When he’d asked her father for her hand he’d had only the vaguest picture in his mind of what she actually looked like. But he’d found her to be a real gem and had fallen in love with her with all his heart. He was in the process of choosing the appropriate words to express his new feelings to his mother when Umm Shalabi came in to announce that his cousin Hasan had come to pay him a visit. Still nursing defeat, Isa felt unready for this particular caller, and so it was annoyance that predominated over his other feelings.

Hasan Ali ad-Dabbagh came in beaming. Of medium height, well built, with a square face and deep-lined features, he had a broad chin, and his clear intelligent eyes and sharp-pointed nose were very distinctive. He kissed his aunt’s hand, shook Isa’s warmly without managing to lessen the latter’s feelings of annoyance, then sat down beside him and asked for some tea. He was almost the same age as Isa but was still in the fifth grade, whereas politics had managed to push Isa up to the second. Though he had a bachelor’s degree in commerce, the only work he’d been able to find was with the draft board.

“How are you?” Isa’s mother asked.

“I’m fine,” Hasan replied, “and my mother and sister are well too.”

Isa felt even more uncomfortable at the mention of his sister; not because he disliked her but because she was the sister of this old rival of his. They’d been competitors, in close contact, and had once harbored harsh and painful sentiments against each other. It was only politics that had put an end to the causes of this contentiousness between the two of them: politics had raised Isa to his important position, while merely nudging Hasan on in slow stages down a long, arduous road. Their relationship had flagged somewhat, but feelings ran very deep, and Hasan had never cut himself off from his cousin completely. Hasan even wanted Isa to marry his sister and, amazingly enough, had let it be known that he seriously contemplated going to see Ali Bey Sulaiman to ask for his daughter’s hand only a few days after Isa had done so himself. Isa had laughed in scorn when he’d heard the news and told himself that God should have some mercy on a man who knows his own worth. Nevertheless, even though he disliked Hasan, Isa still reserved a certain admiration for him on account of his strong personality and considerable intelligence.

“I heard you’ve been transferred to the archives,” Hasan said. “Don’t worry,” he continued generously, “you’re someone who was made to stand up to hardships.”