The Beginning and the End by Naguib Mahfouz Page A

bowl. I shall find out today whether she deliberately appeared that other time.
He asked the boy to read, and the lesson was in progress. He listened to his pupil for a few minutes, but then his thoughts again rambled off.
Should I ask for tea? That would be too forward. But if they are late in bringing the tea, I must ask for it. I am too agitated. She and I are alone in the flat. Neither Salem’s presence nor that of the servant will make any difference. She and I are alone. Let me enjoy being alone with her for a while, in my imagination. If life were as lusciously simple as it used to be in early times, I would take her in my arms and ask her with no hesitation touncover her legs. What stops me from doing so? It is the folly of the world, which killed my father and caused the sufferings we have been undergoing.
He became aware of Salem only when the boy asked him the meaning of a word. He explained it to him and ordered him to proceed with his reading. Before the youngster’s voice faded away, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned his eyes in the direction of the open door. He saw the tea tray before he could distinguish who was carrying it. His eyes fell on her arms holding the tray. His heart beat violently and he rose like a man obsessed. While he was moving toward the door, he heard her soft voice, speaking almost in a whisper: “Salem.”
    Hassanein appeared before her, his eyes ravaging her.
    “Thanks a lot,” he whispered.
    Her almost pale complexion flushed. Perhaps she did not expect to see him. She lowered her eyes in confusion. Hassanein stretched his hands to take the tray from her. In so doing, his right hand clutched the fingers of her left hand. At once, something akin to an electric current flowed through his hand, arm, body, and soul. His daring had no limit. He pressed her fingers in a manner that could not be mistaken. Resentfully she withdrew her hand, and a frown darkened her face. Very angrily, she walked away from the door. He was extremely perturbed when he returned to the table carrying the tray. Confused, he addressed the boy. “Continue,” he said.
    His thoughts rambled:
Was I too hasty, not waiting for things to develop naturally? How impatient I am! I am always like that. What a frown came upon her face! She frowned and went away. If shyness is the reason, nothing will be dearer to my heart. But if its indignation, then it is the end of everything. Never shall I retreat. Never shall I know hesitation. Why did she come in person? Why didn’t she ask the servant to carry the tray? She came particularly for me. This is obvious. There is nothing to fear.
    He was intermittently aware of Salem, asked him some questions, then fell into worry and distraction, wavering betweenapprehension and pleasure. When the lesson was over, an idea occurred to him. He rose up, determined and unflinching, to put it into effect. Salem left the room to make way for his teacher. In this interval he took a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat, dropped it on the seat, and left the flat. But he did not budge after the door had been closed. Before knocking at the door, he listened attentively until the boy’s footsteps died away. His heart was pounding with extreme agitation.
If the servant opens the door for me, my plan will be foiled. But probably she will come. I have to be resigned to whatever happens.
The light in the hall was turned on, approaching footsteps were heard, and the door was opened. It was she. He did not like the astonishment that appeared on her face. But he wasted no time.
    “I am afraid I have angered you,” he said tenderly and sympathetically. She withdrew a step without uttering a word, and he said hurriedly, “I can never bear to see you angry.”
    As though she could not endure being spoken to, she whispered resentfully, “No, no, no. That is too much!”
    He could not answer, because Salem appeared on the threshold of the room on the left to inquire, “Is Mummy