She had been slowly going downhill, growing all the time more fleshy and more debauched. Yet the relationship between them had grown stronger and developed into real human intimacy. It had passed through all the natural phases of desire, boredom, and then indispensable habit. Thus she and the bare room and the horrible wine had together become something integral and familiar, which simultaneously gave him comfort and sorrow as well as something to think about. It also impelled him to face up to life, harsh and primitive as it was. He took no notice of the woman’s indifference or of her despicable behavior. In fact, these very elements made it possible for him to enjoy, even while he was with her, his sacred solitude.

“Strange,” he would say to himself, “that in all my years I haven’t made love to an ordinary woman except once!” He remembered Asila, but he also remembered that what he had done with her was a criminal act and not an act of love.

And he would also say to himself, “There is a humane and wholesome way of making love.”

Then he would sigh and say, “But there is glory too.”

Then he would sigh more deeply and say, “There is God as well and He is the origin of everything.”

Then he would sigh more deeply still and add, “And we remember Him when times are good and also when they are bad!”

THIRTY

Despite her resistance to the passage of time, age had left its imprint on Omm Husni. Her eyesight was almost gone and she limped so badly that she could only walk by supporting herself with an old broom handle. Meanwhile Othman had so completely despaired of Omm Zaynab, the marriage broker, that he told himself indignantly that those who chattered about class conflict had good reason to!

Omm Husni was no longer fit for her noble profession. Her senility was such that once she suggested a woman for him forgetting that she had died years before.