Time and time again that evening, it was I who encountered the limits of my prejudices and inhibitions, not he. Champagne was the only drink, and the food was an initiation into sensual rites in which I had not until then participated—oysters, turbot, lemon soufflé. Patrick converted me before the evening was over to a serious interest in Latin American Liberation Theology, an amalgam of Marxism and the Bible, which proved a most uneven body of literature. More significantly, he introduced me to its philosophical roots in the earlier transcendental Thomism of Rahner and Lonergan. In return, I persuaded him to deepen his Marxism by reassessing its relation to the works of Hegel; and, predictably, I introduced him to Rilke’s Sonnets to Orpheus.