Satan threw the goblet on the floor, where it snapped and flashed, but did not break.
“If I didn’t, you would.”
Sin believed him. From experience he had learned the difficulty of gauging the moods of m’lord after a few such applications had filed or smoothed the edges of his tooth-sharp temper. For safety’s sake he gave a side glance into the sensitized panel.
“Notice the size of you as compared with me—and I am supposed to be well-developed from my criminal calisthenics.”
His Highness frowned. He also “noticed.”
“Where is the value in good looks,” he conceded, “if there’s none around whom you admire to admire you?”
Old Original was quick to follow the advantage. “A word on that very subject is what I returned to say, a word of condolence and advice.”
“You offer condolence and advice to me?” The King of Evil glared at the most malapert fiend of his kingdom.
“Condolence, Sire, over your state of solitariness. Advice as to how to ease it. From my hurting envy of your appearance I realize one littleness in my largeness. Absolute admiration may endure only where envy may not spring. Why does not Your Majesty seek that companionship which is not born to jealousy? Isn’t there a complete assortment of rags and bones and hanks of hair in Gehenna’s bargain basement?”
“You suggest for me the companionship of—” Satan paused briefly to sneer—“of a female shade? Don’t you suppose, if I cared for the sex, that I’d be running a harem of all nations, stocked with every famed siren, from Helen of Troy forwards and back? You should know by this time, old weakling, that your spirit in women doesn’t appeal to me any more than to mortal profligates. And the pulchritude of most has gone by the time they get here.”