Although skeptical and dubious about Isma'il's claims, Kamal found himself unintentionally reflecting on the vice of stinginess. He classified it into two types. One was despicable, but the other was a wise policy providing an excellent foundation for a person's financial life. To term systematic care in spending stinginess or a vice would be an extravagant exaggeration. Why not proceed in this manner, since it was compatible with the erection of palaces, the acquisition of automobiles, and the display of prestigious luxuries? Why worry when it applied to noble souls cleansed of all wickedness and baseness?
Kamal was roused from his reflections by Isma'il Latif's hand, which grasped his arm and shook it. Then he heard Isma'il tell Hasan Salim, “Watch out! Here's the Wafd Party representative. He'll answer you.”
Kamal realized at once that they had begun discussing politics while he was daydreaming. Political discussion… how tiresome and yet how pleasant it was. Isma'il called him the Wafd Party representative. Perhapshe was being sarcastic. So let him make fun of anything he wanted. Kamal had imbibed the nationalist ideology of the Wafd Party from Fahmy, and in hisheart it was associated with his brother's sacrifice and death as a martyr.
He looked at Hasan Salim and said with a smile, “My friend, since you are dazzled by nothing save true majesty, what have you said about Sa'd Zaghlul?”
Hasan Salim gave no sign of interest in discussing majesty. Kamal had not expected any other reaction. For a long time he had struggled with his friend only to be rebuffed by Hasan's - and perhaps also his father the superior court justice's stubborn and arrogant view of Sa'd Zaghlul, whom Kamal almost venerated.
In Hasan Salim's opinion, Sa'd was nothing but a populist agitator. Hasan repeated this characterization with provocative disdain and scorn, which were at odds with his normal gentle courtesy. He made fun of Sa'd Zaghlul's policies and rhetorical flourishes. He extolled the majesty of Adli, Tharwat, Muhammad Mahmud, and other members of the Liberal Constitutionalist group, who, in Kamal's eyes, were traitors or Englishmen in fezzes.
Hasan Salim answered calmly, “We were discussing the negotiations, which lasted only three days before being halted.”
Kamal said enthusiastically, “That was a patriotic stance truly worthy of Sa'd. Since the demand for our national rights was not negotiable, it became necessary to terminate the negotiations. And Sa'd pronounced his immortal words: 'We were invited here to commit suicide, but we refused. This is all that happened.'”
Finding politics a fit topic for banter, Isma'il Latif observed, “If he had agreed to commit suicide, his life would have been crowned with the most exalted service he could have rendered his country.”
Hasan Salim waited for Isma'il and Husayn to stop laughing before he said, “How have we benefited from this bon mot? Patriotism is nothing for Sa'd but a rhetorical device to seduce the masses. ‘We were invited here to commit suicide,’ and so on and so forth. like to speak the truth,' and so on. … Words and more words. There are men who say nothing but work silently. They are the ones who achieved the only boon the nation has won in recent history.”
Anger flared up in Kamal'sheart, and he would have exploded had he not been restrained by his respect for Hasan and for his age. Kamal was amazed that a young man like Hasan should follow the deviant political views of his father, a member of the old guard.
“You belittle the importance of words, as though they had none. But in fact the most significant and noteworthy events of human history can ultimately be traced back to some statement. The grand phrase contains hope, power, and truth. We proceed through life by the light of words. And Sa'd Zaghlul is not merely a wordsmith. His record is full of achievements and stands.”
Husayn Shaddad ran his long thin fingers through his black hair as he said, “Leaving Sa'd out of it, I agree with what you said about the value of language.”
Hasan paid no attention to Husayn Shaddad's interjection. Addressing Kamal, he remarked, “Nations survive and advance with brains, wise policies, and manpower not through speeches and cheap populist agitation.”
Isma'il Latif looked at Husayn Shaddad and asked sarcastically, “Don't you think a man who wears himself out talking about the betterment of this country is like a person attempting to inflate a punctured balloon?”
Kamal turned to Isma'il in order to address Hasan indirectly and to tell him thingshe would otherwise be reluctant to say. Venting his wrath, Kamal said, “Politics means nothing to you, but occasionally your jokes express so clearly the viewpoint of a faction who claim to be Egyptians that you could be their spokesman. They express their despair that the nation will ever progress, but it stems from contemptuous snobbery, not from a zealous ambition for reform. If politics were not an expedient way of satisfying their greed, they would shun it, like you.”
Husayn Shaddad laughed pleasantly. He put his hand on Kamal's arm and squeezed it, saying, “You're a stubborn debater. I like your enthusiasm, even if I don't share your faith in politics. You know I'm uncommitted politically. I don't belong to the Wafd Party or the Constitutionalists, not because I scorn them like Isma'il Latif, but because I'm convinced that politics corrupts the mind and heart. You have to rise above it before life can appear to you as an endless opportunity for wisdom, beauty, and tolerance instead of an arena for combat and deceit.”
Kamal was reassured to hear Husayn speak out, and his fury abated. He was ecstatic whenever Husayn agreed with him and broad-minded whenever they disagreed. Even so, he felt that Husayn's defense of political neutrality was nothing more than an excuse for his lack of patriotism. Kamal had never resented that in his friend or regarded it as a failing, although he did with Isma'il. If Kamal ever thought of it as a shortcoming, his goodwill, forbearance, and tolerance allowed him to overlook it.
Picking up on Husayn's ideas, Kamal said, “Life is all ofthat. It's composed of struggle, deceit, wisdom, and beauty. Whenever you neglect one aspect, you lose an opportunity to perfect your understanding of it as well as your ability to influence it in a positive way. Never scorn politics. It's half of life, or the whole of life if you consider wisdom and beauty to be above life.”
As though by way of apology, Husayn Shaddad answered, “So far as politics is concerned, I'll tell you frankly that I don't trust any of those men.”
Kamal asked him almost cajolingly, “What made you lose confidence in Sa'd Zaghlul?”
“No, let me ask what should make me trust him? Sa'd or Adli, Adli or Sa'd, how silly it all is___Yet even though Sa'd and Adli are equivalent for me politically, I can't say the same of them as men. I can't ignore Adli's distinguished family lineage, prestige, and culture. Sa'd - don't get angry - is nothing but a former seminarian from al-Azhar.”
Oh, how it hurt Kamal whenever his friend let slip some hint of his sense of superiority over the Egyptian people. Kamal was extremely sad, for it seemed that Husayn felt superior to him or - and this was even more devastating and bitter - that his words reflected the feelings of the whole family. Yes, when Husayn talked to Kamal, he left his friend with the impression that he was talking about a people to which neither of them belonged. Was that caused by an error of perception on Husayn's part or was it flattery? Strangely enough, this attitude of Husayn's did not anger Kamal in its general implications nearly so much as it saddened him because of what it implied specifically about Kamal. It did not excite a feeling of class hostility or patriotism in him, for these emotions were put to flight by his friend's guileless grin, which revealed his sincerity and benevolence. They were decisively routed by a love uninfluenced by opinions or events.
Despite their friendship, Hasan Salim's attitude toward the common people enraged Kamal's sense of patriotism, even though Hasan's aloofness and haughtiness were no more pronounced than Husayn Shaddad's. Not even Hasan's polite manner of speaking or his reserve in expressing his feelings mediated for him. with Kamal, who considered them a form of cleverness serving to double his friend's responsibility and to reinforce his solidarity with the aristoc
racy in opposition to the people.
Addressing Husayn, Kamal asked, “Do I need to remind you that true majesty is not determined by whether a person wears a turban or a fez and is poor or rich? It seems to me that politics occasionally forces us to debate self-evident truths.”
Isma'il Latif commented, “What I admire in Wafdists like Kamal is their intense partisan spirit”. Then, looking around at his friends, he continued: “And what I despise about them is also their party loyalty.”
Laughing, Husayn Shaddad said, “You're lucky. No matter what political opinion you advance, no critic can ever object to it.”
Then Hasan Salim asked Husayn Shaddad, “You claim you're above politics. Do you insist on that even with regard to the former Khedive?”
Their eyes were directed toward Husayn with cheerful defiance, since his father's support for the former Khedive, Abbas Hilmi II, was well known and since it was for this reason that he had spent several years in exile in Paris. But Husayn said nonchalantly, “These matters are no concern of mine at all. My father was and still is a supporter of the Khedive. I'm not required to embrace his views.”
His eyes sparkling with amusement, Isma'il Latif asked, “Was your father one of those who shouted, 'God lives! Abbas arrives'?”
Husayn Shaddad said with a laugh, “I've never heard about this, except from you. The indubitable truth is that there was nothing between my father and the Khedive beyond friendship and loyalty. Besides, as you all know, there's not a single party calling for the return of the Khedive today.”
Hasan Salim said, “The man and his era have become part of history. The present situation can be put in these few words: Sa'd Zaghlul refuses to allow anyone else, no matter how fine or wise, to speak in the name of Egypt.”
Immediately after receiving this blow, Kamal retorted, “The present situation can be summed up in even fewer words: No one in Egypt is able to speak for her except Sa'd. The people's support for him is great enough to achieve our goals in the end.”
Kamal folded his arms across his chest and stretched out his legs until the tip of his shoe touched the table leg. He was planning to continue his remarks, but they heard someone close behind them ask, “Budur, don't you want to say hello to your old friends?”
Kamal's tongue was paralyzed. Hisheart leapt so violently that it shook his chest in a fashion that initially alarmed and almost hurt him. Then, quicker than a flash of lightning, an overwhelming and intoxicating happiness took hold of him. The effect on him was so great that he almost had to close his eyes. He discovered that every notion t'ulsing through his soul was directed heavenward. He rose with the others and turned around. He saw A'ida standing a step away from the gazebo, holding the hand of Budur, her little sister, who was three years old. The girls were looking at them with calm smiling eyes. After a wait of three months or more, here she was. Here was the original of the portrait that filled his spirit and body during his waking and sleeping moments. Here she was, standing before him, bearing witness to the fact that the limitless pain, the indescribable happiness, the searing periods of wakefulness, and the dreams spinning him through the skies could, in the final analysis, all be traced back to a charming human being whose feet left prints in the garden. He gazed at her, and her personal magnetism attracted his emotions so totally that he lost all sense of time, place, people, and self. He was once more reduced to a spirit swimming through the void toward his beloved. He perceived her more with his spirit than his senses in an enchanting intoxication, a musical rapture, and a lofty splendor. His sight grew weak and feeble. The force of his spiritual reaction seemed to have affected all his vital functions. Thus his senses and his faculties were transported to a semiconscious state approaching annihilation. Therefore, his beloved was more easily observed in his memory than in real life. When he was in her presence, he could scarcely see anything. Later she would appear to his memory with her slender figure, bronze face as beautiful as the moon, and thick black hair cut in a boyish bob, the bangs coming down over her forehead like the teeth of a comb. In her dark eyes there was a look as tranquil, gentle, and majestic as the dawn. He saw this picture in his memory, not with his senses. It was like a magical melody that so absorbs us when we hear it that we are unable to recall anything about it, until it comes back to us as a happy surprise in the first instants when we awake or during a moment of contentment. Then it reverberates deep within our consciousness in a perfectly harmonious manner.
Kama I hopefully wondered whether she would change her usual procedure and shake hands with them. Then he would feel her touch, if only for that one time in his whole life. But she greeted them with a smile and a nod of her head.
In her voice, which by comparison made even the most beloved melodies seem worthless, she asked, “How are all of you?”
They vied with each other to greet and thank her and congratulate her on her safe return.
Then, her slender fingers toying with Budur's hair, she told the girl, “Shake hands with your friends.”
Budur sucked in her lips and bit them as she looked around shyly. Then she fixed her eyes on Kamal, and they both smiled. Knowing of the affection between them, Husayn Shaddad said, “She's smiling at the one she loves.”
“Do you really love this fellow?” A'ida asked. Then, pushing her sister toward the young man, she said, “So greet him.”
Blushing with happiness, Kamal held his hands out to her. She approached him, and he lifted her up. He began to kiss her cheeks with longing and emotion. He was delighted by her love and proud of it. In his arms there was a fragment from the body of the family. When he hugged this part of them, he was embracing the whole family. Was it possible for a worshipper to contact his beloved without some mediation like this? The strange resemblance between this child and her older sister was nothing short of magical. The person contentedly nestled against his breast seemed A'ida herself at an earlier stage of life. Once she had been as young, small, and generous with her affections as Budur. “Ponder that,” he advised himself.
Let him rejoice in this pure love. Let him find happiness in embracing a body she embraced and in kissing a cheek she kissed. Let him dream until his mind and heart were transported. He knew why he loved Budur, Husayn, the mansion with its garden and servants. He loved them all for A'ida's sake. What he did not understand was his love for A'ida.
Looking back and forth from Hasan Salim to Isma'il Latif, A'ida asked, “How was Alexandria?”
Hasan replied, “Splendid!”
Then Isma'il asked, “What makes you always want to go to Ra's al-Barr?”
In a pleasant voice with a musical ring, she answered, “We've spent several summers in Alexandria, but the only resort we really enjoy is Ra's al-Barr. The one other place as calm, unpretentious, and congenial is your own home.”
Laughing, Isma'il said, “Unfortunately we don't care for calm.”
How happy this scene made Kamal… and this conversation and this voice. “Think about it,” he advised himself. “Isn't this happiness? A butterfly, like the dawn breeze, saturated in delightful colors, sipping the nectar of the flowers … that's what I am”. If only this moment could last forever.
Aida said, “We had an enjoyable trip. Hasn't Husayn told you about it?”
In a disapproving tone Husayn said, “No, they've been arguing about politics.”
She turned toward Kamal to say, “Here's someone who wants to talk about nothing else.”
“Her attention comes to you as a grace,” Kamal reflected. “Her look's so pure it reveals her angelic spirit. I'm revived by it like a sun worshipper soaking up radiant light. If only this moment would last forever.”
“I wasn't responsible for initiating the discussion today.”
Smiling, she said, “But you seized the opportunity….”
He grinned in surrender. Then she turned her eyes on Budur and cried out, “Are you planning to fall asleep in his arms? That's enough greeting for you.”
Budur was embarrassed and b
uried her head against his chest. He started stroking her back fondly.
But Aida threatened: “Then I'll leave you and go back alone.”
Budur lifted her head and held out her hand to her sister, mumbling, “No”. Kamal kissed her and set her on the ground. She ran to Aida and grasped her hand. Aida looked at each of them in turn, waved goodbye, and went back the way she had come. They resumed their seats and continued their conversation.
A'ida's visits to the gazebo in the garden were like this. They were brief, happy surprises, but Kamal appeared content. He felt that his patience during the long summer months had not been in vain. Why did not people commit suicide to attempt to hold on to happiness just as they killed themselves to escape from suffering?
“It's not necessary for you to travel around the world like Husayn if you wish to find pleasure for your senses, intellect, and spirit. It's possible for you to acquire all of those in a fleeting moment without stirring. How does a human being obtain the power to effect all this? What's happened to the political feud, the heated debate, the furious quarrel, and the class conflict? They've melted away and vanished at a look from your eyes, O beloved. What distinguishes dream from reality? I wonder which of them Im roaming through now.”
“Soccer season starts soon.”
“Last season belonged to the Ahli team. They were unrivaled.”
“The Mukhtalat team was defeated, but it's got some outstanding players.”
Kamal sprang to the defense of Mukhtalat much as he defended Sa'd Zaghlul to block the attacks of Hasan Salim. All four of them played soccer, but they differed in their skill and enthusiasm. Isma'il was by far the best and stood out among them like a professional playing with amateurs. Husayn Shaddad was the weakest player. Kamal and Hasan were in the middle. The exchange between Kamal and Hasan heated up. The former attributed Mukhtalat's defeat to bad luck, the latter thought it showed the superiority of Ahli's new players. The controversy continued, since neither of them would give in.
Kamal wondered why he always found himself on the other side from Hasan Salim, whether they were discussing the Wafd Party and the Liberals or the Mukhtalat team and Ahli. Among musicians Kamal preferred Hijazi, but Hasan liked Mukhtar. In cinema, the former enjoyed Charlie Chaplin, while the latter favored the dapper French comedian Max Linder.