240 20 Now that I had returned to my own home with my wife and had celebrated the Great Feast according to custom and tradition, events started to pile up and conditions grew steadily more difficult. The jurists of the town intensified their hue and cry against me and tried to do me ill. Followers gathered all around me, and several of them were clearly inclined to my points of view. The deputy governor made a point of preventing me from holding meetings with them inside the mosque and of not allowing my students from Spain to enter the city of Sabta. Ibn Khalas, the governor, sidled his way out of correcting the situation by claiming that he was too preoccupied with other matters. This is all with regard to the country where I was residing. As for Spain itself, things were going from bad to worse for the Muslim residents: the Christian alliance had made a peace pact and was gradually closing up the cracks in its fabric. Meanwhile refugees were either descending on Granada and whatever was left of its possessions in hordes or else directly crossing the straits and heading for the Maghrib coast or the interior. Amid this hubbub of events, I snatched as many moments of seclusion in my closet as I could in order to complete the process of editing and correcting my epistles. To them I added an essay made up of my testament to my pupils and companions. I was delighted that a group of them undertook to make copies of it and distribute them to those of my followers who were interested and equally happy when one of them undertook to send it to three of my closest confidants in Granada. One month later, he came back with news that they were all safe and sound, and with a commentary on my covenant to them and other people whom I loved as they loved me; not only that, but others as well who had never met me or been close to me. When I perused this commentary, I discovered that it was A Muslim Suicide | 241 exhaustive, enlightening, and extremely useful; where I had merely alluded to things and fallen short, it provided explanation; where I had waxed too cerebral and opaque, it made things clearer—may God grant them all a just reward! Amid this hubbub, I also did my level best to keep my tribulations and concerns from my wife, for fear of somehow diminishing her lively spirit and radiant self. But such was her innate sensitivity and intelligence that she sometimes noticed the frowns and anxious expressions on my face. She would then ask me what was the matter. “Were I to tell you what is the matter, my darling, and go into detail, you’d only feel sad and burst into tears. There’s been a consistent darkening of the atmosphere between myself and both political and juridical authorities, the latter of whom are bent, wherever I happen to settle, on tightening the noose around me so as to force me to give up and move somewhere else. I’ve been prevented from teaching or meeting my students in legitimate public spaces. All that and more. My dear Fayha’, how can I possibly talk to you about all of it when I cannot bear to see signs of anxiety and concern on your lovely face! That’s why I am going to make do with giving you just a few short details as a way of distracting your attention from matters that are much more serious and below the surface. “My dear beloved, I belong to the group that aspires to discover things about present and future circumstances. Every time I learn something, my consciousness expands. Every time I become more aware, I feel miserable about the corruption and sorrow that mar this lower world of ours. But I thank God who has led me to you and made of you a warm refuge and gleaming beacon.” My wife smiled at me in gratitude and pleasure. “I have discovered, ‘Abduh,” she said, “that the governor is sick in bed and very ill. Haven’t you gone to see him and check on his condition?” “I’ll certainly do that, my lady,” I replied, “if it’ll please you.” “At all events it’ll please both me and God, my dear.” Next day at noon, I headed for Ibn Khalas’s house opposite the governor’s residence. Passing...