The Beginning and the End Read Online Free PDF Page B

of friendship and courtesy, she often makes dresses for our neighbors. I see no harm in her asking for some compensation.”
    “That’s a good idea,” cried Hassan enthusiastically.
    But Hassanein, his face white with anger, cried, “A dressmaker?”
    “Why not? There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” answered Hassan.
    Hassanein retorted sharply, “No, my sister will never be a dressmaker. I refuse to be a brother to a dressmaker.”
    Samira frowned and shouted angrily, “You’re just a bull that eats and sleeps, and you know nothing about life! Your foolish mind will never understand how bad our situation is.”
    He opened his mouth to object.
    “Shut up!” she shouted. He snorted and did not utter another word.
    Seeing that she had done with his objection, Samira turned to Hussein. Their eyes met for a moment; then he lowered his and murmured reluctantly, “If it can’t be helped, let God’s will be done…”
    Samira was deeply moved. She said, “As Hassan has said, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t like to see any of you humiliated; but there are things that cannot be helped. I can do nothing about it.”
    There was a painful silence. Hussein was more like his mother than the rest of her children. He had her patience, sagacity, and loyalty to the family. He was greatly pained by the plans for his sister. Yet he felt it was stupid to object to the dictates of necessity. In his suffering he began to think that in these two days he had learned more than he had in the rest of his life. Nefisa remained helplessly silent. It wasn’t the first time that she heard that proposal, for her mother had already convinced her that it was inevitable. For her, dressmaking was an entertaining hobby. She had only to accustom herself to receive fees for it. Now her feeling of worthlessnessdoubled the grief she felt from her father’s death. It was no use.
    Interrupting the silence, Hassan said in a tone of regret, “It’s a real pity that my late father forbade Nefisa to continue her school education. Imagine how things would be now if our sister had become a teacher.”
    When they stared at him curiously, he understood that he had blundered. He hadn’t realized that what he said sounded like a joke. Would it not have been better if he had himself understood the value of education and continued his schooling? Frowning irritably, he said, “Education is good for those helpless ones like her.”

SEVEN
    The next morning, Hassan, the eldest son, accompanied Samira to the Ministry of Education. When it became known at the Ministry that she was the widow of Kamel Effendi Ali, many of his colleagues offered to put themselves at her service. She asked for whatever part of his salary might be due and was advised about the procedure for getting the required inheritance papers. She inquired about her husband’s pension, and one of the dead man’s colleagues accompanied her to the Personnel Department. They were told that since he had worked for the government for about thirty years at a salary of seventeen pounds a month, his heirs would receive a pension of five pounds per month. She had never imagined this, nor did she know anything about the government’s share of the pension. What really terrified her was the description of the months-long procedure required before she would receive the pension. She was so shocked that she could not help saying, “But how can we wait that long?”
    “We’ve nothing to live on except this pension,” said Hassan in an attempt to explain his mother’s concern. But no sooner did he utter these words than he regretted them, for they sounded strange coming from a man as tall and strong as himself. The official, however, paid no attention to these remarks.
    “Madam,” he said, “I promise you that we will not waste a single moment. But we can do nothing about the formalities of the Ministry of Finance.”
    What use were those nice words! But what would she gain by grumbling and