The important piece of news that the new headmaster had arrived spread through the school. She heard of it in the women teachers\u2019 common room as she was casting a final glance at the day\u2019s lessons. There was no getting away from joining the other teachers in congratulating him, and from shaking him by the hand too. A shudder passed through her body, but it was unavoidable.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cThey speak highly of his abilities,\u201d said a colleague of hers. \u201cAnd they talk too of his strictness.\u201d<\/p>\n
It had always been a possibility that might occur, and now it had. Her pretty face paled, and a staring look came to her wide black eyes.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When the time came, the teachers went in single file, decorously attired, to his open room. He stood behind his desk as he received the men and women. He was of medium height, with a tendency to portliness, and had a spherical face, hooked nose, and bulging eyes; the first thing that could be seen of him was a thick, puffed-up mustache, arched like a foam-laden wave. She advanced with her eyes fixed on his chest. Avoiding his gaze, she stretched out her hand. What was she to say? Just what the others had said? However, she kept silent, uttered not a word, What, she wondered, did his eyes express? His rough hand shook hers, and he said in a gruff voice, \u201cThanks.\u201d She turned elegantly and moved off.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She forgot her worries through her daily tasks, though she did not look in good shape. Several of the girls remarked, \u201cMiss is in a bad mood.\u201d When she returned to her home at the beginning of the Pyramids Road, she changed her clothes and sat down to eat with her mother. \u201cEverything all right?\u201d inquired her mother, looking her in the face.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cBadran, BadranBadawi,\u201d she said briefly. \u201cDo you remember him? He\u2019s been appointed our headmaster.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cReally!\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Then after a moment of silence, she said, \u201cIt\u2019s of no importance at all \u2013 it\u2019s an old and long-forgotten story.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After eating, she took herself off to her study to rest for a while before correcting some exercise books. She had forgotten him completely. No, not completely. How could he be forgotten completely? When he had first come to give her a private lesson in mathematics, she was fourteen years of age. In fact, not quite fourteen. He had been twenty-five years older, the same age as her father. She had said to her mother, \u201cHis appearance is a mess, but he explains things well,\u201d And her mother had said, \u201cWe are not concerned with what he looks like; what\u2019s important is how he explains things.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He was an amusing person, and she got on well with him. and benefited from his knowledge. How, then, had it happened? In her innocence she had not noticed any change in his behavior to put her on her guard. Then one day he had been left on his own with her, her father having gone to her aunt\u2019s clinic. She had not the slightest doubts about a man she regarded as a second father. How, then, had it happened? Without love or desire on her part the thing had happened. She had asked in terror about what had occurred, and he had told her, \u201cDon\u2019t be frightened or sad. Keep it to yourself and I\u2019ll come and propose to you the day you come of age.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And he had kept his promise and had come to ask for her hand. By then she had attained a degree of maturity that gave her an understanding of the dimensions of her tragic position. She had found that she had no love or respect for him and that he was as far as he could be from her dreams and from the ideas she had formed of what constituted an ideal an moral person. But what was to be done? Her father had passed away two years ago, and her mother had been taken aback by the forwardness of the man. However, she had said to her, \u201cI know your attachment to your personal independence, so I leave the decision to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She had been conscious of the critical position she was in. She had either to accept or to close the door forever. It was the sort of situation that could force her into something she detested. She was the rich beautiful girl, a byword in Abbaiyya for her nobility of character, and now here she was struggling helplessly in a well-sprung trap, while he looked down at her with rapacious eyes. Just as she had hated his strength, so too she hated her own weakness. To have abused her innocence was one thing, but for him to have the upper hand now that she was fully in possession of her faculties was something else. He had said, \u201cSo here I am, making good my promise because I love you.\u201d He had also said, \u201cI know of your love of teaching, and you will complete your studies at the College of Science.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She had felt such anger as she had never felt before. She had rejected coercion in the same way as she rejected ugliness. It had meant little to her to sacrifice marriage. She had welcomed being on her own, for solitude accompanied by self-respect was not loneliness. She had also guessed he was after her money. She had told her mother quite straightforwardly, \u201cNo,\u201d to which her mother had replied, \u201cI am astonished you did not make this decision from the first moment.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The man had blocked her way outside and said, \u201cHow can you refuse? Don\u2019t you realize the outcome?\u201d And she had replied with an asperity he had not expected, \u201cFor me any outcome is preferable to being married to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
After finishing her studies, she had wanted something to do to fill her spare time, so she had worked as a teacher. Chances to marry had come time, but she had turned her back on them all.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes no one please you?\u201d her mother asked her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know what I am doing,\u201d she had said gently.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut time is going by.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLet it go as it pleases, I am content.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Day by day she becomes older. She avoids love, fears it. With all her strength she hopes that life will pass calmly, peacefully, rather than happily. She goes on persuading herself that happiness is not confined to love and motherhood. Never has she regretted her firm decision. Who knows what the morrow holds? But she was certainly unhappy that he could again make his appearance in her life, that she would be dealing with him day after day, and that he would be making of the past a living and painful present.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Then, the first time he was alone with her in his room, he asked her, \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
She answered coldly, \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated slightly before inquiring, \u201d Have you not\u2026I mean, did you get married\u201d<\/p>\n
In the tone of someone intent on cutting short a conversation, she said \u201cI told you, I am fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The important piece of news that the new headmaster had arrived spread through the school. She heard of it in the women teachers\u2019 common room as she was casting a final glance at the day\u2019s lessons. There was no getting Read More …<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-80532","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80532","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=80532"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/80532\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=80532"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=80532"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.benedictsol.com\/blogs\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=80532"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}