Abdelkarim had taken refuge in silence and inertia; occasionally the Maronite would stop dancing and look at him, as though wanting to pull him out of that state, or Abdelkarim would lose patience with himself and leap out of it, beating his feet on the floor like a whip, imbuing the strokes with the violence of his reply – unspeakable questions and pledges. Abdelkarim feared his master’s wrath, and tried to predict what Émile might want to do next. He concentrated, redirecting his gaze from his feet so as to meet his master’s gaze. Was he disappointed? The Maronite began beating the floor with his heels more violently, first one, then the other. Then he leapt into the air and struck the floor with both heels. His dancing was feverish.
Abdelkarim’s uncle had signed the marriage contract a
