Free The Harafish by Naguib Mahfouz

drinking in the nectar of the mulberry trees, delighting in the sound of the anthems, without understanding their meaning. But will the brightness and the clear skies last forever?
    2 .
    For the first time Fulla awoke and did not find Ashur asleep at her side. Her eyelids, heavy with sleep, flickered uneasily and her chest contracted with fear. She prayed God to protect her from a lover’s forebodings. The sweet, safe world around her gave way to bleak emptiness. Where was the prodigious young man of sixty, still strong, energetic, black-haired? Had he fallen asleep during his nightly vigil in front of the monastery?
    She called Shams al-Din. He woke up, grumbling. His handsome face looked inquiringly at her.
    “Your father’s not back yet,” she said.
    He took time to absorb her words, then pushed the cover backand stood up, slender, tallish. “What’s happened to him?” he muttered anxiously.
    “Perhaps he fell asleep,” she answered, fighting her apprehensions.
    As he dressed, his grace and beauty became more apparent, crowned with the innocence of early youth.
    “How can anyone want to stay up till daybreak in autumn?” he said as he went out of the door.
    3 .
    Outside a damp breeze blew. The last strands of mist were vanishing and life began to stir. Before long he would find his father asleep with nothing over him. He would scold him gently, which the intimacy between them allowed him to do.
    He went through the archway to the monastery square, peering in front of him as he prepared himself for the saga of their meeting. However, he found the place deserted. He looked about him in troubled silence: the square, the monastery, the ancient wall, but no trace of a human being. This was the spot where his giant of a father usually sat. Where had he gone?
    He threw a furious glance at the monastery; as usual it gave nothing away. Where had he gone?
    4 .
    Perhaps he would find out the answer from Ghassan or Dahshan, Ashur’s right-hand men. But they were surprised to see him and said Ashur had gone to the square a little before midnight and stayed an hour or two, no more.
    “Could he have arranged to meet somebody?” ventured Shams al-Din, but they claimed to know nothing more of his movements.
    After some hesitation he went to see Sheikh Mahmoud, who received the news with surprise and became lost in thought.
    “So the lion’s vanished,” he said finally. “Don’t worry. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be back before morning.”
    5 .
    Fulla’s strength of will abandoned her. She cried out, “Receive me in your arms, Lord! Spare me from my fears!”
    Shams al-Din sat with his father’s men in the café, talking and waiting. From time to time they glanced toward the archway or the corner of the alley, where it joined the main square. Autumn clouds filled the sky, silvery from the light behind them. Midday came and there was still no sign of Ashur. The men split up and went off in different directions in search of clues. By now the whole alley had heard the news and was consumed by it; nobody bothered to work.
    6 .
    The well-off and the merchants were astounded by the news. Magic filled the air they breathed like a miracle. For when people are caught in the grip of an unyielding force and see no chance of escape, they are desperate to believe in miracles. Had they not feared their hopes would soon be dashed, they would have dropped their guard and gloated openly. Only a miracle could deliver them from the tyrant’s authority, from his eternal youth, his iron will! So they prayed for his absence to last, the legend to be buried, the present order reversed once and for all.
    “Where’s he gone?” Darwish inquired of Sheikh Mahmoud.
    “Do you think I’ve got second sight?” said the sheikh scathingly.
    Darwish shook his white head. “There’s one possibility we shouldn’t overlook,” he murmured, “and that’s his weakness for women.”
    The sheikh smiled in a superior way but made no comment