— Nothing.
— Nothing? That cannot be!
— Cannot be? Why? Then she would add, reproachfully: It seems to me the subject of men holds first place in the lives of young girls, however much they try to hide it. But I am not surprised at this. It is a life full of emptiness, with nothing to fill it but the natural inclinations.
We would protest angrily and try to argue. As for her, she would sit down at the piano and begin to play, saying: “This is my language; it is nobler than words.” Then she would go on playing for long hours without tiring, as though she forgot herself when she did so.
One day she told us she was going to leave teaching and set out on a long journey in the company of her bicycle. She had wearied of this place, and had begun to feel decline and stagnation creeping into her soul; she must have a change.
“I must renew myself as I renew Layla's parts from time to time. Everything that does not renew itself dies.”
We asked her: Have you money enough for your long journey? — About a thousand Lebanese liras.
We gasped in astonishment: And with that you hope to tour the world? She answered: My clothes are very sturdy, and so is the bicycle. I can live a scout's life, and if things go hard with me I can teach some languages or work in a factory.
— And the music? — The music is for myself; I don't like teaching it. — Aren't you afraid to travel about alone, and without money? She burst out laughing: “That is a lighter load and easier on the mind — for then I need not fear thieves!”
Then she added: Life is freedom and adventure. Apart from that it has no value.
“Su” went away, and we heard nothing more of her — except that from time to time she would send us hurried postcards, some from India and some from Italy. We seldom spoke of her, but the sound of her laughter and her deep, strange sayings kept ringing in our minds like a long echo.
We too went our separate ways, each on her own path, for school days do not last long. Our gatherings grew fewer after that. Yet we never once met without each of us pouring out her complaint of the shock that had seized her on passing from the life of imagination to the life of reality.
We had understood our surroundings through books, and behold, the gulf was vast between our dreams and the naked truth we came to face. And after exchanging views at school on Rousseau and Nietzsche and Shelley, we now traded remarks like these:
— Doesn't this state of things pain you? We are floundering in a black night of superstitions and delusions.
— I have yet to come upon a human being who does not lie, or exaggerate with impudence and poor taste.
— How can we live with people who do not understand us? They are still living in the age of Noah and Abraham and Jacob. There is no difference at all between the ones and the others.
— I see around me nothing but fossilized minds, and greedy souls whose only care is amassing money.
We felt the need to come together, to renew glimpses of our school days, to talk over the problems that confronted us, and to exchange succor and inspiration whenever we felt our resolve failing and our will sinking. So we decided to meet on a regular, settled basis.
One day we debated an important matter. Su'ad — she of the green eyes and the striking, attractive coloring — said: I am at a loss and I want your opinion. Shall I marry this man who keeps pursuing me? I cannot stand him, but he is rich. And I can find no one else.
— And why can't you stand him?
— I don't know. I cannot come to an understanding with him. I cannot. Both companions fell silent; then Nuha raised her head and said sharply: Impossible! How can a girl marry a man she does not love?
And she went on: “The same problem came my way, and I refused. I refused flatly to accept a marriage I had no inclination for. But I have fallen into something worse. I work in a teaching post, and I suffer torments from the principal's harshness, her tyranny, and her ignorance.
There are teachers who humor her whims, and so she grants them her favor; as for me, I am incapable of flattery and self-abasement. I cannot” — she said this in a tone close to weeping.
The two companions cried: But then... leave that post!
— Would I find a better one? I find some consolation in the salary. — But what use is a salary against the