Read Online The Seventh Heaven by Naguib Mahfouz - Free Book Online
Authors: Naguib Mahfouz
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you,” he fretted.
“I’m just surprised,” she said tremblingly.
“Please don’t hate me,” he begged.
“You’re just a normal person,” she said shyly.
He continued sipping his coffee while drinking in glances he stole at Rashida. Then he laughed nervously, “I’m not frightening like my father!”
“I’m sure of that,” she said.
“Really?”
“That’s very clear—and the truth is, I’m innocent,” she declared.
“And I’m sure of that,” Anous affirmed. After a moment, he added, “But there is something that perplexes me.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Why haven’t you married?” he asked.
She stared in the distance for a while, then answered, “I have refused more than one proposal.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because of your love for the other man?”
“But that has been forgotten, like everything else.”
“There must be a reason,” he pressed her.
“The loss of my virginity was no small matter,” she said. “Perhaps I have despaired of making anyone happy.”
“That’s a very regrettable thing,” he said.
“Maybe it was meant to be,” she said resignedly.
She’s still a ravishing woman!
On his way home, Anous felt he was floating through an ethereal atmosphere. He loathed the duty that took him away from the house at 15 al-Durri Street in Imbaba.
It’s true, I have fallen in love with Rashida.
19
Estrangement fell like a forbidding barrier between father and son. The mother was saddened to the point of death. The house became downcast, as oppressive as a rat’s nest. Should he seek a transfer to one of the provinces? And what about Imbaba? What would happen if his father knew the passions burning in his breast? An unexpected thought occurred to him: he had been born as a punishment for his father. If not, why had he declared a secret war upon him from his earliest awareness of his surroundings? What a father deserving of absolute rejection, a sad and regretful situation—especially as I love the man totally. Though beastly and crude to the outside world, he is mild and kind inside his own home. He cannot picture his own perversity, believing instead that he is only exercising his natural right—the right of the smart and the strong. His greed for money and power knows no limits. As accustomed to committing crime as to saying good morning, he is solicitous to his supporters, generous to the point of profligacy. But when it comes to the common laborers, whose money he steals and whose food he hoards, Qadri scorns them all—without mercy. One day Anous will detest him so much that he will even deny the man is his father. Even more calamitous than this, the Boss has stamped Anous’ mother with his character, for she worships his power. Every time he commits some outrage, she falls into raptures of adoration. Truly, he—Anous—dwells in the lion’s den, in the temple of might and sin.
As things became more and more complicated, provocativesituations emerged. He arrested his father’s supporters as they were pilfering the money of the bakery’s employees. No sooner had he locked them up—for the first time in the
hara’s
history—than a torrent of giddy joy exploded in the alley, stirring a volcano in the house of Boss Qadri the Butcher. No longer able to remain, Anous decided to go. His mother’s torso shook as she wept.
“He is the Devil himself,” she cried.
Anous kissed her forehead and left. He rented a small apartment in Imbaba, telling himself that putting an end to the activities of his father’s supporters would do the same to his malignant powers. Qadri would be incapable of doing any more harm, and the quarter would slip from his hellish grip. He appealed to God, if only he could arrest his father in the very act of perpetrating a crime directly. Yet it appears that Qadri had resolved to meet the challenge with a similar one before his whole edifice collapsed—for on the same night a battle broke out between
“I’m just surprised,” she said tremblingly.
“Please don’t hate me,” he begged.
“You’re just a normal person,” she said shyly.
He continued sipping his coffee while drinking in glances he stole at Rashida. Then he laughed nervously, “I’m not frightening like my father!”
“I’m sure of that,” she said.
“Really?”
“That’s very clear—and the truth is, I’m innocent,” she declared.
“And I’m sure of that,” Anous affirmed. After a moment, he added, “But there is something that perplexes me.”
She looked at him questioningly.
“Why haven’t you married?” he asked.
She stared in the distance for a while, then answered, “I have refused more than one proposal.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because of your love for the other man?”
“But that has been forgotten, like everything else.”
“There must be a reason,” he pressed her.
“The loss of my virginity was no small matter,” she said. “Perhaps I have despaired of making anyone happy.”
“That’s a very regrettable thing,” he said.
“Maybe it was meant to be,” she said resignedly.
She’s still a ravishing woman!
On his way home, Anous felt he was floating through an ethereal atmosphere. He loathed the duty that took him away from the house at 15 al-Durri Street in Imbaba.
It’s true, I have fallen in love with Rashida.
19
Estrangement fell like a forbidding barrier between father and son. The mother was saddened to the point of death. The house became downcast, as oppressive as a rat’s nest. Should he seek a transfer to one of the provinces? And what about Imbaba? What would happen if his father knew the passions burning in his breast? An unexpected thought occurred to him: he had been born as a punishment for his father. If not, why had he declared a secret war upon him from his earliest awareness of his surroundings? What a father deserving of absolute rejection, a sad and regretful situation—especially as I love the man totally. Though beastly and crude to the outside world, he is mild and kind inside his own home. He cannot picture his own perversity, believing instead that he is only exercising his natural right—the right of the smart and the strong. His greed for money and power knows no limits. As accustomed to committing crime as to saying good morning, he is solicitous to his supporters, generous to the point of profligacy. But when it comes to the common laborers, whose money he steals and whose food he hoards, Qadri scorns them all—without mercy. One day Anous will detest him so much that he will even deny the man is his father. Even more calamitous than this, the Boss has stamped Anous’ mother with his character, for she worships his power. Every time he commits some outrage, she falls into raptures of adoration. Truly, he—Anous—dwells in the lion’s den, in the temple of might and sin.
As things became more and more complicated, provocativesituations emerged. He arrested his father’s supporters as they were pilfering the money of the bakery’s employees. No sooner had he locked them up—for the first time in the
hara’s
history—than a torrent of giddy joy exploded in the alley, stirring a volcano in the house of Boss Qadri the Butcher. No longer able to remain, Anous decided to go. His mother’s torso shook as she wept.
“He is the Devil himself,” she cried.
Anous kissed her forehead and left. He rented a small apartment in Imbaba, telling himself that putting an end to the activities of his father’s supporters would do the same to his malignant powers. Qadri would be incapable of doing any more harm, and the quarter would slip from his hellish grip. He appealed to God, if only he could arrest his father in the very act of perpetrating a crime directly. Yet it appears that Qadri had resolved to meet the challenge with a similar one before his whole edifice collapsed—for on the same night a battle broke out between
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