Read Online Cairo Modern by Naguib Mahfouz - Free Book Online Page A

window, he saw part of a garden that was filled with nature’s fragrant beauties. How would the bey receive him? Would his wife invite him in so she could see what had become of the boy now that he wasgrown? Would they remember the time in al-Qanatir and ask affectionately about their old friend Abd al-Da’im Effendi? Would they be moved by his illness and discern the motive that had induced Mahgub to knock on their door and then extend a helping hand to him out of their good will? What a fine room! Wasn’t it possible that he might own such a mansion that needy people would seek out?
    Hearing footsteps, he looked toward the door. Then he saw the bey, whom he recognized at first glance, although his appearance had changed and he was older. As the bey approached, he rose and advanced toward him politely, extending his hand. They shook hands, and the bey scrutinized him. Then, smiling, the bey said, “So it’s you! I didn’t recognize the name at first, but then my memory came to my aid. Now you’re a man. How are your parents?”
    I didn’t recognize the name at first! So it’s you!
    Mahgub overlooked all that and replied respectfully, “My mother’s fine, but my father’s ill. In fact, his condition is serious.”
    Then they sat down. The bey was wearing an overcoat. So it seemed he was preparing to leave the house. Leaning back in his chair, the man said, “I hope he’ll recover. What’s the matter?”
    Mahgub said carefully and clearly, “My father had a stroke that has left him paralyzed in bed. He’s had to quit his job and things are rough.”
    His hopes rested on this final phrase: things are rough. He stole a glance at the bey just after speaking but noticed no impact. Without any alteration in his glacial expression, the bey said, “That’s too bad. I hope you’ll give him my greetings. How about you, Mahgub—have you finished your studies?”
    This change of topic infuriated him, and the speaker’scoldness enraged him, but he felt obliged to answer, “My final-year exam is this May.”
    “Excellent … congratulations in advance.”
    Then he rose, saying, “I’m so sorry to leave you now, but I have an important appointment.”
    Full of despair and rage, the young man stood up, inwardly cursing a meeting that had lasted less than two minutes after a separation of fifteen years. Didn’t the bey grasp the motive that had led him to his mansion? Hadn’t the phrase “things are rough” suggested his reason for coming? With intense anxiety he followed the bey outside. He could grasp the bey’s arm and yell at him, “I’m destitute and need your help. Give me a hand!” He was ready to spring into action, risking everything, when he saw a young woman and an adolescent boy calmly mounting the steps nearby. His resolve collapsed, and his look honed in on the approaching pair. He recognized Tahiya at first glance, in spite of the big difference between the beautiful image in front of him and the one in his memory. From the resemblance between her and the teenage boy he realized that this was her brother. He forgot his resolve and was aware both of floating in suspended animation and of his pride. The bey smiled at his children. Gesturing toward Mahgub, he said, “Mr. Mahgub, my relative … Tahiya, my daughter and her brother Fadil.”
    They shook hands. Smiling, Mahgub said, “I remember them clearly.”
    The bey, who was moving toward the automobile that awaited him, said, “In that case, stay and visit with them.”
    Should he? They exchanged curious, smiling glances. Fadil was a handsome youth of noble appearance. Mahgub hated him at first glance for his elegance, good looks, and nobility. Tahiya was an extraordinarily beautiful girl. IhsanShihata’s beauty might be more captivating, but Tahiya was a perfect model of elegance and pride, a living paragon of the aristocracy. She quickly dazzled his senses and he immediately discovered in her a vital symbol for the high society life to