Free Laziness in the Fertile Valley by Albert Cossery Page B

was too early. Serag was happy not to meet anyone. He didn’t want to talk, and then people always looked at him so strangely. They knew all his family, and smiled foolishly when they saw him coming. Serag was mortified every time. Suddenly he saw Mimi come out of an alley and hurry toward him, smiling. Mimi held his dog Semsen on a leash — a wretched animal, thin and dirty, that never left him.
    “Hello,” said Mimi. “I haven’t seen you for a long time. How are you?”
    “I don’t go out very much,” said Serag. “Are you taking a walk? How’s your dog?”
    “He’s a dirty beast,” said Mimi. “He gives me a lot of trouble. Listen: I wanted to see you.”
    “Really,” said Serag. “What about?”
    “I wanted to talk to you,” said Mimi. “I’ve been wandering around your house every day hoping to see you. But I didn’t have any luck.”
    “Is it very important?” asked Serag.
    Mimi didn’t answer. He looked at Serag out of the corner of his eye, with a gleam of lust.
    “Oh! it’s nothing very important,” he said. “I really just wanted to see you.”
    “I’m glad I ran into you,” said Serag.
    “Really?” asked Mimi.
    “Of course,” said Serag. “I like your dog very much.”
    “May I walk with you for a minute?” asked Mimi.
    “Please do,” said Serag.
    They began to walk along the side of the road, in the shade. Mimi held his head over his shoulder and smiled with ecstasy. He was still ogling Serag out of the corner of his eye. He was an odd young man, dressed with a studied elegance, with doubtful but refined manners. His plucked eyebrows and eyes darkened with grease gave him an equivocal, insinuating look. He walked daintily, lightly swinging his hips. From time to time he drew a handful of roasted watermelon seeds out of his jacket pocket and ate them with exquisite care.
    “Would you like some?” he asked Serag.
    “No thanks,” said Serag. “I don’t like them.”
    “You should, they’re delicious. Unfortunately, they’re difficult to eat if one doesn’t know how to go about it.”
    “I’ve never learned how to do it,” said Serag. “No one ever eats them at our house.”
    “Yes, it’s not easy for you,” said Mimi. “You don’t ever dare try it. You probably only like what’s easy to eat. You don’t want to tire yourselves too much.”
    “Oh no!” said Serag. “It’s just that no one likes them.”
    “I understand,” said Mimi, “You don’t have to explain to me. And above all, don’t be angry about what I just said.”
    “I’m not angry,” said Serag.
    “Good,” said Mimi. “I’m so happy to have met you.”
    He fluttered his eyelashes and smiled; he had beautiful red lips, rather full. Serag was terribly embarrassed. Mimi hadn’t yet explained why he had wanted to see him, but he knew him enough to guess the reason. He broke the silence:
    “Do you still paint?”
    “Yes,” said Mimi. “I even think I’ve succeeded in doing some extraordinary canvases. Someone wants to buy them; but I don’t want to sell.”
    Mimi was a pupil at the Beaux Arts; he was going to be a painter and considered himself a great artist. No one had ever seen his paintings, but he claimed they were masterpieces. His family took him at his word; as for his many friends, they ridiculed him openly. In all the quarter he had a reputation for being rather bizarre, and for having his own unique morals.
    “Did they offer you much money?” asked Serag.
    “Of course,” said Mimi. “But I don’t care about money. I paint only for art.”
    “That’s very beautiful,” said Serag. “You should be happy.”
    “Only art interests me,” said Mimi. “That’s why I’m so interested in your family. You too, in your own way, are artists.”
    “I don’t understand,” said Serag. “We aren’t artists, you’re mistaken. We don’t do anything at all.”
    “But that’s just it,” said Mimi. “This strange idleness, in my opinion, is a supreme and