The condolences in the house that night were restricted to members of the family and his three friends. Ali Sulaiman did not come, and Isa avoided going to the harem so as not to see his uncle’s family. Nevertheless, he wondered whether Susan Hanem and Salwa had come. The scene in the room where Samir, Abbas, Ibrahim, and Hasan were sitting with him was almost comical. None of his friends dared to express his political views in front of Hasan, and since the discussion of politics could not be avoided in any gathering, they saw no solution except to be hypocritical. So they started praising the startling historic actions of the revolution, the abolition of the monarchy, the end of feudalism, and the evacuation—especially the evacuation, that age-old dream. Isa contributed only a little to the conversation; he was exhausted and felt empty and sad. He concealed his sarcastic thoughts about the situation by pretending to listen to the Qur’an reciter, who was sitting in the lounge on the third floor. Hasan had become a key figure, he told himself, someone to really reckon with! Wasn’t that laughable? He surrendered to the incredible notion that his mother had not really died, that she was still alive in some way, or that her spirit had not yet left the house. Then he recalled in amazement the old dream of the evacuation and how he had listened to the news of its announcement with a feeling of languid satisfaction mixed with anger merely because it was not his party that had brought it about. He could not help saying, “The fact is that the evacuation is really a fruit of the past!”

None of his friends said a word, but Hasan went to great efforts to prove that this theory was wrong.

“The truth is,” Ibrahim Khairat said, “none of our old revolutions achieved any startling results. Now this revolution has come along to fulfill the missions of the old ones as well as achieve its own particular goals.”

The conversation continued until the house was empty. When Isa went to see Hasan to the door, the latter stopped suddenly and smiled at him fondly. “Your trip was a mistake,” he said. “You should examine your position again.”

Isa smiled. He had not the least inclination to talk.

“Tell me one of your past hopes,” Hasan continued, “which hasn’t been achieved today. You should jump on the train and join the rest of us!”

Isa shook his head enigmatically. They shook hands.

“When you change your mind,” Hasan said, “you’ll find me at your beck and call.”

Isa thanked him gratefully. In fact, he was greatly touched by his kindness, but he refused to think about moving that wall which kept them apart. He often admitted his adversary’s logic and acknowledged his own secret defeat in front of him. But every time he seemed more convinced, he felt a bitter resentment building up inside him.