How naked it looked. How darkly pink the nipples. How fierce and clear his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“Really? Surely you haven’t been living as a recluse here?”

“No, I’ve seen too much of others, I think. Too many little supper parties in Bridgetown. And my friend Aaron has come and gone several times. Other members have been here.” He paused. “I can’t bear to be around them, Lestat. I can’t bear to be at Talbot Manor among the servants, pretending to be a cousin of my old self. There’s something really appalling about what’s happened. Sometimes I can’t bear to look in the mirror. But I don’t want to talk about that side of it.”

“Why not?”

“This is a temporary period, one of adjustment. These shocks will eventually pass. I have so much to do. Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come. I had a feeling you would. I almost left for Rio this morning, but I had the distinct feeling I’d see you tonight.”

“Is that so.”

“What’s the matter? Why the dark face? Why are you angry?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really require a reason to be angry these days. And I ought to be happy. I will be soon. Always happens, and after all—it’s an important night.”

He stared at me, trying to figure what I meant by these words, or more properly what was the right thing for him to reply.

“Come inside,” he said finally.

“Why not sit here on the porch in the shadows? I like the breeze.”

“Certainly, as you say.”

He went into the little room to take up the bottle of Scotch, pour himself a drink, and then he joined me at the wooden table. I had just seated myself in one of the chairs and was looking directly out over the sea.

“So what have you been doing?” I asked.

“Ah, where do I begin?” he asked. “I’ve been writing about it continuously—trying to describe all the little sensations, the new discoveries.”

“Is there any doubt that you’re securely anchored in the body?”

“None.” He took a deep drink of his Scotch. “And there seems to be no deterioration of any kind. You know, I feared that. I feared it even when you were in this body, but I didn’t want to say it. We had enough to worry about, didn’t we?” He turned and looked at me, and quite suddenly he smiled. In a low stunned voice he said, “You’re looking at a man you know from the inside out.”

“No, not really,” I said. “Tell me, how do you deal with the perception of strangers … those who don’t guess. Do women invite you into their bedrooms? What about young men?”

He looked out to the sea, and there was a little bitterness in his face suddenly. “You know the answer. I can’t make a vocation of those encounters. They mean nothing to me. I don’t say I haven’t enjoyed a few safaris into the bedroom. I have more important things to do, Lestat, far more important things to do.