".... when I chose her to be my bride, I was a king.  But when she chose to go with me, I was only an exile. " King Faruwq.

I told him that he must come to the point as quickly as he could.  "If it makes your task easier," I said, "I think I have an idea of what they wish to tell me.  But I must know the exact conditions they require." 

I looked at my watch.  It was 10.42 a.m.  Yet I did not feel that I needed one minute to think.  I thanked him and said, "Tell them I am ready to sign immediately.  But I make two conditions.  Firstly, the abdication papers must be formal and constitutional.  They must be prepared by lawyers and must contain no abuse.  Secondly, the revolutionaries must permit those of my loyal troops who wish to do so, to give me full military honors as I depart."

I made these two conditions for my son's sake.  The stories of kings are written not in diaries but in history books, and I did not want my own story to make bitter reading for my son.  I knew he had enemies enough who would try to rob him of his throne and his honor.

`Aliy Mahir said, "They must agree to those two conditions, sir I shall most strongly advise it."

"Unless you have a gun," I said, "I do not think you can advise these men very much."

When `Aliy Mahir had left me, I sent for my wife, and then for my three daughters.  I told them that by evening I would be exiled, and that I wanted them each to go and think quietly and sincerely about whether or not they wished to come with me. 

To my wife I said, "You must think carefully, chérie.  You must not accompany me in pity, for pity does not last, and it is better to part now than to live to hate each other."

She smiled, for she is very young, and I went on, "If you come with me I do not know if you will ever see your mother again.  You are young enough to start a new life without me."

I explained to my daughters what would happen, and that it would not be easy.

Firiyal, the eldest, said at once, "Please, Papa, take me with you."  For many months now, it had taken all my insistence to get Firiyal to visit her mother once a week, as was arranged. They had quarreled very bitterly because my ex-wife Fariydah kept attempting to turn them against me, and once Firiyal burst out, "Papa never speaks so about you, behind your back, and I do not like your doing so!"   I was told about this incident by the governess, and at the time I had tried to be stern with Firiyal about it, but I knew where her heart lay.

 Fawziyah, too, agreed at once to come with me, and did not hesitate.  Fawziyah is a gentler one, and her way of showing her feelings is more quiet than Firiyal's, but they are just as sincere. She simply said, "I want to come with you Papa," and her eyes never left mine, until I had nodded and told her, "Very well." and had given her a smile of thanks.

I might have guessed what Firiyal and Fawziyah would decide, but I was not perhaps so certain of little Fadiyah, who is eight-and-a-half years old, and who stayed with her mother according to Muslim law, until her seventh birthday.  It was possible that seven years with her mother might pull more strongly than 18 months with me.

But little Fadiyah said, "I want to come with you too, Papa - and will Ann come, too?"  Ann Chermside was Fadiyah's nurse from babyhood and is now nurse to Fuw'ad.

"Ann will come with us, dear," I said. "She is part of the family, too."
 
 

About one p.m. I received a judiciary officer, Sulayman Hafiz, with the abdication papers.  He appeared to be grieving his heart out, and I was deeply moved.  He said, "Majesty I wish I could have shot myself dead rather than bring such a paper!  Majesty,  may God forgive me and may I implore Your Majesty's forgiveness, also!"  He beseeched me to tell him if there was anything he could do to serve my cause in Egypt, and which of my friends he might contact.   I comforted him and told him the only thing I now required was that the new Government would ensure the welfare of my son.

Then I studied the abdication papers.  They were correct and dignified according to the law of Egypt.  I signed, and handed them back to Sulayman Hafiz who was still noisily sniffing back his tears.

It is of interest that this old crocodile is now Deputy Premier of the new government in Egypt, and that all his weeping display was apparently just to try and tempt me to name one of my friends to him, who might have formed the core of some group to rally the people against the revolutionaries.
 

(Story continues next month)