The Time and the Place Read Online Free

not devoid of an extraordinary gentleness, “First, please sit down, and second, please get drunk!”
    I opened my mouth to make my excuses, but, stopping up his ears with his fingers, he said, “Not a word till you do what I say.”
    I realized I was in the presence of a capricious drunkard and told myself that I should at least humor him a bit. “Would you permit me to ask one question?” I said with a smile, sitting down.
    Without removing his hands from his ears he indicated the bottle. “When engaged in a drinking bout like this, I do not allow any conversation between myself and another unless, like me, he is drunk, otherwise all propriety is lost and mutual comprehension is rendered impossible.”
    I made a sign indicating that I did not drink.
    “That’s your lookout,” he said offhandedly. “And that’s my condition!”
    He filled me a glass, which I meekly took and drank. No sooner had the wine settled in my stomach than it seemed to ignite. I waited patiently till I had grown used to its ferocity, and said, “It’s very strong, and I think the time has come for me to ask you about—”
    Once again, however, he put his fingers in his ears. “I shan’t listen to you until you’re drunk!”
    He filled up my glass for the second time. I glanced at it in trepidation; then, overcoming my inherent objection, I drank it down at a gulp. No sooner had the wine come to rest inside me than I lost all willpower. With the third glass, I lost my memory, and with the fourth the future vanished. The world turned round about me, and I forgot why I had gone there. The man leaned toward me attentively, but I saw him—saw everything—as a mere meaningless series of colored planes. I don’t know how long it was before my head sank down onto the arm of the chair and I plunged into deep sleep. During it, I had a beautiful dream the like of which I had never experienced. I dreamed that I was in an immense garden surrounded on all sides by luxuriant trees, and the sky was nothing but stars seen between the entwined branches, all enfolded in an atmosphere like that of sunset or a sky overcast with cloud. I was lying on a small hummock of jasmine petals, more of which fell upon me like rain, while the lucent spray of a fountain unceasingly sprinkled the crown of my head and my temples. I was in a state of deep contentedness, of ecstatic serenity. An orchestra of warbling and cooing played in my ear. There was an extraordinary sense of harmony between me and my inner self, and between the two of us and the world, everything being in its rightful place, without discord or distortion. In the whole world there was no single reason for speech or movement, for the universe moved in a rapture of ecstasy. This lasted but a short while. When I openedmy eyes, consciousness struck at me like a policeman’s fist, and I saw Wanas al-Damanhouri peering at me with concern. Only a few drowsy customers were left in the bar.
    “You have slept deeply,” said my companion. “You were obviously hungry for sleep.”
    I rested my heavy head in the palms of my hands. When I took them away in astonishment and looked down at them, I found that they glistened with drops of water.
    “My head’s wet,” I protested.
    “Yes, my friend tried to rouse you,” he answered quietly.
    “Somebody saw me in this state?”
    “Don’t worry, he is a good man. Have you not heard of Sheikh Zaabalawi?”
    “Zaabalawi!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.
    “Yes,” he answered in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
    “Where is he?”
    “I don’t know where he is now. He was here and then he left.”
    I was about to run off in pursuit but found I was more exhausted than I had imagined. Collapsed over the table, I cried out in despair, “My sole reason for coming to you was to meet him! Help me to catch up with him or send someone after him.”
    The man called a vendor of prawns and asked him to seek out the sheikh and bring him back. Then he turned to me.