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False Dawn


Article # : 20101 

Section : BOOK WORLD
Issue Date : 2 / 1992  6,985 Words
Author : Naguib Mahfouz (trans. by Trevor Le Gassick)
Naguib Mahfouz received the Nobel Prize in literature in 1988. Although chiefly recognized as a novelist, Mahfouz is also a prolific writer of short stories. The following story is appearing of the first time in English translation.

       It seemed a competition between me and the sun's disk, racing to the west. It reached Ibn Yasir Street, crowned with acacias on both sides, while a heavy flow of cars streamed past. Halfway up the street stood the apartment building, its front entrance expansive and lights shining brightly through its transparent walls.
       
        The elevator carried me to the eighth floor. I pressed the bell and the peephole revealed the servant's face. He led me into the reception suite of three interconnecting rooms, in the midst of which I positioned myself in my chair. The man drew a curtain and the great lady, the hanim, appeared, wearing a little blue dress that was the epitome of simple elegance, her feet clad in gilded blue slippers. Her splendidly large, powerful eyes surveyed me. I wondered at the clarity of her skin.
       
        She asked what I would like to drink, and I requested coffee. She informed me that she has spent a little of her spare time making chocolate biscuits, and I therefore asked to have one. She ordered me what I had requested, looked me in the face a moment, then said, "It's obvious you've not made a single step forward."
       
        I admitted it, replaying, "That's the truth."
       
        Laughing, she inquired, "And is the `problem' to blame or are you?"
       
        "I'll not defend myself, but no one could charge me with being inactive."
       
        "We seem not to even have begun."
       
        "That's what irks me too."
       
        The servant entered, pushing a teacart bearing the coffee and chocolate. She let me sip the coffee in peace, though my tension remained unrelieved. I implored her, "Please don't think badly of me."
       
        "It's results, not words or intentions, that interest me!"
       
        "But we live in such strange times; we've witnessed a man step down onto the surface of the moon, and yet we see the shops filled with books about the hidden supernatural forces."
       
        "But that doesn't imply that man can only stand with his arms
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