The sitting room overlooked Sharia Halim in Dokki. The wide window of the balcony was closed as a protection against the cold and behind it willow branches rose and fell limply. Beyond them clouds stretched away into the distance, bunched together, foreboding. Like the political situation. The ministry had been dismissed, and the new minister had removed him from his job, along with many other people, especially anyone who had been connected with the battle at the Canal. But these things had happened so often that his mother had come to regard them as almost normal. She had become quite used to seeing the most disastrous floods followed by a smooth ebb, which always turned out to be in the best interests of her beloved son. Though old and illiterate, she still followed current events closely and kept up with whatever was going on in politics, especially with matters that affected Isa’s life.

She was very proud of him and believed everything he said. His success amazed her—it was so far beyond anything she had ever imagined—it had been beyond the hopes of either her or his late father, who had spent his entire life as an obscure minor civil servant. In spite of the pitfalls and storms of politics, Isa had forged ahead, floundering at times to such an extent that people gave him up for lost, but then always rising again to achieve some new level of seniority. This gorgeous house in Dokki was a sign of his successful ambition, and its furniture was a delight to behold. Pashas and ministers would frequently favor him with visits.

His mother held a rosary from the Hijaz21 in her gnarled hands and used the beads in litanies to God. Would there be an end to this situation, she asked herself, and would everything turn out for the best? Were there complicated factors involved which were difficult to comprehend or was it just that the evil eye had struck?

“It’s incredible,” said Isa listlessly, “that we have hardly settled into the business of running the government for a year before we’re thrown out again for four. We’re the legitimate rulers of this country and there are no others besides us.”

“Health and well-being are the important things,” the old lady said with firm conviction.

He smiled bitterly, but concealed his real feelings. “I think it’s important,” he said, “that I take advantage of this period of retirement to attend to my personal affairs.”

Her dim eyes flickered with interest and for the first time she spoke joyfully: “Oh, I’m delighted. It’s about time you got married. The girl is waiting for you and her father has not withheld his consent.”

“Wouldn’t it be better,” he asked with a laugh, “to get married when I’m enjoying a prestigious position in authority?”