a day or a week before I would pitch tent, driving my tent peg
into the mountain summit. You, my lady, may not known; but you — like Carnarvon
when he entered Tutan-Khamen’s tomb — have been infected with a deadly disease
which has come from you know not where and which will bring about your
destruction, be it sooner or later. My store of hackneyed phrases is
inexhaustible. I felt the flow of conversation firmly in my hands, like the
reins of an obedient mare: I pull at them and she stops, I shake them and she
advances; I move them and she moves subject to my will, to left or to right.
‘“Two hours have passed without my being aware of them,” I
said to her. “I’ve not felt such happiness for a long time. And there’s so much
left for me to say to you and you to me. What would you say to having dinner
together and continuing the conversation?"
‘For a while she remained silent. I was not alarmed for I
felt that satanic warmth under my diaphragm, and when I feel it I know that I
am in full command of the situation. No, she would not say no.
“This is an extraordinary meeting,” she said. ‘A man I don’t
know invites me out. It’s not right, but —" She was silent. "Yes, why
not?” she then said. "There’s nothing to tell from your face you’re a
cannibal."
"‘You’ll find I’m an aged crocodile who’s lost its
teeth," I said to her, a wave of joy stirring in the roots of my heart. “I
wouldn’t have the strength to eat you even if I wanted to." I reckoned I
was at least fifteen years her junior, for she was a woman in the region of
forty whose body — whatever the experiences she had undergone — time had
treated kindly. The fine wrinkles on her forehead and at the comers of her
mouth told one not that she had grown old, but that she had ripened.
‘Only then did I ask her name.
‘“Isabella Seymour," she said.
‘I repeated it twice, rolling it round my tongue as though
eating a pear. "And what’s your name?"
‘“I’m — Amin. Amin Hassan."
"‘I shall call you Hassan."
‘With the grills and wine her features relaxed and there
gushed forth — upon me — a love she felt for the whole world. I wasn’t so much
concerned with her love for the world, or for the cloud of sadness that crossed
her face from time to time, as I was with the redness of her tongue when she
laughed, the fullness of her lips and the secrets lurking in the abyss of her
mouth. I pictured her obscenely naked as she said: “Life is full of pain, yet
we must be optimistic and face life with courage."
‘Yes, I now know that in the rough wisdom that issues from
the mouths of simple people lies our whole hope of salvation. A tree grows
simply and your grandfather has lived and will die simply. That is the secret.
You are right, my lady: courage and optimism. But until the meek inherit the
earth, until the armies are disbanded, the lamb grazes in peace beside the wolf
and the child plays water-polo in the river with the crocodile, until that time
of happiness and love comes along, I for one shall continue to express myself
in this twisted manner. And when, puffing, I reach the mountain peak and
implant the banner, collect my breath and rest — that, my lady is an ecstasy
greater to me than love, than happiness. Thus I mean you no harm, except to the
extent that the sea is harmful when ships are wrecked against its rocks, and to
the extent that the lightning is harmful when it rends a tree in two. This last
idea converged in my mind on the tiny hairs on her right arm near to the wrist,
and I noticed that the hair on her arms was thicker than with most women, and
this led my thoughts to other hair. It would certainly be as soft and abundant
as cypress-grass on the banks of a stream. As though the thought had radiated
from my mind to hers she sat up straight.
“Why do you look so sad?” she said.
‘“Do I look sad? On the contrary I’m very happy"
‘The tender look came back into her eyes as she
into the mountain summit. You, my lady, may not known; but you — like Carnarvon
when he entered Tutan-Khamen’s tomb — have been infected with a deadly disease
which has come from you know not where and which will bring about your
destruction, be it sooner or later. My store of hackneyed phrases is
inexhaustible. I felt the flow of conversation firmly in my hands, like the
reins of an obedient mare: I pull at them and she stops, I shake them and she
advances; I move them and she moves subject to my will, to left or to right.
‘“Two hours have passed without my being aware of them,” I
said to her. “I’ve not felt such happiness for a long time. And there’s so much
left for me to say to you and you to me. What would you say to having dinner
together and continuing the conversation?"
‘For a while she remained silent. I was not alarmed for I
felt that satanic warmth under my diaphragm, and when I feel it I know that I
am in full command of the situation. No, she would not say no.
“This is an extraordinary meeting,” she said. ‘A man I don’t
know invites me out. It’s not right, but —" She was silent. "Yes, why
not?” she then said. "There’s nothing to tell from your face you’re a
cannibal."
"‘You’ll find I’m an aged crocodile who’s lost its
teeth," I said to her, a wave of joy stirring in the roots of my heart. “I
wouldn’t have the strength to eat you even if I wanted to." I reckoned I
was at least fifteen years her junior, for she was a woman in the region of
forty whose body — whatever the experiences she had undergone — time had
treated kindly. The fine wrinkles on her forehead and at the comers of her
mouth told one not that she had grown old, but that she had ripened.
‘Only then did I ask her name.
‘“Isabella Seymour," she said.
‘I repeated it twice, rolling it round my tongue as though
eating a pear. "And what’s your name?"
‘“I’m — Amin. Amin Hassan."
"‘I shall call you Hassan."
‘With the grills and wine her features relaxed and there
gushed forth — upon me — a love she felt for the whole world. I wasn’t so much
concerned with her love for the world, or for the cloud of sadness that crossed
her face from time to time, as I was with the redness of her tongue when she
laughed, the fullness of her lips and the secrets lurking in the abyss of her
mouth. I pictured her obscenely naked as she said: “Life is full of pain, yet
we must be optimistic and face life with courage."
‘Yes, I now know that in the rough wisdom that issues from
the mouths of simple people lies our whole hope of salvation. A tree grows
simply and your grandfather has lived and will die simply. That is the secret.
You are right, my lady: courage and optimism. But until the meek inherit the
earth, until the armies are disbanded, the lamb grazes in peace beside the wolf
and the child plays water-polo in the river with the crocodile, until that time
of happiness and love comes along, I for one shall continue to express myself
in this twisted manner. And when, puffing, I reach the mountain peak and
implant the banner, collect my breath and rest — that, my lady is an ecstasy
greater to me than love, than happiness. Thus I mean you no harm, except to the
extent that the sea is harmful when ships are wrecked against its rocks, and to
the extent that the lightning is harmful when it rends a tree in two. This last
idea converged in my mind on the tiny hairs on her right arm near to the wrist,
and I noticed that the hair on her arms was thicker than with most women, and
this led my thoughts to other hair. It would certainly be as soft and abundant
as cypress-grass on the banks of a stream. As though the thought had radiated
from my mind to hers she sat up straight.
“Why do you look so sad?” she said.
‘“Do I look sad? On the contrary I’m very happy"
‘The tender look came back into her eyes as she
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