“Yes, I see,” I said. “It was as exciting as hunting big game.”

“Precisely.” He shook his head. “Those were the days. I suppose I thought if the war hadn’t killed me, nothing could kill me.” He drifted off suddenly, into his memories, locking me out.

“You confronted the woman?”

He nodded.

“Confronted her and impressed her, and then bribed her beyond her wildest dreams. I told her I wanted to become her apprentice. I swore on my knees to her that I wanted to learn, that I wouldn’t leave until I’d penetrated the mystery, and learned all that I could.” He gave a little laugh. “I’m not sure this woman had ever encountered an anthropologist, even an amateur, and I suppose that is what I might have been called. Whatever, I stayed a year in Rio. And believe you me, that was the most remarkable year of my life. I only left Rio finally, because I knew if I didn’t, I never would. David Talbot the Englishman would have been no more.”

“You learned how to summon the spirits?”

He nodded. Again, he was remembering, seeing images I couldn’t see. He was troubled, faintly sad. “I wrote it all down,” he said finally. “It’s in the files at the Motherhouse. Many, many have read the story over the years.”

“Never tempted to publish it?”

“Can’t do it. It’s part of being in the Talamasca. We never publish outside.”

“You’re afraid you’ve wasted your life, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m not, really … Though what I said earlier is true. I haven’t cracked the secrets of the universe. I’ve never even passed the point I reached in Brazil. Oh, there were shocking revelations afterwards. I remember the first night I read the files on the vampires, how incredulous I was, and then those strange moments when I went down into the vaults and picked through the evidence. But in the end it was like Candomble. I only penetrated so far.”

“Believe me, I know. David, the world is meant to remain a mystery. If there is any explanation, we are not meant to hit upon it, of that much I’m sure.”

“I think you’re right,” he said sadly.

“And I think you’re more afraid of death than you will admit. You’ve taken a stubborn tack with me, a moral one, and I don’t blame you. Maybe you’re old enough and wise enough to really know you don’t want to be one of us. But don’t go talking about death as if it’s going to give you answers. I suspect death is awful. You just stop and there’s no more life, and no more chance to know anything at all.”

“No. I can’t agree with you there, Lestat,” he said. “I simply can’t.” He was gazing at the tiger again, and then he said, “Somebody formed the fearful symmetry, Lestat. Somebody had to. The tiger and the lamb … it couldn’t have happened all by itself.”

I shook my head. “More intelligence went into the creation of that old poem, David, than ever went into the creation of the world. You sound like an Episcopalian. But I know what you’re saying. I’ve thought it from time to time myself. Stupidly simple. There has to be something to all this. There has to be! So many missing pieces. The more you consider it, the more atheists begin to sound like religious fanatics. But I think it’s a delusion. It is all process and nothing more.”