The Alexandria Quartet - Lawrence Durrell [134]
really, somewhere in the length and breadth of Egypt it must be, suffering terribly, alone, perhaps ill-treated.’ She began to cry and then stopped abruptly, angrily. ‘In order to safeguard us both from what would be a disaster I said to Nessim “I could never love a man like you: I could never give you an instant’s happiness. Thank you and good-bye.” ’
‘But are you sure?’
‘To use a man for his fortune, by God I’ll never.’
‘Justine, what do you want?’
‘First the child. Then to escape from the eyes of the world into some quiet corner where I can possess myself. There are whole parts of my character I do not understand. I need time. Today again Nessim has written to me. What can he want? He knows all about me.’
The thought crossed Clea’s mind: ‘The most dangerous thing in the world is a love founded on pity.’ But she dismissed it and allowed herself to see once more the image of this gentle, wise, undissimulating man breasting the torrent of Justine’s misfortunes and damming them up. Am I unjust in crediting her with another desire which such a solution would satisfy? (Namely, to be rid of Justine, free from the demands she made upon her heart and mind. She had stopped painting altogether.) The kindness of Nessim —
the tall dark figure which drifted unresponsively around the corri-dors of society — needed some such task; how could a knight of the order born acquit himself if there were no castles and no des-ponding maidens weaving in them? Their preoccupations matched in everything — save the demand for love.
‘But the money is nothing’ she said; and here indeed she was speaking of what she knew to be precisely true of Nessim. He him-self did not really care about the immense fortune which was his. But here one should add that he had already made a gesture which had touched and overwhelmed Justine. They met more than once, formally, like business partners, in the lounge of the Cecil Hotel to discuss the matter of this marriage with the detachment of Alexandrian brokers planning a cotton merger. This is the way of the city. We are mental people, and wordly, and have always made a clear distinction between the passional life and the life of the family. These distinctions are part of the whole complex of Medi-terranean life, ancient and touchingly prosaic.
‘And lest an inequality of fortune should make your decision difficult’ said Nessim, flushing and lowering his head, ‘I propose to make you a birthday present which will enable you to think of yourself as a wholly independent person — simply as a woman, Justine. This hateful stuff which creeps into everyone’s thoughts in the city, poisoning everything! Let us be free of it before deciding anything.’ He passed across the table a slim green cheque with the words ‘Three Thousand Pounds’ written on it. She stared at it for a long time with surprise but did not touch it. ‘It has not
offended you’ he said hastily at last, stammering in his anxiety.
‘No’ she said. ‘It is like everything you do. Only what can I do about not loving you?’
‘You must, of course, never try to.’
‘Then what sort of life could we make?’
Nessim looked at her with hot shy eyes and then lowered his glance to the table, as if under a cruel rebuke. ‘Tell me’ she said after a silence. ‘Please tell me. I cannot use your fortune and your position and give you nothing in exchange, Nessim.’
‘If you would care to try’ he said gent ly, ‘we need not delude each other. Life isn’t very long. One owes it to oneself to try and find a means to happiness.’
‘Is it that you want to sleep with me?’ asked Justine suddenly: disgusted yet touched beyond measure by his tone. ‘You may. Yes. Oh! I would do anything for you, Nessim — anything.’
But he flinched and said: ‘I am speaking about an understanding