The Beginning and the End by Naguib Mahfouz

particularly her knees. Neither the long dress, closed door, nor darkness can conceal such an image. Ones greatest duty in this world is to flirt with a beautiful girl whom one loves. I wonder how a shy girl, who dares not look into the face of her lover, can one day carelessly take off her clothes in his arms!
    Such a girl is apt to infuse delightful hopes even in dead souls. Perhaps this is due to the force of habit. Yes. The force of habit, which has rendered supperless nights quite a familiar thing to us. What right do I have to think of love under the present circumstances of our life! “Thank you. There is enough sugar in the tea!” I did well when I thanked her! My disposition dislikes cowardice and hesitation. Thus I can seize upon the opportunities of love in the midst of the desolation of poverty. If poverty were a man, I would kill him. But poverty is a woman. It kills us all and we do not resent it. Does my father suffer for our condition? What shape does he assume now? Alas! My father! True, life is a big lie. But she came in person, carrying the sugar bowl. In fact, she came especially for me. I wish I were the Charlemagne of my age. If one day I returned to Nasr Allah in the full majesty of knighthood, she would unconditionally surrender to me.
He recovered from his reverie only when he heard Hussein speaking.
    “Come. It is your turn.”
    Ah yes. The English language.
He took his brother’s place. He gave a lesson replete with kindness and affection for the boy in whose veins ran the same blood as that of his sister…the blood which he detected in the delicate back of her knee. At last he finished. But he was so absorbed that he was unaware of the passage of time. Then the two young men left the flat andclimbed down the dark stairs. He was no longer able to contain his feeling.
    “Her appearance today was a wonderful surprise,” he said.
    Hussein spoke in a suspiciously critical tone. “Take care. Don’t be insolent. This is a respectable house.”
    “What did I do to deserve that reproof?”
    “Do not do anything you would not dare to do if Farid Effendi was with us.”
    So delighted was Hassanein that he said as if to himself, “She came in person! Oh God! How nice she is!”
    “She did nothing wrong by coming.”
    “Do you think that her father asked her to bring the sugar bowl?”
    “How could I possibly know?” Hussein answered, sounding bored.
    “Did she come of her own accord?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “If she came of her own accord, did her father know about it?”
    There was no answer from his brother, who nevertheless paid close attention to his words.
    “Did she come surreptitiously?” Hassanein persisted.
    “Surreptitiously?!”
    Hassanein pressed his brother’s arm. “Do they not say in proverbs, ‘Between lovers there is discreet communion’?” he said as they reached the last stair.

SEVENTEEN
    “Now I have come by myself, and Hussein will come after me, so that our time will not be wasted unnecessarily.”
    “That is better,” Salem answered politely.
    Each took his place. Before starting the lesson, Hassanein suggested, “It will be better if we close the balcony window and open the door.”
    Salem rose and carried out the wish of his teacher, who noted that the silent hall was completely dark. But he did not lose hope. There was still time for tea and sugar. In his desire to be good to his teacher, Salem confided his thoughts to him. “Father and Mother,” he said, “have gone out to visit my grandmother.”
    Hassanein’s heart shook violently. He gave the boy a long look. “When did they go out?” he asked.
    “In the afternoon.”
    Anxiously, he sought to learn whether the girl had gone with them. “How could you stay alone in the house?”
    “My sister Bahia is staying with me,” the boy replied.
    This answer gave Hassanein relief, delight, and hope. Thoughts came to his mind:
Tea and sugar, especially sugar. Not sugar, but the sugar