The Beggar, the Thief and the Dogs, Autumn Quail

  The servant took her away to a building which faced the shop on the other side of the street. He gazed after them till they disappeared. Breathing heavily, he looked up at the sky, and then muttered, “Mercy…mercy…”

  TWENTY-NINE

  He sat down in the Eagle Café near Riri’s place, to avoid being seen by her. He was very sorry that he had not spoken to the servant or the little girl, and had not been able for a single moment to shake himself out of the paralysis which had gripped him. The girl was sweet, energetic, and dainty; wasn’t her age consistent with the whole sad episode? What could he do now? He could not postpone his answer; the past was becoming more and more loathsome, and the thought of going back to Qadriyya was too awful to even be considered. He totally abandoned the idea of running away; he had got used to running several times a day, but he would not do so in the face of this new reality which had stirred up the turgid marsh of his own life till it burst out from free springs. Maybe it was a final despairing invitation to a life with some meaning—a meaning he had failed to find anywhere. No, this time he would not run away; he could not do so. He would face reality defiantly, and at any price; yes, at any price at all. How he would welcome it! Qadriyya would certainly be able to find another man to live under her wing. She deserved affection, it was true, but the false life which he had lived with her did not merit it. It was futile to carry on with such a life, mulling over past fancies without any future. His heart never throbbed with love for anything, but now here was a golden opportunity for it to throb till he died. The little girl was his own daughter; in a few minutes he would know the truth. He would not condemn her to the same orphaned state which history had decreed for him. A veritable bomb would explode in his life because of her; remarks, rumors, and thoughts, all these things would make him the talk of the town. However, he would steel himself to the ordeal; he would suffer, make amends, and then he would live. Eventually he would find a meaning in life. If and when he could join up with his real family, he would stay in Alexandria, invest his money in this little place, and start a new life. He suppressed his shame, pride, and stubbornness, and faced life courageously.

  He waited until it was past midnight. The Corniche was empty, or almost so. The people who were sitting around went away. He noticed people cleaning up in Riri’s place, getting ready to close. He went over to the side street that went up into town; he stood at the corner facing the building. A figure appeared at the end of the street; it was Riri approaching. He moved forward a step till he was under the light so that she could make out his features. She came nearer, but did not pay any attention to him as he stood there. She did not bother with dawdlers anymore; that was very good.

  “Riri,” he said in a gentle, quavering voice as she was about to walk past him.

  She stopped and looked at him. “Who are you?” she asked.

  He moved a step closer. She stared at him without showing any signs of emotion, “I’m Isa,” he replied.

  She was looking really fit, coy, and attractive. There was little doubt that she remembered him; at least, the way in which she looked so shocked, then frowned, tightened her lips, and showed her disgust indicated that she did. She was about to move on, but he blocked her path.

  “Who are you?” she yelled angrily. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Isa, as you know very well!”

  “I don’t know you,” she replied, her face betraying all kinds of different emotions.

  “Of course you do,” he replied ardently. “There’s no reason for you to deny it! I don’t expect you to accept excuses, but we’ve some things to talk about.”

  “I don’t know you; let me pass.”

  “We must talk,” he said desperately. “There’s no other way, I’m much more miserable than you can possibly imagine!”

  “Go away,” she replied angrily, “get lost! That’s the best thing you can do!”

  “But I’m almost going out of my mind. Who’s the little girl, Riri?”

  “Which little girl?”

  “The one who came and sat on your lap a few hours ago, and then came into this building with her nanny. I noticed you quite by chance, and then I saw her. I followed her until she went into the building. I’m more miserable than you can imagine, I assure you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied emphatically. “Go away; that’s the best thing you can do!”

  “I’m almost going out of my mind. You must say something. She’s my daughter, Riri. You must tell me.”

  “Get out of my sight,” she yelled in the silent street. “You’re both blind and mad! Get lost, will you!”

  “But my heart has told me everything.”

  “It’s a liar, like you! That’s all there is to it.”

  “You must tell me. I’m going crazy. I realize I’ve been despicable, but you’ve got to tell me. Tell me the girl’s my daughter.”

  “The only thing I’ve got to say to you is: Get lost!”

  “I know I deserve to roast in hell, but now I’ve a chance to do something good. Please don’t make me lose it!”

  “Go away,” she yelled in a voice like a hurricane, “and don’t let me see your face again.”

  “Riri, listen to me. Can’t you see that I’m asking you to say something? Even if I died…”

  “Go to hell! I warn you; get out of my way!” She rushed past him and dashed toward the door of the building.

  THIRTY

  He returned home before dawn after spending ages wandering along the Corniche by himself. He did not hear the sound of the waves, nor did he notice a single star. He found Qadriyya still awake waiting for him. She looked extremely anxious and annoyed. He was on the point of confessing everything to her; had he noticed any sign of encouragement from his conversation with Riri, he would have done so. But all he could tell Qadriyya was that he had been trying to resist his bad habits and had felt the need to hang around on the Corniche till dawn. “Damn it all,” he told himself as he flung himself on the bed, “I must pull this false life out by the roots. Either there’s got to be a new life, or else there’s no escape; it’ll be back to the gambling, cognac, and old women’s chatter in the corner of El Bodega.”

  He went begrudgingly with her to the Rio cinema the next day in the evening, and then they ate dinner in a tavern. Afterwards they went home, and he made to go out. “Go to sleep, my dear,” he told her, “sleep well and leave me to cure myself.”

  He hovered for a long time around Riri’s place and in front of the building in case he might catch a glimpse of the little girl, but without success. He sat down in the Eagle Café. In spite of his failure the day before, there was still a vague hope that kept toying with him as though he were drunk. He believed that tonight all the world’s problems would be solved without any trouble. He looked up at the sky, obscured by dark clouds, and told himself that autumn in Alexandria has a spirit of paradise about it to wash away all sorrows; they were merely illusions, and death was the guardian of eternal happiness. “How marvelous,” he whispered to himself, “to be drunk without drinking any wine.”

  A bootblack was standing in front of him and giving him a pleading look. Isa noticed him and read more than one meaning in the look which the man was giving him. Isa gestured to him to sit down and then gave him his shoes to shine. He was eager to console himself by confirming his idea about this man. “Are there any vacant flats around?” he asked.

  “At this time of year,” the man replied with a smile, “there are more flats available than worries in a man’s heart!”

  “I’m really looking for a vacant room.”

  “In a pension?”

  “I’d prefer a family!” Isa replied with a wink.

  The man smiled and relaxed a little. “There are more families around too than worries in a man’s heart!”

  Isa laughed happily. Then he had a thought and pointed toward Riri’s place. “What about the proprietress of Take It and Thanks?”

  The man’s expr
ession changed. “No, no!” he replied earnestly. “She’s a proper woman in every sense of the word.”

  Isa looked at him in a way that seemed to be telling him to continue.

  “Don’t waste your time,” the man said. “I’ve nothing to do with her.”

  “You don’t understand me,” Isa replied. “One look at her is enough to confirm what you’re saying. She has a lovely little girl.”

  “Yes, Ni’mat. She’s her daughter and she’s legitimate too!”

  Isa smiled, trying to look unconcerned. “But you never see her father,” he said. “Isn’t she married?”

  “Of course. Her husband owns the place.”

  “Why doesn’t he run it himself?”

  “He’s in prison,” the man replied after a moment’s hesitation.

  “What for?”

  “Drugs! He’s been done an injustice, I swear by God.”

  “May the good Lord release him! But are you sure he’s the child’s father?”

  A cautious look flashed across the man’s eyes. “Of course!” he replied.

  “No, no!” Isa said with a brash confidence. “Either you know the truth and refuse to admit it,” he continued with a laugh, “or else I know more than you do.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I’d like to hear it from you. Otherwise, how can we do any business with one another if you start off by lying to me?”

  The bootblack put polish on Isa’s shoes. “They say,” he replied with resignation, “that the good man wrote his name on the birth certificate!”

  “But why?”

  “He’s old and a good man. He had no children and loved the woman. So he married her in the proper way!”

  “A good man indeed,” Isa replied, finding it hard to swallow his saliva. “He doesn’t deserve to be in prison.”

  “That’s why she keeps the place going and waits for him patiently and loyally.”

  “He deserves that and more,” said Isa. He gave the man ten piasters and wished him well for the future.

  After midnight he waited under the lamp. She spotted him as she was approaching, frowned angrily, and moved away from where he was standing.

  “I’ve been waiting,” he pleaded. “It’s been agony for me. We must talk.”

  She walked on without answering, and so he stood in her way. “She’s my daughter,” he said. “At least tell me that.”

  “I’ll yell for the police,” she said angrily.

  “She’s my daughter! I know the whole truth.”

  “I’ll yell for the police. Aren’t you listening?”

  “You should yell mercy and forgiveness instead.”

  She cowed him with a flood of abuse. “Hellfire’s what you deserve,” she retorted, “not forgiveness.”

  “Let’s look for a way to forget the past.”

  “I’ve forgotten it entirely. Now you disappear with it!”

  “Listen, Riri. You’re waiting in vain. You’ll get your freedom and then…”

  “What lousy wretch you are!” she interrupted furiously. “Just as you always were. Can’t you ever imagine anything good?”

  He screwed up his face in pain. “It really has been agony for me,” he groaned.

  “Your agonies are no business of mine,” she replied bitterly.

  “She’s my daughter. She’s got nothing to do with that man in prison.”

  Riri looked at him aghast but soon recovered her composure. “She’s his daughter,” she replied. “He adopted her because of his own ideas about what’s right. She belongs to him forever and so do I.”

  He screwed up his face even more.

  “Just make sure you don’t meet me again after this,” she said threateningly. “I’m warning you…”

  “You’re closing the door of mercy, Riri.”

  “You closed it yourself. So get lost.”

  “But my daughter…” he said tearfully.

  “You’re not a father,” she retorted as she rushed on her way. “You’re a coward; you could never be a father!”

  THIRTY-ONE

  He stood there hiding behind the side of a cabin on the beach at Camp Cesare, stealing furtive looks at them. Riri was sitting under an umbrella with her arms folded, and little Ni’mat was bending over the sand a few yards away, eagerly digging a pit. It was a clear morning, and the sun covered the meager gathering of people scattered over the beach; it was a gentle, kindly sun, brightened by an invigorating breeze. He kept out of her sight, so much so that no one would have realized he had come. His heart melted as he looked at the little girl and he wanted to kiss her and then disappear forever. Her body was tiny but well formed, a woman’s shape in miniature. Her tanned legs, her thighs, her long hair wet at the ends, her uncovered sides, her orange bathing costume, and her total involvement in what she was doing, it was all incredible and marvelous; and she was really happy. There she was, the fruit of boredom on his part and fear on the part of her mother; and yet, from these two reprehensible qualities, life had created an attractive being, overflowing with health and happiness. The hidden power’s will had decreed, and all obstacles had collapsed in the face of the eternal enigmatic awakening. This little girl was a sure sign of the idiocy of many fears, a token of nature showing us how it is possible to overcome corruption. Now, he thought, can’t you imitate nature, just once? From your sorrows, losses, and defeats, can’t you make a victory, even if it’s just a modest one? It’s nothing rare or new. The sea has kept its appearance for millions of years and seen countless examples of it, and so has the clear blue sky.

  Finally he left his hiding place and moved toward the little girl without worrying about Riri, who was standing up to face him. He sank down on the sand beside the little girl. He was alarmed by the suddenness of it all, but even so he planted a long, warm kiss on her cheek. Then he muttered, “Farewell,” and left without turning back.

  When lunchtime came, he did not feel like going home, and so he ate at ’Ala Kaifak. At three o’clock, he went to the cinema and then at six to another one. Afterwards he went back to ’Ala Kaifak to have dinner and drink some cognac. He sat there for a long time; the wine seeped into his head and made him feel drunk. He felt comforted by the view and by his own dreams.

  Just before midnight, he saw someone coming toward the restaurant who attracted his attention like an electric shock. It was a tall, muscular, dark young man, wearing gray trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt and carrying a red rose between the fingers of his left hand. He came up close to the restaurant with a strong, graceful stride. There was a bold, piercing look in his eyes and they exchanged glances as he entered the place. He stared at Isa intently, and Isa realized that he recognized him. Then with something akin to a smile the man averted his face with its elongated features, and went to the fruit juice corner.

  It was he and no one else. From the war days. One night, he had arrested this young man, and until dawn he had attended the inquest himself in his official and party capacity. The young man had been bold and stubborn, and the inquest had not found him guilty. He had been sent to prison anyway and had stayed there till the ministry had resigned. What could he be doing now? Had he secured a senior position in the new regime? Or was he still a revolutionary? Why had he smiled? It was quite clear that he remembered him; should he expect some sudden act of violence? He decided to put the man out of his mind, but some irresistible impulse made him turn toward the fruit juice corner. He saw the man standing there facing toward the inside of the place; he was holding a glass of mango juice in his right hand and looking inquisitively in his direction. His eyes seemed to smile sarcastically. Isa looked outside again; he felt utterly depressed. It was as though, with that look, the past were pursuing him.

  Before long he got up and left the place. He headed straight for the Corniche. It did not occur to him to go home; indeed it seemed to him that he no longer had any home at all. After walking a considerable way, he headed toward the square and sat on a bench under Saad Zaghlul’s sta
tue. Most of the benches were empty. The cold breeze blew gently around the wide square and toyed with the palm trees. The stars were shining in the enormous vault above him, and the night was as fixed as eternity itself. He had not yet succeeded in erasing the memory of the young man from his mind, but he resolved to devise a plan for the future. However, he had hardly buried himself in his own dreams when he was aware of someone sitting by his side. He looked around with a suppressed feeling of annoyance and saw the defiant young man. He started in alarm, thinking that he must have followed him every step of the way and was planning to do him harm. He sprang up to defend himself but at the same time felt ashamed at the thought of slinking away. Just then, the young man spoke to him in a throaty voice. “Good evening, Ustaz46 Isa,” he said kindly, “or rather, good morning; it’s a few minutes past midnight.”

  Isa looked at him coldly in the gleam of a distant light. “Good morning,” he replied. “Who are you?”

  “You remember me, of course!”

  “I’m very sorry,” said Isa, feigning amazement, “who are you?”

  The young man laughed as if to say, “You know, and so do I!” “Enemies are the very last people you forget!” he said.

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”