The Thief and the Dogs

It more than makes up for losing anything else, no matter how valuable." Helping himself to a slice of pastrami Said nodded in agreement, but without real interest in what had just been said. "And now you've come out of prison to find a new world,"

Rauf went on, refilling both glasses while Said wolfed down the hors d'oeuvres.

Glancing at his companion, Said caught a look of disgust, quickly covered by a smile. You must be mad to think he was sincere in welcoming you.

This is only superficial courtesy — doing the right thing — and will evaporate. Every kind of treachery pales beside this; what a void would then swallow up the entire world!

Rauf stretched his hand to a cigarette box adorned with Chinese characters, placed in a hollow in the illuminated pillar. "My dear Said," he said, taking a cigarette, "everything that used to spoil life's pleasures for us has now completely disappeared."

"The news astounded us in prison," Said said, his mouth full of food. "Who could have predicted such things?" He looked at Rauf, smiling. "No class war now?"

"Let there be a truce! Every struggle has its proper field of battle."

"And this magnificent drawing room," said Said looking around him, "is like a parade-ground." He saw a cold look in his companion's eyes and regretted the words instantly. Why can't your tongue ever learn to be polite?

"What do you mean?" Rauf's voice was icy.

"I mean it's a model of sophisticated taste and — "

"Don't try to be evasive," said Rauf with narrowed eyes. "Out with it. I understand you perfectly, I know you better than anybody else."

Said attempted a disarming laugh, then said, "I meant no harm at all."

"Never forget that I live by the sweat of my brow."

"I haven't doubted that for a moment. Please don't be angry."

Rauf puffed hard on his cigarette but made no further comment.

Aware that he ought to stop eating, Said said apologetically, "I haven't quite got over the atmosphere of prison. I need some time to recover my good manners and learn polite conversation. Apart from the fact that my head's still spinning from that strange meeting, when my own daughter rejected me."

Rauf's mephistophelean eyebrows lifted in what looked like silent forgiveness. When he saw Said's gaze wander from his face to the food, as if asking permission to resume eating, he said, "Help yourself," quite calmly.

Said attacked the rest of the dishes without hesitation, as if nothing had happened, until he'd wiped them clean. At this point Rauf said, a little quickly, as if he wished to end the meeting: "Things must now change completely. Have you thought about your future?"

Said lit a cigarette. "My past hasn't yet allowed me to consider the future."

"It occurs to me that there are more women in the world than men. So you mustn't let the infidelity of one lone female bother you. As for your daughter, she'll get to know you and love you one day. The important thing now is to look for a job."

Said eyed a statue of a Chinese god, a perfect embodiment of dignity and repose. "I learned tailoring in prison."

"So you want to set up a tailoring shop?" said Rauf with surprise.

"Certainly not," Said replied quietly.

"What then?"

Said looked at him. "In my whole life I've mastered only one trade."

"You're going back to burglary?" Rauf seemed almost alarmed.

"It's most rewarding, as you know."

"As I know! How the hell do I know?"

"Why are you so angry?" Said gave him a surprised look. "I meant as you know from my past. Isn't it so?"

Rauf lowered his eyes as if trying to assess the sincerity of Said's remark, clearly unable to maintain his bonhomie, and looking for a way to end the meeting. "Listen, Said. Things are no longer what they used to be. In the past you were both a thief and my friend, for reasons you well know.

Now the situation has changed. If you go back to burglary you'll be a thief and nothing else."

Dashed by Rauf's unaccommodating frankness, Said sprang to his feet. Then he stifled his agitation, sat down again, and said quietly, "All right. Choose a job that's suitable for me."

"Any job, no matter what. You do the talking, I'll listen."

"I should be happy," Said began, without obvious irony, "to work as a journalist on your paper. I'm a welleducated man and an old disciple of yours. Under your supervision I've read countless books, and you often testified to my intelligence."

Rauf shook his head impatiently, his thick black hair glistening in the brilliant light.

"This is no time for joking. You've never been a writer, and you came out of jail only yesterday.

This fooling about is wasting my time."

"So I have to choose something menial?"

"No job is menial, as long as it's honest."

Said felt utterly reckless. He ran his eyes quickly over the whole of the smart drawing room, then said bitterly, "How marvelous it is for the rich to recommend poverty to us." Rauf's reaction was to look at his watch.

"I am sure I have taken too much of your time," Said said quietly.

"Yes," said Rauf, with all the blank directness of a July sun, "I'm loaded with work!"