Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- INTRODUCTION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- NOTES
- Naguib Mahfouz
- BOOKS BY NAGUIB MAHFOUZ
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How much did she really love him? What new betrayals would the days ahead hold for him? A man’s image suddenly intruded into his consciousness and under his breath he cursed the chairman of the Purge Committee. “With a company or else in some private-sector enterprise,” he replied.
The tip of her tongue showed as she moistened her lips, an action so unstudied as to suggest that for a moment she had lost interest in the impression she was making. He was aware of how disappointed she must be. “Let me draw some strength from you,” he said hopefully.
Only her mouth smiled. “I wish you success,” she murmured.
He put his hand over hers on the arm of the chair. “Love,” he said in something close to a whisper, “can scoff at problems like these quite easily.”
“Yes, yes…”
She might have been a little phlegmatic by nature, but she undoubtedly loved him. Overwhelmed by an urge to clasp her, he leaned forward and put an arm around her. She gave him a velvety look, surrendered her body to his arm, and a spark of sudden lust shot out from deep down in his troubled soul. He lowered his eager lips against the softness of hers and released himself to a passionate craving for consolation. But she reached up a hand to stop him, turning her face away to escape from this frenzied onslaught; they drew apart, panting, then sat back in an awful silence, during which each read the thoughts in the other’s eyes, reprimand on her part and apology on his. His voice emerged broken from the confusion. “Salwa,” he said, “I love you. My entire life is embodied in one thing—you.”
She patted his hand sympathetically.
“You should say something,” he said.
She sighed deeply and seemed to regain composure. “We must face up to life,” she said, “and everything in it.”
He heard the sweet melody of her voice with a profound calm. He would have liked them to leave the world and go to some unknown place forever; a place where there were no politics, no jobs, no revolutions, and no past. “Will you give me your trust and encouragement?” he asked, the first signs of cheerfulness in his voice.
“You can have what you want and more,” she replied, dabbing her lips with a handkerchief.
He wanted to embrace her again, but Ali Bey Sulaiman’s voice was heard outside announcing that he was about to come in.