One morning he went to the Paradise Casino7 in Gleem17 in response to a letter from Samir Abd al-Baqi. He hadn’t seen Samir since coming to Alexandria in the middle of September and hadn’t visited the Paradise Casino since the summer of 1951. There was no one on the beach and the casino itself was almost empty, as was usual during the final days of October. In his period of influence, Isa had gone to the Paradise with an arrogant air, and people would look at him with interest as he made his way between pashas—friends and enemies—to the table reserved for him in that ephemeral world. How could people forget the reception at the Paradise two years ago? The fabulous sound, the all-embracing magnificence of it all and the ringing shouts, and then his own arrival with an entourage to drink, have fun, and while away the evening. All he had seen on the horizon then were hopes that had held the promise of sure success.

He sat in his old place to the right of the inside entrance, among the empty seats. Some old pashas, who were hanging on till the last moment of the summer season, were sitting at scattered tables; two women sat by themselves, one old, the other middle-aged. A dreadful silence hung over the whole place. Isa stole a look at the old woman and told himself that Salwa would meet the same fate one day, going the way of all prestige and power, of all expectation. He took pleasure in looking at the expanse of sea, calm and pure blue, and at the clouds, which looked as though they might be swollen with white rose water.

Samir Abd al-Baqi arrived on time and they embraced warmly. Samir looked even thinner than when he’d seen him last, but he was in better health and his eyes looked clearer. “My wife and I are here visiting her mother,” he said. “We’re going back tomorrow.”

Isa asked about the corner in El Bodega and Samir replied that there was nothing new. “I’ve sold my share in an old house,” he said, “and gone into partnership with an uncle who sells furniture. In fact, I’m his accounts manager and a junior partner.”

Isa congratulated him and told him that he himself had no desire to work at the moment.

“Just look how empty Alexandria is!” Samir said, gazing around.

“The whole world’s empty,” Isa replied. “What’s that you’re holding?”

Samir handed him a book and he read the title Ar-Risalat al-Qushairiyya31 on the cover. Isa looked inquiringly at him.

“Haven’t you heard of mysticism?” Samir asked.

Isa laughed abruptly. “I never knew you were interested in it,” he said.

“I wasn’t, but then I heard Ahmad Pasha Zahran discussing it. He’s given me some books on the subject at various times and recently I’ve found myself looking into them.”