He was wrong. What he said was true of reaching the position of Minister or Under Secretary of State, but to become a Director General was not impossible for ordinary people. It was their ultimate aspiration, particularly for those special cases who prepared themselves for that exalted glory. But days went by incessantly and stealthily. And the position of Director General would be of no avail if it were not held long enough for it to be enjoyed, for life to be appreciated under it, and for the most sublime of services to be rendered in its name to the sacred apparatus called the government.

When was he going to fulfill the requirements of his faith? Before achieving his life’s ambition or after? He must have a family and father children or else he would be damned. Either the bride that exalts a man to glory or the glory that attracts a dazzling bride. Under the intensity of his anguish, he sometimes craved for tranquillity and leisure as he brooded over the hard struggle which gave life its sole meaning and sacred agony.

One day he learned that the Director of Administration, Hamza al-Suwayfi, was complaining that his son was falling behind at school over foreign languages. He offered to help him.

Hamza was undecided and said, “I’d better find him a private tutor. I don’t want you to waste your time with him.”

“Your Honor,” replied Othman in words chosen with his usual care, “you have used words I cannot allow.”

So he paid frequent visits to the Director’s house and took singular trouble with the boy, with the result that he passed his examination. The Director tried to reward him but he recoiled as though from fire and said, “I shall not permit Your Honor that either…” And he stood his ground until the man succumbed. Then he added in a grateful tone, “I owe so much to you for your kindness and encouragement…”