The train pulled into the station just as Magd al-Din joined Zahra. Magd al-Din saw his old friend coming toward him with one of the small baskets, which he put into the train car, then went back for the other one while Zahra’s brother carried the big basket on board.

“Take your time, Sheikh Magd,” said the stationmaster. “I’ll keep the train waiting for a bit. I want to greet you properly, my friend.”

They rushed to embrace each other. Magd al-Din wondered if his friend knew the reason for his trip today. The train let out white smoke and blew its whistle. The stationmaster also blew his whistle. Magd al-Din leaned out the window to tell Zahra’s brother, “The donkey is just before the crossing.” The train gathered speed, and the sound of the wheels grew louder.

It was only then that Magd al-Din realized that it was over, that he had been kicked out of his village, although he did have a secret desire to leave. This was something that had never happened to anyone before — at least he had never seen it in his lifetime.

The conductor came and Zahra showed him the two tickets she had purchased before Magd al-Din’s arrival. When the conductor left, Magd al-Din noticed the terror in Zahra’s eyes. He turned his eyes away from hers and noticed at the end of the car a woman around whom sat five boys and girls, barefoot and wearing old, tattered gallabiyas. He had seen this very woman and these same children on the train when he went to visit Bahi in the middle of last year. Merciful God! He did not believe it, but it had actually happened; he had seen her before that on yet another trip. It seemed that ever since he had started visiting his brother, he had seen this woman and these nearly naked, barefoot children. Despite the years that had passed, the woman and her children had not grown any older. The silence in the car was profound, with the exception of the sound of the wheels beneath them. Zahra had moved to the edge of the seat and spread out a gallabiya that she had taken from the large basket. She laid the baby to sleep on it and covered her with a black shawl from the same basket. She asked Magd al-Din to close the window tightly. It was now dark, and cold air was rushing in with the movement of the train.

How could the train ride continue? What could be said now that Zahra had laid the baby down to sleep and sat there looking at her husband who kept looking back at her, though his eyes did not seem as frightened as hers?

Zahra felt pained because she had no brother except the one who came to see her off at the station, and he was only her half-brother. Her sisters and mother could not fight the mayor. Yes, she wished she had many strong men in her family to fight the mayor, since Magd al-Din had forbidden his cousins to fight him. Magd al-Din must have feared that his sisters would become widows if their men died. But someone should have prevented them from leaving, even if he acted against Magd al-Din’s will. Since she could not offer her husband the protection that strong men in her family would have provided, she was leaving with him, broken-hearted. But she had accepted what a faithful wife had to do. The frightened look in her eyes would soon disappear, without a doubt. And it did — it changed into a look of profound compassion. She wished they would let him go back home tonight.

At about this time, he would have come back from the field, washed up and had his supper, fed the animals and rubbed them down, changed their water and put out fodder for them. He would have helped Zahra milk the water buffaloes, then performed his late-night prayers and sat alone near the kerosene lamps in their room, reading the Quran.

“Anyway, that’s what happened. Ha, ha, ha!” a coarse voice was heard.

Magd al-Din looked around to see where it came from. Zahra did not look but just sat still, silently annoyed. Magd al-Din saw the man who had spoken, a short, fat man with a faded fez. He was sitting on the edge of the seat, his feet barely touching the floor. He was speaking in utter surprise to a man who sat opposite him, farther to the side of the seat. Magd al-Din could only see his fez and the back of his neck and his white, slightly soiled shirt collar. They kept talking, and because they were close to Magd al-Din, he could hear them clearly.

“Neither France nor England would let him get away with it. It’s the beginning of a new world war.”

“That’s why I’m laughing so hard.”

“What do you mean, laughing like that? I tell you, it’s a world war, and people are going to die.”

“I mean, we’ve been transferred to work in Alexandria the very day Germany invades Poland. This can’t be just a coincidence — it’s been arranged with Hitler.”

Magd al-Din listened, surprised. He knew, from scattered talk in the village and from the big radio he rarely listened to, that there were preparations for war, that Germany was creating problems with other countries, and that people were afraid that a new war, more devastating than the previous one, might break out. He had forgotten all that in the last few days. And here it was coming back. He listened to what the two men were saying.

“I couldn’t get the evening paper in Tanta — people just snatched them away from the vendors. The radio said Warsaw has been bombarded heavily since early this morning and that German troops were invading Poland from more than one direction.”

“This is because of the greed of the European countries. It’s the war of the greedy.”

“The problem is, this war will come to us.”

“Because we’ve been transferred to Alexandria on the same day? No, of course not. There’s no reason to be so pessimistic. What does Alexandria have to do with a war in Europe?”

The conversation took what seemed a strange turn to Magd al-Din, so he took out the little Quran from his vest pocket. But before he could open it, the two were talking again.

“Alexandria itself will be the reason the war comes to it. Yes, sir — don’t forget, Italy is in Libya.”

“You think Mussolini would do it?”

“He is Hitler’s mentor — if he doesn’t join him this year, it’ll be next year.”

“Well, we’re only staying in Alexandria for a year. Besides, I doubt if the war will spread. Hitler swallowed up Czecho-slovakia and Austria before that, and nobody did anything about it. He will swallow Poland and no one will stand up to him. All of Europe is terrified, and the Soviet Union has signed a treaty with him. Besides, why should we go so far? I wish Germany or Italy, or both of them together would occupy Egypt and rid us of the English.”

The sound of the wheels died down as the train stopped in the Kafr al-Zayyat station. The two men stopped talking, the white ceiling lights came on, and the clean, yellow wooden seats now shone more brightly. A man and three little boys came into the train car. The man was well dressed, in a summer white sharkskin suit, a clean fez, and black-and-white shoes with thin, pointed tips. The boys wore blue shorts, short-sleeved white shirts, and blue suspenders with white pinstripes. They had calf-length white socks and black patent leather shoes with wide tips. They looked as if they had just stopped crying.

The man, who sat facing Magd al-Din, now placed his index finger to his lips, warning the children, who sat across from him, not to make a sound. Then Magd al-Din watched him take from his jacket pocket a golden cigarette case, which he pressed and a thin cigarette came out. He lit it and exhaled its blue smoke, closing his eyes in contentment.

The train started moving again. Magd al-Din was familiar with the following stops. In two and a half hours, the train would be in Alexandria. That’s what he had learned from his previous visits to Bahi. Would he find him doing well this time?