Free Heart of the Night by Naguib Mahfouz

do not,’ she said. ‘You think that we owe you—this is your problem.’
    “‘But I sacrificed a lot for you,’ I said.
    “‘I am your first victim.’
    “‘Listen,’ I said, then stopped to avoid fighting.
    “She said loudly, ‘I hate this life with all my heart!’
    “I kept saying, ‘What about the children, the children?’
    “‘I have the right to take them with me.’
    “Do you want them to grow up in Eshashal-Turguman?’
    “‘I want them to grow up to be men!’
    “I told her that she was crazy, but she returned the insult, saying, ‘You’re the crazy one, and I can swear to that. No sane man lives from the use of his voice like a woman does.’
    “There was no use arguing with her, but when she asked to go, I insisted on keeping the children.
    “‘What would you do with them?’ she asked. ‘You wake up in late afternoon and do not return home till dawn or even later, and in a terrible state. How can they survive? Do you mean what you say?’
    “Defeated, I said, ‘That is why this house must remain open for their sake.’
    “She objected, and the conversation did not lead to any solution.
    “I thought of the children and realized that they couldn’t live with me. I had to be patient for their sake, no matter how hard it was for me. But Marwana settled the matter in her own way: I returned home at dawn one day to find the house empty. Not a single soul was there. I went immediately to Eshashal-Turguman, reaching it early in the morning. Marwana’s mother met me; she was in a sulky mood.
    “‘Go away peacefully,’ she said, ‘and do what men do for once!’
    “‘What about the children?’ I said.
    “‘They are our children!’ she replied disdainfully.
    “Then the old man arrived, surrounded by a band of fierce-looking men. He addressed me, saying, ‘You are a failure. Go back home.’
    “The men muttered vague words, and I became aware of the danger I faced. The old man spoke again. ‘Divorce her and give her all her rights, and if the sharia gives you rights now or later, I advise you to give them up if you want to save your skin. Leave before the sun shines on your face. I might commit a heinous crime if I see it in daylight.’
    “I left immediately, and began the divorce process. I postponed thinking about the problem of my children, telling myself I would wait until my oldest reached the legal age when I could reclaim him. It was an escape. I knew very well that I wouldn’t seriously try to claim my children since that would mean confronting a people who supplied Cairo with its violent criminals. It would also mean bringing them to a life where they could not possibly be cared for. Those children, descendants of al-Rawi, were destined to be lost wherever they went. Their only hope was in the radical salvation of the whole society.
    “This is the way Marwana left me, taking with her a story of love, madness, and failure, a story of emotional drought and hatred. Nothing was left of it but the memory of an amazing desire, the power ofconfrontation, and obstinate arrogance. It was like a storm: frightening, destructive, and worthy of admiration. After the loss of the children, I was overcome with a sadness that wedged into the depths of my soul and settled in the room of sorrow, joining the memory of my mother and my father.
    “I could not carry on living as if nothing had happened. Muhammad Shakroun felt sorry for me and watched over me carefully. One day, he asked me, ‘How long will you go on singing, drinking wine, and taking drugs?’
    “When Marwana and the children were living with me, my life had a semblance of normality, regardless of the quality of that life. Now, Shakroun’s question was reasonable. I replied, without meaning what I said, ‘Until death.’
    “He said, very seriously, ‘It is time for you to return to your grandfather.’
    “‘Sheikh Jaafar al-Rawi is finished.’
    “‘He can start all over again. We have to try,’ said