A Little Girl... A Story in Diary Form — 2 —

— 2 —

September 5

Ah, these little heads! If we knew what goes on inside them, we would feel neither pleasure nor delight; rather we would be astonished, and perplexity would take hold of us.

Today, when Samia was at our house asking me for some books to read... I tried to broach with her what I had long ago resolved to broach... I did not want to begin with myself first; rather I tried to make my talk natural — one word drawing on another until I reached my aim...

I began by calling her to fetch the book "Jane Eyre" from the library room. When we got there, she was jumping and skipping as usual, talking rapidly, then looking at me with a smile as though trying to see how far I approved of her chatter. Suddenly I looked at her and said:

— Samia, I am going to tell you a secret. Do you promise to keep it?

She looked on with the utmost interest, as if she had come into something precious — for her curiosity is matched only by her beauty and her chatter.

— What is this secret? Tell me, and I promise to tell no one...

Then she laughed with an endearing innocence...

— Yesterday a letter reached me from my brother Ahmad in Paris, in which he tells me he will return in a month...

She gave me no time; she cut me off, saying with a laughing voice:

— Is that the secret?

— No! Will you be quiet a little so I can tell it to you? He has married a French girl named Pauline, and he sent me her picture with the letter...

I do not know — was I blind that morning? I put down her sudden silence and her ceasing to tease to nothing but a feigned interest, or a seriousness meant to prove to me that she was worthy of my good opinion... I did not attend closely to the expression of her face, nor to her response to the talk as news of real consequence to her; all I supposed was that she took interest in the news and stopped talking because it flattered her vanity that I had made her the keeper of my secret...

And I went on talking, saying:

— And he asks me to say nothing for now... He will manage the matter with my father and my mother: either he will bring her with him next month, or he will come without her, to smooth the way for her...

— Show me her picture...

And when I went and came back with the picture, she stared at it a long while, then said:

— She is very beautiful. What a lovely woman. I wish I were like her.

She did not let me go on any further; she told me she was going home and would see me in the afternoon...

Late in the day I saw her by the sea, but she was not skipping as usual; she was absent and glum, and when I called her to race me... she rose heavily... We ran a little... then she stopped running and threw herself down on the sand.

— What is the matter with you? Why don't you finish the race?

— I am tired; I cannot race.

Then we sat together, her eyes wandering far away, and on her face the marks of daze and gloom... And then, suddenly, I saw her fling herself on the sand... weeping with pain and anguish...

— What is wrong, Samia?

— Nothing; I only feel very tired.

— Tiredness does not weep. Tell me — am I not your great friend? Did I not tell you a secret that no one knows but you?

— I wish you had not told me that secret. I wish you had stayed silent to the very end...

[Sidebar:]
She is nearly driving me mad, this child... this cunning creature... How could she make me believe she knew nothing?? Was it her conscience that would not let her accept my love? And why??!

So..!! This, then, is the truth...
So now I have learned the contents of the little head... I have learned that my child was no child; she understood everything — more than I, and more than anyone. So... my little girl is in love!!
Oh, the little one... She loved, with all her heart, one man, and did not wait for him to return it; she gave him her heart and her feelings without condition or restraint, and then imposed upon herself that mask of supposed innocent childhood... to keep every man away from her, and to remain pure and serene, accepting love or passion from no one... even were he her man's own brother, even were he her childhood companion...
My thoughts were in tumult, my heart pounding hard. I felt that I loved her at that moment more than at any time before — for now, in my eyes, she is complete...
When she lifted her head from the sand, that sand was mixed with her tears and covered her face... I took her braid in my hand, raised it to my lips, and kissed it:
— He is blind of heart, that madman who trades this angel for a French girl.
— He is not blind of heart; perhaps he knew nothing at all. It is I who am blind of heart, for love shut my eyes and I did not see what I was to him. I loved him so much that I fancied he returned my feeling; but in truth I was nothing to him but a "naughty" child who hits the boys and throws stones at the sparrows and walks barefoot on the sand all summer long. I was to him only a child he found sweet, whose play amused him; so he played with her, never knowing that he was playing with her heart and feeding her love by it... And after he went away, I went out of his mind; but he did not go out of mine... he was not absent from my heart for a single moment. Yet I dared not ask after him, for fear someone should notice something in me; I contented myself with the news that came by chance from your mother or from you, and showed no outward interest in it... as though it did not concern me.
What an actress... How could she deceive me all this time with her innocence?
I love her more than at any moment before... for now she is, to me, a woman in love who understands the meaning of love and values the feelings of lovers... not a child who mocks me and my heart.

September 20
My brother returns in fifteen days, and yesterday I decided to tell my mother of this matter... I called her to my room and locked the door, and without preliminaries I gave her a firm look and said:

— No agitation, if you please, and I beg you to keep your calm: my brother has married a Frenchwoman.

My mother did keep her calm — not because she was anxious to do as I asked, but because astonishment tied her tongue. She stared at me open-mouthed, then collected herself and said:

— There is no power and no strength save in God. And when did this happen?

— Some time ago. And please do not let my father know until you have prepared the way for the news, so that it does not take him by surprise.

— You know, my son, that I want nothing but the happiness of you and your brother; your sister is no longer in my charge now... But do you think this Frenchwoman will make him happy?

— If he did not believe so, he would not have married her; and he is grown, and knows where his interest lies.

— May God send good, my son. Please leave the telling of your father to me; I know his ways.

— Be careful, Mother, for I am under a responsibility now: I told you only after long hesitation, for my brother wanted to leave the matter until he came and arranged things himself with Father.

— No; what you did is exactly right. To smooth the way before he comes is the sounder course.

Then my mother left me, and I came back to myself. I was like one unable to move; my thoughts were disordered and unarranged: my brother... and Samia... and now my father, and all that would follow upon his learning of it... I felt my head like a spinning whirlpool, so I decided to read... but I could not follow the lines, so I stretched out on the chaise longue and sank into a deep sleep.

September 21

What a look there was on her face when I told her that it is I who love her, not my brother! She stared at me a long while and then said: I know that; I have noticed it since winter, and this summer I became entirely sure of it.

She is nearly driving me mad, this child... this cunning creature... How could she make me believe she knew nothing? Was it her conscience that would not let her accept my love? And was that because I am Ahmad's brother?