The Beggar, the Thief and the Dogs, Autumn Quail (33 page)

           

T
he two of them traveled to Alexandria alone, and her mother stayed on in Ra's al-Barr. They lived in the Louvre Hotel for a few days till Isa found a flat in Sidi Gaber on the seventh floor of a building overlooking the sea. The summer season was almost over; there was less noise to be heard from young people now, and the skies were welcoming masses of white clouds. The weather was conducive to peace and contemplation. Qadriyya seemed to be really happy even though she felt unwell. She stuck to her diet in spite of her fondness for food. If it took off some of her weight, she said, then so much the better. Isa grew fond of walking and avoided eating fatty foods as much as possible so that he could regain his slim appearance. They both agreed that he would start work as soon as he returned to Cairo. He had decided to open an office, although the idea did not seem to fill him with a great deal of pleasure. “I'd really like some other kind of life,” he said.

She stared inquiringly into his face with her huge, cowlike eyes.

“Don't get worried,” he resumed hurriedly. “That's just a dream. I'd like to live in the country, far away from Cairo; I'd only like to see it on special occasions. I'd like to spend the day working in the fields and the night on a balcony looking out on space and silence.”

“But we've no connections with the countryside,” she said in alarm.

“It's just a dream.”

Days went by, and he felt exasperated. All he got from the almost deserted beaches was a lonely feeling, especially since Qadriyya preferred to stay in the house most of the time because of her health. He used to walk till his feet felt tired; when he sat down, it would be in the Gleem Paradise, where he could hang on to his memories. His own era was over, he told himself, and he wouldn't be able to merge into the same kind of life as he had had before. Here he was, tied to a woman in order to steal from her, not love her. He wondered when the world was going to be wiped out, and whether there wasn't some other kind of ideas which might give his heart some life again.

He found a palm reader in Indian dress standing in front of him, looking at him with gleaming eyes. He was sitting in his usual place in the Paradise. He stretched out his hand, and the man brought over a seat and sat down in front of him. He started concentrating immediately on the lines of his palm, while Isa waited patiently for the voice of the occult with a smile of resignation.

“You'll have a long life,” the man said, “and you'll recover from a serious illness.” He looked at his hand
again. “You'll marry twice,” he continued, “and have children.”

Isa listened with interest. The man continued. “There are many upsets in your life,” he said, “but you've nothing to fear because you have a will of iron. But you, you'll risk being drowned at sea!”

“At sea?”

“That's what your palm says. You're an ambitious man without any consideration for others. You'll always find an abundant means of support, but your nervousness often spoils your peace of mind.”

The man stood up, bending his head in farewell as he did.

“What's the way out?” Isa asked him without thinking as he was about to leave.

The man looked at him inquisitively. Isa scoffed at himself and gave him a thankful gesture.

In the evening, he started walking along the Corniche till he reached Camp Cesare.
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There was a row of cafés and shops which were bunched together on the pavement in a riot of lights, and it was there that his eyes fell on Riri! He stopped dead in his tracks on the Corniche. Fear gripped him as he looked again more carefully. Yes, it was definitely Riri, no one else. She was in a small place which sold ice cream and
ful
¹⁵
and
taamiyya
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sandwiches, and was sitting behind the till on the chair belonging to either the manager or the owner. He rested his back on the seawall at a spot out of the light and scrutinized her face in amazement. When he recalled the way he had behaved, he felt very uncomfortable—he was shocked by how cruel and unpleasant he had been to her. Riri! It was Riri, no one else; but she was no longer a girl. Certainly not! She was a woman now in every sense of the word, and had a personality
of her own—which the waiter who kept moving to and fro with orders between her and the customers obeyed to the full. A serious woman and a real manager. The incredible thing was that he had walked this way for twenty days in succession without looking at this small place. Now he read the name clearly: Take It and Thanks. On the few occasions when he had spent the summer in Alexandria, he had thought of her and been worried about the idea of meeting her either by himself or with his wife and friends. But he had found no sign of her. Eventually he had come to the conclusion that she had left town or maybe the world altogether. How had it come about that she was sitting in that seat? Were five years enough—without a world war—for her to reach this level? Her teacher in Al-Ibrahimiyya would undoubtedly be jealous of the rapid way she had advanced. Her colleagues would never have dreamed of it!

He stood there in the semi-darkness, not taking his eyes off her, and recalled their old relationship which was now forever lost in the recesses of oblivion. The superficiality of human relationships amazed him. Without realizing it, he thought, we're trying out death; we experiment with it time after time during our lives before death finally catches up with us. The whole scene with Riri sitting there in her place looked just like the Saadi Club when he used to walk in front of it, or like the House of Parliament. They were all lives destined to an early death, and the only things to benefit from them would be insects.

A woman in servant's clothes came into the place leading a little girl by the right hand. She went and spoke seriously to Riri. Meanwhile the little girl jumped onto Riri's lap and started playing lovingly and trustingly with the necklace she was wearing. At that moment, Isa had a
thought that made his heart pound so much that it even covered the noise of the sea behind him. His whole body went rigid, and he looked closely at the little girl. He lost all consciousness of what was around him. But no…no! Why was his head spinning like this? What a stupid thought, and terrifying too! The little girl's face was turned toward her mother, so he could not see it. Things would pass quietly, he told himself, and then he would laugh at himself after it was all over. But the earth had already slipped and everything standing had been destroyed. Well, then, he should run, and never come back to Camp Cesare again, never return to Alexandria. He did not budge a single inch from the spot where he was standing. How had these idiotic ideas managed to take him by surprise?

Riri released herself from the little girl, kissed her, and then put her on the ground. The servant took hold of her hand and led her out of the café. She made for a side street that went inland from the shore. Instead of running away, he dashed across the road toward the side street and kept quickening his pace till he almost caught up with the two of them. He could hear the little girl piping up with some unintelligible words, almost all of them unintelligible except for “chocolate”; she sounded just like a chirping sparrow. They stopped in front of a shop on the corner of a cross street which sold sweets and games. He took up a position next to her in the gleaming light, and asked for a box of cigarettes. He began to scrutinize the girl's face with an avid curiosity. Did not her face have a triangular shape to it? And those circular eyes! The features of his mother and three sisters were all mingled in hers; they seemed to come and go. Was it just his imagination? Was it fear? Or was it the truth? He almost collapsed from sheer exhaustion. His heart was pounding fast, sending out continuous
waves of amazement, disgust, panic, grief, longing, and desire for death.

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…”

           

H
e 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.

           

H
e 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 expression 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!”