The Jokers - Albert Cossery [62]
The stupor that had overcome Urfy gradually turned into joy. He regained all his confidence, and he wanted to proclaim his delight at the discovery that Heykal was so close to him in his suffering. The ignominious pain was gone now that he knew Heykal, too, was touched by the wound that tore at his soul. And yet as always the other man kept his distance, still imprisoned in his pride. What was he doing up there on the podium, like some forlorn creature stranded on a rock? Why didn’t he come close and take his hand in brotherhood? Urfy attempted to speak but the words stuck in his throat, and it was Heykal’s voice that rang out in the silence.
“May I see her?”
“She would be enchanted,” Urfy said. Come on.
He waited for Heykal to join him, then left the classroom with him and walked down the corridor that led to the madwoman’s room.
The door was open and a faint light shone within. Urfy paused on the threshold, worried. He didn’t see his mother anywhere in the room. It was a sort of cell, with a high window that was boarded up tight—to prevent the crazy old woman from attracting the attention of snooping neighbors. It contained a little iron bed, a chest of drawers, and a small sofa covered in jute; on the floor was a straw mat. An oil lamp, set on the chest of drawers, was the source of the meager light.
“Mother!” Urfy called.
There was no response, but Urfy sensed movement in the corner between the bed and the wall. He drew near, followed by Heykal. The old lady was crouched on the ground, seemingly busy patching some rags that were spread over her knees. She showed no surprise at their arrival; it was as if they’d always been there. But her dim eyes brightened at the sight of Heykal, animating her wasted face.
“I waited for you, my prince!” she said. “I dreamed of you all last night. You were on a white horse and you were slaying a dreadful dragon. But after each of your blows the dragon was reborn: it wouldn’t die. And you, prince, you laughed and laughed...And I knew why you laughed. Deep down, you didn’t want to kill the dragon; the dragon entertained you too much for you to want it dead.”
“Mother,” said Urfy. “Get up, and go lie down on your bed.”
But not until Heykal leaned over and held out his hand to help her would she move. She gripped his hand and rose to her feet as nimbly as a young girl, agile and full of grace. Her cotton dress revealed how skinny she was, and she was as light as a feather. She reached up to arrange the thin white threads of her hair, and, grown strangely coquettish all of a sudden, stretched out languorously on the bed—a pose that was both naive and shockingly shameless—like a courtesan awaiting the tributes of her admirers.
Now Heykal pulled the bouquet of jasmine from the inside pocket of his jacket and offered it to her. She took it and lifted it to her nostrils, breathing the perfume of the flowers with the elegance of a woman in the habit of receiving such attentions.
“Prince, you spoil me!” she simpered. “You’ll ruin yourself, for an old woman like me!”
“It’s nothing, a trifle compared to the happiness you give me,” responded Heykal.
“Happiness—me?! Prince, you’re mocking my old age!”
“You know that I would never dare to do that.”
“But I can tell that you’re a man with a taste for mockery.”
“Under far different circumstances, perhaps. Here, my heart overflows with gratitude.”
“Your heart is big, prince. It requires vast spaces. What do you see in this miserable hole! There are marvels outside. Why do you come to waste your time here?”
She waved the jasmine in the air like a fan, and the rank room began to smell sweet. Heykal sat at her feet, at the end of the bed. He seemed to be unaware of Urfy’s presence and was watching the old woman with peaceful joy.
“There’s nothing out there that you could possibly