Karnak Café by Naguib Mahfouz Page B

very fact that such features have been systematically overlooked that has contributed to our defeat.”

    Next he told me about his second period in prison.
    â€œI was visiting Hilmi Hamada’s house,” he told me. “I left at around midnight, and they arrested me on the spot. With that I found myself back in the dark and empty void.”
    Once again he found himself forced to ponder what the accusation might be this time. He had a long time to wait before he was to find out, and once again he went throughall the tortures of hell. There he was yet again facing Khalid Safwan.
    â€œI stood there silently,” he told me. “This time I could benefit from my previous experience. Even so, I was still expecting trouble from all the same directions as before.
    â€œÂ â€˜You cunning little bastard,’ Khalid Safwan said, looking me straight in the eye. ‘Here we were, thinking you belonged to the Muslim Brothers.…’
    â€œÂ â€˜And I turned out to be innocent,’ I replied emphatically.
    â€œÂ â€˜But what was lurking just below the surface was even worse!’
    â€œÂ â€˜I believe in the revolution,’ I said fervently. ‘That’s the only true fact there is.…’
    â€œÂ â€˜Oh, everyone believes in the revolution,’ he said sarcastically. ‘In this very room, feudalists, Wafdists, and Communists have all avowed their belief in the revolution!’ He gave me a cruel stare. ‘So when did you join the Communists?’
    â€œA denial was immediately on my lips, but I suppressed it. In a purely reflex action I raised my shoulders as though to hide my neck, but said nothing.
    â€œÂ â€˜When did you join the Communists?’ he repeated.
    â€œI felt as though my neck were becoming increasingly constricted. I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing.
    â€œÂ â€˜Don’t you want to confess?’
    â€œI remained silent, using it in much the same way as I had adopted misery inside that dark prison cell.
    â€œÂ â€˜Okay!’ he said.
    â€œHe gestured with his hand. I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and my body gave a shudder. All of a sudden I became aware that someone was standing right beside me; out of the corner of my eye I could make out thatshe was a woman. I turned toward her in amazement. All the terror I was feeling was completely obliterated by another sensation. ‘Zaynab!’ I yelled, unable to stop myself.
    â€œÂ â€˜So you know this woman, do you?’ he asked. ‘It seems to matter to you what happens to her.’ He looked back and forth between the two of us with those sunken eyes of his. ‘Does it matter?’
    â€œFor an entire minute I felt utterly shattered.
    â€œÂ â€˜You’re an educated man, and I’m sure you’ve some imagination,’ he went on. ‘Can you imagine what might happen to this poor innocent girl if you refuse to talk?’
    â€œÂ â€˜What is it you want, sir?’ I asked in a mournful tone that was actually addressed to the world as a whole.
    â€œÂ â€˜I am still asking you the same question: when did you join the Communists?’
    â€œÂ â€˜I don’t remember the exact date,’ I replied, thereby burying any last flicker of hope, ‘but I confess to being a Communist.’
    â€œMy confession was recorded on a sheet of paper, and I was taken away.”
    He was taken back to his cell. Contrary to his initial expectations, he was not tortured any more. Even so, he was convinced that now he was lost.
    An unspecified amount of time went by, then one day a guard came along and took him to a locked door. “Perhaps you’d like to see your friend, Hilmi Hamada,” he said.
    He removed the cover from the peephole and ordered Isma‘il to take a look inside.
    â€œI looked inside. What I saw was so grotesque that at first I couldn’t take it all in. It was just like some