Free Karnak Café by Naguib Mahfouz Page B

welcomed the idea of him taking her away from the tenement courtyard and giving her a happy life of her own. However, Zaynab turned him down, and that made her mother very angry. It was Isma‘il and his family who had borne the brunt of that anger.
    â€œYou’ll be sorry!” she yelled at her daughter. “It’ll be too late, and then you’ll regret it.”
    Even then the matter did not blow over quietly. The merchant spread a rumor that there was something going on between Zaynab and Isma‘il. This also raised a storm inside the courtyard, but Zaynab’s will was still strong enough to triumph. It also affected the way she behaved. In order to confront these unjust accusations head on, she decided to act in a very conservative fashion. If certain people decided to accuse her of being reactionary, then so be it; she did not care. Nor did her increasingly broad education change her demeanor in any way.
    â€œWe represent a conservatism that is deliberately dressedin the guise of progressivism,” she said. “That’s why, within the framework of the revolution, I’ve found things that to me seem both comforting and reassuring.”
    She loved Isma‘il very much and fully understood the way he thought as well. She believed that they shared the same set of attitudes. Even though he might pretend to say things that he didn’t really believe in his heart of hearts, she realized that he would never forgive her if she were to look down on him in any way.
    â€œAt the time,” she told me, “old Hasaballah, the chicken seller, was eager to get me at any price. When I turned him down, he wasn’t put off. He used an old woman who worked with him to get to me again. But I certainly taught her a lesson.”
    â€œYou mean, he wanted to have you out of wedlock?”
    â€œThat’s right. And he was prepared to pay a high price for it too!”
    She was saying all this in a listless tone that seemed strangely inappropriate to the situation. At the time I had no idea what lay behind it.
    â€œZayn al-‘Abidin ‘Abdallah tried the same game later on,” she said.
    â€œNever!” I exclaimed in surprise.
    â€œOh yes, he did,” she replied emphatically.
    â€œBut he was crazy about Qurunfula!”
    She shrugged her shoulders.
    â€œMaybe he was just pretending to be in love with her,” I suggested. “He wanted to hide the fact that he was really after her money.”
    â€œNo,” she replied. “He was genuinely in love with her; he still is. He just needed a bit of diversion for consolation’s sake. Maybe the old rogue thought I was one of those girls who fools around.”
    â€œWhen did he let you know what he was after?”
    â€œMany times, but I’m referring to the first time, immediately after our first spell in prison.”
    â€œIn spite of his stubbornness I believe that he’s given up hope about Qurunfula.”
    â€œWhy should he give up hope? He’s simply sitting around waiting for the time when he’ll get his dues.”
    She decided to put an end to this chatter about affairs of the heart. “There were many others as well,” she said.
    â€œWas Hilmi Hamada—God rest his soul—one of them?” I asked with a great deal of hidden concern.
    â€œCertainly not!” she replied in amazement.
    â€œI must tell you in all candor that I’d thought there was something between the two of you.”
    â€œWe were close friends,” she replied sadly. “But Isma‘il’s the only man I’ve ever loved.”
    â€œAre you still in love?” I asked.
    She ignored my question.
    The story of her attitude toward the revolution was exactly the same as Isma‘il’s. “They arrested me because of my connection with Isma‘il,” she said, talking about her first arrest. “There was not even the slightest suspicion of a case against me,