Adrift on the Nile

"Hypocrite, son of hypocrites, descended from a long line of bred-in-the-bone hypocrites," Ali intoned.

"My gaze was drawn irresistibly to her allure--while from her vocal cords issued the sort of honeyed tones that take a lot of effort to get past the censors!"

"Deluded fantasy," said Ali. "It was a normal conversation--conducted in a normal voice."

"But you were engrossed in a heated discussion with a film director, on the point of clinching a deal--"

Ali laughed loudly. "That was about a case of whiskey, nothing else. Which will shortly be consumed by the people on this infernal houseboat."

"And was it confined to honeyed tones?" asked Mustafa Rashid.

"What more can you expect from an almost formal occasion? But even so, the serious miss was swathed in a veil of femininity, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower--or Amm Abduh doing the rounds of his street girls!"

Sana's voice sounded like the top string of a zither when the player strikes it by accident. "What a magician you are," she said.

He smiled at her--a faint smile, which in the pallid blue light looked like a grimace. "My dear little thing," he said.

"I'm not little, if you don't mind!" she snapped.

"Little in years, but how great in . . . in stature--"

"Oh, spare me clichés that were old in the days of the Mameluke sultans!"

Ali sighed. "Oh to be in the Mameluke age--as long as we could be sultans, of course."

Sana replied, with undisguised dislike: "And oh how quickly the people on this boat turn into heartless beasts!"

But beasts do have hearts. And they are only savage when faced by enemies. I will not forget the whale as it retreated from the boat, telling me: _I am the whale who saved Jonah._ How many millions and millions of eyes have gazed at the Nile lying still in the moonlight. No better sign of Samara's sincerity than the passage of migrating birds. And as for poor Sana, she has forgotten about the cave dwellers in the age of her first youth . . .

"This tobacco!" Anis cried. "It's burning like paper!" And he wrapped it in a handkerchief to squeeze it down, all the while taking part in the Japan Olympics, running races and lifting weights and setting new world records. Then the telephone rang.

Ragab rose to answer it as if he was expecting a call. Anis could not hear what he was saying, apart from isolated phrases such as "Of course" and "Right away." He replaced the receiver and turned to the company. "If you will excuse me," he said; and turning to Sana: "I might be back at the end of the evening." And with that, he left. The houseboat shook under his powerful tread.

Sana twitched. It seemed to the others that she was almost in tears. Nobody said a word. Everyone looked questioningly--but Ali shook his head.

At last Mustafa addressed Sana, speaking to her gently. "Don't. The romantic era is long gone. It's the age of realism now."

And Layla said, concealing a gloating smile: "It is an accepted rule here--nothing is worth regretting . . ."

"Hang romanticism! And regrets!" cried Sana vehemently.

"He has gone to meet a producer, I assure you," said Ali. "But you really should bear in mind that your friend is a professional ladies' man!"

Ahmad stood up. "I'll bring you a whiskey," he said. "But do try to pull yourself together."

Then Saniya spoke. She was startlingly blunt. "And if worse comes to worst," she said, "you've still got Ahmad and Mustafa!"

"And what about me, you bastards!" shouted Anis wildly; and then he added roughly, spitting the words out: "Dissipated, addicted wretches!"

Everyone convulsed with laughter. "Do you think he's really gone to see Samara?" Mustafa wondered.

"No, no, no," said Ali.

"It wouldn't be unusual for him to be after a woman!"

"Would somebody please tell me," asked Layla, "why on earth she came here if it wasn't because of him?"

"Nothing's impossible, I admit," said Ali. "But Samara is not a naïve young girl. I don't think she would be satisfied with being a nine-day wonder."

"What is it that makes some men so incredibly presumptuous?" Mustafa wondered.

"Well, any star in his position is bound to have a certain charisma."

"It isn't just the aura of a star, or even elegance and good looks; he is simply sexuality itself!"

"Oh, let the women speak about that," said Ahmad. But Ali went on: "Women fall in love, but they don't say why!"

"In that case," advised Khalid, "consult your pituitary gland."

Sana took a mattress and went out onto the balcony to sit on her own. "Is she the feminine ideal you are searching for?" Ali asked Mustafa, surreptitiously indicating Sana. Mustafa tersely replied that she was not.

"The permissive society!" said Khalid. "Free love! It's the only remedy for all these ills."

"Damn you all," Anis said suddenly. "It is you who are responsible for the decline of Roman civilization."

Everyone roared. "You're unusually touchy tonight!" Ahmad observed of him.

"This filthy tobacco."

"But it is often like that."

"What about the moon?" Anis asked. "Do you know what part it plays in the comedy?"

"What comedy?"