“When I was young I tried everything,” he confessed, “to purge the evil within me. Prayer. Fasting. Mortification of the flesh. Would you believe I even tried abstinence? A wretched experiment, but from it I learned that chastity is the only perversion known to man.”

His eyes burned in the light of the brass lamp. A flicker of keen satisfaction settled over his face—that part of it uncluttered by the beard—as he explored the depth of his depravity. His bronzy voice held a certain swagger, the secret pride of the truly unrepentant that was at discord with his testament.

“I stupefied myself,” he went on, “with drink and drugs, seeking salvation and a Sign, finding no gladness, no Jesus-joy in them. I was like a grimy old wino, yearning to bathe in the Lamb’s blood of the Lord, draining instead the bitter dregs of self-estrangement and a lost faith.

“Somewhere along that road to ruin I seem to have suffered a loss of memory. One Sunday morning I couldn’t find my church. I realized I only liked it when it was empty.

“I had physical problems. My hair fell out. My face sprouted pimples. As a Protestant, I found myself oddly engaged—praying to Guido von Eichbuchl, patron saint of sinners with boils.

“I had to start afresh, to walk the lonely places of the earth, to find myself by losing myself. So I came here; I haven’t had a sleepless night since I got off the boat. Would you believe my hair started growing again? That clerical collar, like a noose, was cutting off circulation to my brain. I discovered that there is indeed life before death, and that it is good and meaningful. Withdrawing from the world, I became part of it, became what I am today—a peaceful and a happy man.”

“You simply showed up one morning and they accepted you, no questions asked?”

“At first they were a bit suspicious, even hostile you might say. But as soon as I understood something of their customs I was able to fit in, even contribute. So it wasn’t entirely a one-way street. I paid my dues. I filled a gaping need.”

“For what?”

“Well,” he said, “the Assos, unlike the Muslims, take rather a dim view of virginity. They find defloration not only messy but a dangerous business to be avoided if at all possible. So I volunteered for the job—somebody had to do it—and I became the more or less official virgin eradicator. It worked out fine for everyone concerned.”

“You’ve treated this aspect of the culture in your ethnography?”

“Couldn’t honestly avoid it. You’ll find it in the chapter headed ‘Stomping Out Virginity.’”

“Are there other chapters where you appear?”