When he left the house, he was sure that he had made a considerable impression on the two women. Qadriyya needs a husband, he thought with a good deal of sorrow, and I need a wife. He decided to make a few of the usual inquiries, which established that she had been married three times, not just once. The first had lasted for only a month. She had been betrothed to a relative of her father’s, and before the marriage was consummated, they had realized that he was after her money and was just taking advantage of her. Her father had forced him to divorce her. The second had lasted for four or five years. Her mother was not prepared to give her daughter any of her money, even though the husband had asked that she should and kept pressing her. She thought that he should be able to take care of his own responsibilities without any help from her, and that these requests were irresponsible and showed some sinister design on his part. The argument had ended in divorce. The third marriage had lasted for six years and seemed likely to last, especially since her mother had changed her policy and gave her enough money and more. But the husband had wanted children, and Qadriyya had given him none; and judging from her previous marriage, probably would never do so. The husband had married again in secret and then told her. This had caused a crisis which could not continue indefinitely and so she was divorced for the third time.

This, then, was Qadriyya’s story. However, Isa did not go into all the details in the corner at El Bodega. “A very presentable woman wants to marry me!” he said.

Their gazes fastened on him like compass needles attracted to a pole.

“She’s from a very respectable and wealthy family,” he said gleefully and with a touch of vanity.

“The last quality you mentioned is the one to look for!” said Abbas Sadiq with his ringing voice, as though he were announcing the news.

“I hope you’ll be very happy,” said Ibrahim Khairat, smiling to hide his jealous feelings. “We should see about repairing the house now that political hurricanes are about to knock it down!”

This bitter comment irritated him. “Particularly as I haven’t got a pen to use to curry favor with my enemies!” he retorted.

They all laughed. He was inundated with questions and began to answer them cautiously until the lies were piling up. He only revealed his real feelings to Samir Abd al-Baqi as they were walking alone together down Sulaiman Pasha Street. He told him the whole, unadulterated truth.

“Aren’t you concerned about having children?” Samir asked.