And you want me, respected sir, to add a new calamity to these calamities?
The "respected sir" bristles and reels off proofs backed with names and figures:
— So-and-so holds no Certificat, yet he was teaching a Brevet class. And so-and-so holds a Brevet and was teaching a Baccalaureate class. Is the law for us alone?
At this point there bursts into the office, along with the usher and the card, a za'im — one of the lords of chronic leadership, distinguished from his colleagues by a university degree and a passport showing that he has traveled much between Paris, Brussels, London, New York, Rio de Janeiro, and Buenos Aires... He notices the presence of "The Woman's Voice" and whispers his talk in a hush, as if afraid the walls have ears — and the Minister rouses himself and strains to make his own words come out in a whisper. But how could he! And the correspondent hears:
The Minister — My dear sir, you are asking of me something outside my authority!
The za'im — ........
The Minister — That will not happen while I am here. Your kinsman failed the examination because he spent the study hours in the cabarets... I have no power to raise marks, and even if the matter were in my hands I would not do it — never, never.
The za'im — ........
The Minister — The members of the examinations committee are men of honor and conscience, and it is not just for you to impose on them in this fashion. Your friend failed twice because he is weak in both languages. And I have no more to say than that.
The za'im goes out, and a delegation of za'ims comes in; they offer greetings and sit down. The Minister looks apologetically at the correspondent and says:
— Was that five minutes?
And the correspondent almost said: and fifty! nay, a hundred! And she secretly wished this fascinating show could go on, for in publishing it to the people there would be a lesson to soften the effect of that legend... the legend of Lebanese radiance and Lebanese soaring!!
One of them speaks for the group and says:
— We have come to you, Your Excellency the Minister, full of hope, and it was not our hope that you would refuse our request — we who were your patients before the deputyship and your friends after the deputyship... We petitioned you on behalf of so-and-so, that he might go and complete his studies in Europe, and you refused — really now, Emir!
— I did not refuse because I deliberately wished to deprive "so-and-so" of studying in Europe; the law does not permit it. The law provides that missions to the West are confined to branches not taught in the universities of Lebanon. We send to Europe the engineers and physicians who have taken their degrees here and have no way to specialize in Lebanon. I have several petitions from students who failed the examinations in medicine and law and want to go where the universities are lenient with Eastern students. The Ministry of Education cannot open that door...
The Emir-Minister labors on and convinces no one; every man of the delegation is a za'im of consequence, with his own self-regard and, above all this, his services rendered to Lebanon and to Lebanon's independence...
Hardly had the last za'im of the angry delegation vanished behind the door when an elegant lady entered the office, light of movement, crowned with the majesty of gray hair, the elegance of the aristocracies breathing from her black dress. She was saying to the usher, who was struggling to keep her out:
— God grant you success — I will not wait until one o'clock for you to tell me "he has gone to a Council of Ministers" or "the director of accounts is with him." No. I will not visit the Serail five times in a single month.
The Emir looks tired; he greets her and sinks into his chair, and the venerable lady cries out in the tone of a scolding sister:
— What is this weakness, Raif? In all my life I have never seen you like this!
— No, no one has ever seen me like this. In the world of the university I was a professor, seeing around me only the shining faces of students — grateful, mindful of kindness. In my laboratory I was a comforter to all, a friend to all. Then I became a deputy, then I became a Minister: and here I am, as you see, trying to serve people as my conscience approves, and meeting nothing but displeasure and resentment.
And the Minister begins to recount stories which, were the names of their subjects published, would make some faces blush red and others turn pale. Suddenly he remembers the "correspondent" of The Woman's Voice crouched in a corner, her face hidden behind a newspaper, and says:
— Forgive me, madam, forgive me — I am ready for the reportage.
— What reportage? Is there any more delightful than the one I have heard with my own ears and seen with my own eyes? Do you take me for that much of a simpleton? "Come now, Mir"!!!