He would contemplate the bare room, smell the incense, notice the insects, imagine the hidden germs, and ask himself: was this accursed corner burning with the flames of hell not part of the kingdom of God? On one occasion there was a thunderstorm and he was incarcerated in the naked room; the lane was deserted, there was no sound and darkness reigned. Qadriyya squatted on the bed while he sat on the bamboo chair. The room was lit by a solitary candle. As time seemed endless, he took a notebook from his pocket in which he had written down some notes from his lectures. He started to read out loud, as was his habit.

“Qur’an?” Qadriyya asked.

He shook his head, smiling.

“Dates with girlfriends?”

“Lectures.”

“So you’re a student? Then why do you wear a mustache?”

“I’m a government employee. I go to evening classes.”

He craved for Sayyida with an aching heart. But an idea occurred to him which brought him comfort: that the pouring rain was washing the lane and wiping its face clean.

One day he went back to the alley to find the ground in front of Sayyida’s house strewn with sand, while flags fluttered on either side. His heart gave a final beat. On the stairs to his flat he came upon Omm Husni—perhaps she had meant to wait for him? He greeted her as he passed and went on. Her voice called after him, “May God give you what you want and make you happy!”

He could not concentrate on his lecture notes. His small room was invaded by voices, women’s cries of joy, children’s cheers, and the wedding music. Yes. There was Sayyida entering the kingdom of another man. A period of his youth was over and buried.

—

He went out with a new determination. He told himself that life was something greater than all its aspirations, that the wisdom of Omar al-Khayyam was more beautiful than al-Ma‘arri’s* and that a man’s heart was his only guide. He stormed into the wedding and the people said he was crazy. He pointed at Sayyida and said to her, “The decision lies with you.” She responded to his appeal in spite of the crying and the wailing, because in the critical moments which precede execution the truth is laid bare and death is vanquished. Away they went, running together up three back streets through Bab al-Nasr to the City of the Dead, both staggering with happiness.

—

The noise, the cries of joy, and the singing continued till dawn broke. He kept looking at his notes without comprehending a thing. He was overcome by loneliness, slumped in an empty world without sound or hope. His anguish bore down upon him on the wearisome path. He reminded himself of the battling of nations and the battling of germs and the battling of health and strength, and he shouted, “Glory be to God on high!”