bliss with an assurance untainted by even the shadow of a doubt. I went to the ministry drunk with ecstasy. How strange the world is. Someone who’s been destined to see its look of displeasure can’t imagine that it would ever bestow such a smile. I drank in the unbelievable reality, my beloved’s smile, and I said to myself: What this means is that the doors of heaven have opened and are showering my heart with consolation. However, it won’t do anymore for me to remain idle or silent.

That afternoon I won a second smile, and the following morning a third, so I felt as though I had to overcome inertia through decisive action. The following Friday morning I left home in my black coat, looking smart and filled with determination and resolve. I found my sweetheart sunning herself on the balcony. After we’d exchanged a smile of greeting, I cast a cautious glance around me and gestured to her to come down and meet me. What audacity! Who would have believed it? I focused my gaze on her in trepidation. She looked back at me serenely, then a sweet smile crossed her lips and she retreated inside. Was she coming to meet me? Lord! I’d spent the entire previous night rehearsing for this hoped-for rendezvous. The younger sister appeared on the balcony and was followed shortly thereafter by the mother, and the two of them began looking in my direction. Did they know? This was what I hoped, since in this way I was more likely to ward off the danger posed by Muhammad Gawdat. My sweetheart appeared in the window as she put on her coat. My heart made a violent leap as I stood there, waiting like someone in a dream. Strangely, though, my feeling of happiness suddenly changed and grew tepid, like a beautiful voice that’s interrupted by a cough. I was gripped by an unnamed fear and a painful confusion, as though I were trying to recall something important that my memory refused to yield. Realizing the seriousness of the step I was about to take, I was overwhelmed with uncertainty and fear and had the urge to flee. The moment passed quickly, however, and I recovered my former confidence and joy. Heaving a sigh of relief, I crossed the sidewalk feeling merry and gay to wait for the love of my yearning heart. Then I saw her emerge through the door of the apartment building — lissome, stylish, and lovely — in a squirrel-gray coat. She walked to the tram stop with her usual dignified gait and stopped some distance from me. Her mother was on the balcony as if to bless the tryst and lend it propriety. Hence, in addition to the happiness I felt, I had a sense of responsibility. The tram that was to transport us arrived and I looked at it with gratitude, praying for its well-being, and asking God to grant its driver happiness and a raise! We got on together and I saw her proceed, contrary to her usual custom, toward the first-class compartment, so I followed her. There was no one in the compartment but a man and a woman, so my girl sat down, blushing with embarrassment. She may have expected me to sit down beside her and greet her. However, my courage failed me, so I sat down on the opposite seat feeling awkward, shy, and annoyed with myself. As the tram took off down the street, I stole mute, patient glances at her until we passed the Abbas Bridge. She rose and left the compartment, with me following close behind, and we got off at the next stop. Then she proceeded in the direction of a street that ran parallel to the Nile and I tagged along. My heart aflutter, I came gradually closer to her feeling desperately shy.

Then, in a voice that was just barely audible I said, “Good morning.”

She smiled without looking at me and murmured no less shyly, “Good morning.”

Her response to my greeting overwhelmed me with delight, and as we walked along side by side I thought fervently: O Lady Umm Hashim, look down upon us! I was truly afraid, and intensely flustered and inhibited. I tried to remember the things I’d rehearsed the day before, but I was feeling so muddled that my mind went blank and I couldn’t find my tongue. We walked quite some distance without my saying a word. How was I supposed to begin the conversation? What could I say? A terrible anguish came over me since I realized, of course, that I was supposed to speak and that it wasn’t fitting for me to be so quiet. Nevertheless, God didn’t inspire me with a single word, and it seemed as though speech were an art I’d never practiced. Then, as if she realized how ill at ease I was, she looked at me with a gentle smile on her lips, and I smiled shyly back.