Naguib Mahfouz - Khan Al-Khalili

By now it was almost nine o’clock, and he remembered that he was supposed to meet his friends at the Zahra Café, having finally become one of those people who have rendezvous in cafés. He put on his fresh clothes — suit, fez, shoes, and shirt — and looked at himself in the mirror. He was impressed by his own elegance and seriousness. He recalled times past, the days of his youth — before time had frowned on him — when he had been famous for his neat appearance. He left the apartment full of happiness and walked slowly, relishing all the hopes and dreams filling his mind. “What comes after a smile?” he asked himself with all the perplexity of one distracted by joy. “What comes next, O Fortune?”

Rushdi went back to his room, lit a cigarette, and started to smoke by the window. His gaze was riveted to that particular window, all in the hope of catching a glimpse of his lovely neighbor once in a while. His hopes were rewarded when she did indeed appear at the window, wearing her new outfit and with a gray coat over her shoulders. However, she quickly withdrew, almost as though she needed to escape from his piercing stare. The young man had taken due note of the coat and surmised that she was on the point of going out. He quickly took out some clothes and started getting dressed. Within minutes he was out of the apartment.

He wondered where was the best place to wait. Just then he remembered the narrow passageway that connected the quarter to the New Road. He rushed over there, then stopped on the sidewalk at the spot where it joined the main road. The entire street was teeming with people. Carts had come down from the Darrasa district loaded with boys and girls singing, dancing, and banging drums. He stayed where he was, one eye happily watching the crowds in the street and the other glued hopefully to the passageway. He was an old hand at this type of situation, so he was not worried.

As it turned out, he did not have long to wait. The girl soon appeared at the entrance to the passageway accompanied by a young boy who closely resembled her. He avoided looking straight at her by lighting another cigarette. He had no doubt that she had spotted him, but he still wondered whether she had realized that he was actually waiting for her. As she made her way toward al-Azhar, he followed close behind and was able to get a good look at her for the first time. She was sixteen at the most, of medium height, and nicely turned out. However, it was her face that was the loveliest part of her, and her honey-colored eyes were its loveliest feature.

He did not manage to enjoy looking at her for very long, because she soon reached the trolley stop and got on the women’s carriage along with her brother — that was his assumption about the young boy. He too got on the trolley, one carriage back so he could see where she got off. The trolley began to move, and he had no idea where this particular chase was going to take him. He now started an assessment: a young girl, seventy-five percent for face; sixty-five percent for figure; and it wouldn’t take long to find out whether she was easy prey or would present more of a challenge. Would she get swept up in the romance, or was she dreaming of getting a wedding ring? We’ll know soon enough, he told himself. If it’s the wedding ring she’s after, then things might rapidly become tricky; even worse, annoying. At this stage, however, the most important thing was to cajole her into chatting and then see what happened.

When the trolley reached Queen Farida Square, they all got off — the girl and her brother first, and then him. Just then she happened to look round and noticed him staring directly at her. She immediately turned away and pretended to be deep in conversation with her brother. Now he was sure that she realized he was deliberately following her.

The pair boarded the first trolley that came, the one going to Giza. He immediately boarded it as well. “Are they going to visit a relative,” he wondered to himself, “so they can celebrate the Eid with him?” At that moment he decided, out of the sheer goodness of his heart, that he would leave the day to her. But at just that moment they both alighted at the Imad al-din stop. He now realized that they were going to the cinema, a thought that delighted him. They all crossed the road to Imad al-din Street, the pair first, then him behind them, poised and ready to respond to a smile or any kind of gesture she might make if she looked behind her. But instead, she kept staring straight to the front, grasping her brother’s hand as he hurried to keep up with her. Rushdi kept his gaze firmly on her back and legs, her gait, and the way she walked. He was happy to discover that the view of her from the back was just as nice as from the front. Her rear view earned her a solid eighty percent. It all took him back to the old days. “Well, well,” he told himself, “these days there’s beauty to be had in Egypt.”

When they got to the Ritz Cinema, she looked behind her and noticed him still staring hard at her. Quickly looking away, she hurried off in the direction of Studio Egypt, leaving him flummoxed by the lack of any clear signal. He regretted the fact that their eyes had not had a real conversation, and yet her choice of cinema pleased him a lot. It was showing the film, Dananir . He realized that this little chase he had embarked upon would now offer him a double pleasure. He was eager to sit next to her, so he managed to work his way to a spot right behind her in the queue at the box office; that way he could select a seat right next to hers. The young boy was standing to one side, looking at the pictures. Rushdi moved up close behind her, so close that it felt as though his breaths were actually touching her ponytail; it gave him the same sensation as the purest of scents. He watched her fingers as they picked out two seats on the cinema chart for herself and her brother. He noticed that there would be a single vacant seat to the right and three to the left. Which side would the girl be sitting on? he asked himself. To find out, he used the old guessing game, “eeny meeny miny mo,” and came up with the seat on the right. He chose it with a degree of confidence and then moved away. Looking around he could find no sign of either the girl or her brother, but that did not bother him. After all, he had the ticket in hand; that was enough to put him next to her, no matter where she had disappeared. He had no idea why, but it all reminded him — the power given him by the ticket, that is — of the sanctity and magic of marriage, all of which gave his heart a jolt.

He was still feeling the effects as he entered the cinema. As the usher escorted him to his seat, he was hoping that his choice had been the right one, but he discovered that the boy was sitting between himself and the girl. The girl saw him coming and looked away in alarm; she refused to even glance in his direction. He sat in his seat, delighted, and kept stealing glances in her direction. On two occasions he noticed that she was staring straight in front of her; the way she was blushing and looking thoroughly awkward made him fully aware of how bashful and agitated she was feeling. That made him feel sorry for her, and he decided then and there not to bother her any more. Instead, he contented himself by looking around at the boxes and rows of seats and fondly surveying the bosoms, necks, mouths, and wrists on display. He did not have long to wait. A bell sounded, lights were dimmed, and the screen prepared itself to unwrap the world of dreams. He was happy enough to be sitting close to the girl with whom he had fallen in love, even though his heart was actually not fully involved as yet. The heavenly voice started to sing the spring song, “How sweet the gentle breeze!” and he allowed himself to float off into another world. He had always loved singing, so much so that one day it had even occurred to him that he had been born to be a musician. As the film continued, he felt himself swept up in a divine melody.