“I thought you were all-knowing. No, not in men nor in wild animals nor, does it seem, from the evidence Paul’s collected, in anything except John Cave. Sex does not happen for him.”
“Oh,” said Clarissa, exhaling slowly, significantly, inscrutably. She abandoned her first line of attack to ask: “But you are crazy about Iris, aren’t you? That’s what I’d intended, you know, when I brought you two together.”
“I thought it was to bring me into Cave’s orbit.”
“That, too, but somehow I saw you and Iris ... well, you’re obviously going to give me no satisfaction so I shall be forced to investigate on my own.”
“Not to sound too auctorial, too worried, do you think it will get Cave across? the introduction here?”
“I see no reason why not. Look at the enormous success of those books with tides like 'Eternal Bliss Can Be Yours for the Asking’ or 'Happiness at Your Beck-and-Call.’”
“I’m a little more ambitious.”
“Not in the least. But the end served is the same. You got down the main line of Cave’s thinking, if it can be called thinking. And your book, along with his presence, should have an extraordinary effect.”
“Do you really think so? I’ve begun to doubt.”
“Indeed I do. They are waiting ... all those sad millions who want to believe will find him exactly right for their purposes. He exists only to be believed in. He’s a natural idol ... did you know that when Constantine moved his court to the East, his heirs were trained by Eastern courtiers to behave like idols and when his son came in triumph back to Rome (what a day that was! hot, but exciting) he rode for hours through the crowded streets without once moving a finger or changing expression, a perfectly trained god. We were all so impressed ...”