“The Guest,” a short story by French author and philosopher Albert Camus, was first published in 1957 in his only short story collection, Exile and the Kingdom. Having also published The Stranger, The Plague, The Myth of Sisyphus, and The Fall, Camus, an existentialist writer who wrote extensively in support of the French Resistance, was awarded the Nobel prize in Literature in 1957. In crafting his works, Camus took inspiration from French Algeria, where he was born and spent his youth. “The Guest” remains a complex and multifaceted exploration of the tensions that were mounting towards the end of the French colonial period in Algeria. This study guide refers to the story as published in Exile and the Kingdom and translated by Justin O’Brien.

Daru, a French schoolmaster born and raised in a remote, sparsely populated desert region in the Atlas Mountains of French colonial Algeria, glimpses a horseman and a pedestrian laboriously making their way towards his hillside schoolhouse as they traverse the plateau that meets the incline. In the distance, he makes out the horse’s strained breath in the frigid air as the beast stumbles on uneven stones covered with “a layer of dirty white snow” that has fallen during an unexpected October blizzard (65).

As Daru grabs a sweater from the schoolroom, he reflects on the previous eight-month drought, which has decimated what few crops could be cultivated in his region’s inhospitable soil and has killed off local livestock, as well as humans. Just three days earlier, after the interminably long stretch of blazing heat, the intense snowfall hit out of nowhere without even a light rainfall to announce the transition from one extreme meteorological event to another. Fortunately, the French administration regularly drops off food rations, which he in turn distributes to local families to keep them nourished.

His schoolroom, whose blackboard displays a drawing of France’s four rivers, is devoid of students due to the blizzard. Despite the simplicity of his lodging—the two-room structure houses both the school and his living quarters—the region’s treacherous conditions, and his monastic lifestyle, Daru feels “like a lord” compared to the impoverished, food insecure families scattered around the area (66).

Returning to his window to track the men’s progress, Daru makes out Balducci, an older Corsican police officer, on the horse, accompanied by an Arab prisoner in traditional regional garb with his head lowered and hands bound. When the men arrive, the schoolmaster welcomes them and prepares tea, in following with local custom. Upon extending a cup of tea to the prisoner, Daru displays discomfort at the Arab’s bound hands and requests permission from Balducci to untie them. The silent prisoner’s feverish, penetrating gaze fixes the schoolteacher’s eyes as the latter frees the Arab’s hands so that he can cold the cup of tea.

Once his visitors are settled, Daru inquires as to their destination; he appears perplexed when the gendarme indicates the schoolhouse. The latter further explains that he’ll be leaving promptly and that the schoolteacher is to escort the Arab to French authorities in Tinguit, the nearest town. Initially convinced that Balducci is joking, Daru asserts that transporting prisoners doesn’t fall into the purview of his job description. Retorting that “[i]n wartime people do all kinds of jobs” (67), the gendarme explains that, given the limited size of his staff, he must return to his post without delay. As Balducci repeats his official order—“It’s an order, son, and I repeat it” (69)—the schoolteacher bristles, emphatically refusing to acquiesce. A tense debate ensues between the men.

Asked for details about the Arab’s crime, Balducci claims that the man reportedly murdered his cousin during a squabble over grain, after which he was hidden by his fellow villagers prior to being apprehended by the police. The gendarme explains the urgency of the man’s transfer to Tinguit: His village is astir and wants to reclaim him. Daru also asks if the Arab—who doesn’t speak French—holds anti-French sentiment. The gendarme expresses doubt, adding that one can never know for sure. Voicing his disgust at the prisoner’s violent crime, Daru reiterates his refusal to adhere to orders, though he does concede to house the prisoner for the night. After some hesitation, Balducci decides that, rather than turn in Daru for insubordination, he’ll accept the latter’s signing a form stating that he has completed his assigned task of delivering the prisoner to the schoolhouse. At first, Daru resists signing the document, but he eventually complies.

Prior to leaving, Balducci moves to retie the Arab but is met with the schoolmaster’s resistance. Astonished at Daru’s resolve given that the prisoner could pose a threat to his security, Balducci asks if Daru owns a firearm, offering his revolver; unfazed, the schoolteacher replies that his shotgun is buried somewhere in a trunk. Finally, the insulted Balducci leaves in a huff.

With the gendarme gone, Daru orders the prisoner in Arabic to wait in the schoolroom while he goes to nap in his room, grabbing the revolver along the way. After resting, Daru hears nothing from the adjoining classroom and feels a surge of pure joy at the prospect that perhaps the Arab has escaped, thereby liberating him from having to decide the man’s fate. Alas, the immobile prisoner has remained in the spot where Daru left him.

As evening approaches, Daru fashions a makeshift bed for the Arab and begins supper preparations. The two men chat for the first time, with the Arab asking what will happen to him and if Daru is his judge. Surprised that Daru eats alongside him, the Arab confusedly answers a few simple questions about his crime as the two men settle down for the night. Feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable with the prisoner in his room, where he’s accustomed to being alone, Daru has trouble falling asleep. During the night, he hears the Arab stir as he makes his way outside. Again hoping that he’ll escape, Daru is disappointed when he realizes that the prisoner has simply gone outside to relieve himself.

In the morning, the rising sun begins to melt patches of snow on the ground. The Arab washes as Daru prepares a package of food for the journey. Initially refusing to budge, the man starts walking when the schoolmaster joins him. Daru thinks he hears noise from around the schoolhouse and briefly returns, not finding anybody. After two hours, the men come to a crossroads, where Daru offers the Arab food and some money, indicating the route to the police station in Tinguit towards the east as well as a southbound path leading to an area inhabited by Berbers who will welcome him and offer protection. Visibly agitated, the Arab attempts to speak but is silenced by Daru, who bids the man farewell and heads back to the schoolhouse.

As he walks, Daru turns around to find the prisoner still standing in the same spot where he left him. Looking back towards the Arab a bit later, he sees nobody. Panicked, Daru retraces his steps under the blazing sun, sweating profusely as he reaches the area where he left the man. From atop the hill, he glimpses the prisoner walking towards Tinguit. Upon returning to the schoolhouse, Daru finds an ominous message clumsily inscribed among the French rivers adorning the blackboard: “You handed over our brother. You will pay for this” (74). In the vast landscape of his homeland, the schoolteacher is overwhelmed with angst and solitude.