The Beginning and the End by Naguib Mahfouz Page A

sleep.”
    “In a mosque?”
    “It does not matter where; in a mosque or a tavern. What matters is Al Aza’n itself at this early hour.”
    “Excuse me. But if one is under the effect of alcohol or hashish?”
    “So much the better, for when you become sober you can make sure that you will do much better than when you are unconscious.”
    “We must occasionally meet so that God will help us to earn our living.”
    He turned to the three comrades and asked them, “What were you doing?”
    “Playing cards—a game of
komi
.”
    The master Ali Sabri said with interest, “Let’s try our luck.”
    The company got up and moved toward them without anyhesitation. They sat around the table; their hearts filled with greed. However, Hassan was worried and uneasy about the possible consequences of such a game. He thought:
What can I do with this son of a bitch! If I win, I shall antagonize him, and if I lose, then my day has been wasted.

TWELVE
    “I will not pay one millieme more than three pounds,” said the furniture dealer, casting a last look on the bed of the deceased. Samira’s bargaining became futile. She had decided to sell the bed and its accessories because of the grief its presence provoked and because she was desperately in need of money. She had hoped for a higher price, which would meet her urgent needs; however, she had no choice but to accept the price the man offered. She said to the dealer, “You have been too sharp; God forgive you. But I have to accept.” Swearing that it was she who had been too clever, the dealer paid her the three pounds and ordered two of his men to carry away the bed.
    The family assembled in the hall to cast a farewell look on the bed of their beloved father. The deceased vividly appeared before their eyes, and Nefisa was overcome by grief and burst into tears. Samira tightened her lips, subduing her pain, controlling her tears before her children lest their own grief be revived. As the only person in this world the whole family could rely upon, she had to behave stoically. Had there been another person to depend upon, she could have found refuge in tears, as other women do. She felt it was incumbent upon her to be solid and patient. Besides, the worries and burdens of their new life allowed her no opportunity to give vent to her grief. She found that for the most part she had to forget her own anguish to combat the menace of poverty that confronted the family.
My dear dead husband and master,
she thought,
it grieves me that I don’t have even the time to mourn for you. But what is to be done? To us poor folk grief is a luxury we cannot afford.
It had never occurred to Hassanein that they would dispose of his father’s belongings, but he did not think of objecting. In fact, the family’s difficultcondition had become known to everybody. The dealer left, taking the bed with him, and the door was closed behind him. An unspoken sadness fell upon them. Hoping to dispel this hovering sorrow, Samira told her two younger sons, “Go to your room and study your lessons.”
    Before they could make a move to depart, Nefisa was overcome by emotion. “Never,” she said, “will I let anyone touch my father’s clothes.”
    Hassan agreed. “Selling them would be of no use.”
    They were silent for a while. He continued as though there had been no quiet interval of silence. “Furthermore, it won’t be long before we need these clothes!”
    “Is it possible,” Nefisa asked in fright, “that you would wear my father’s clothes?”
    No one dared to object. Samira’s heart softened and she spoke tenderly. “There is no harm in that…nothing to offend the memory of the deceased. He himself would approve of it. But I shall keep these clothes myself until they are really needed.”
    Encouraged by her words, Hassan said with relief, “You spoke wisely. May I remind you that I am the only one who is almost exactly my father’s height and breadth.”
    His two brothers forgot their