When Holden got up and left, she seemed anxiously waiting for something, for she repeatedly looked over at Bishop Duggan. Shaman had already spoken to the bishop at the farm and was now going to speak to him as soon as the opportunity arose.
“Excellency,” he said, “do you see, behind me, this big leather armchair with the carved armrests?”
“Your Excellency, the nuns brought this chair in a wagon across the prairie. They call it the bishop’s chair. They always dreamed that one day their spiritual shepherd would come to visit them and rest in that beautiful chair. ”Bishop Duggan nodded seriously, but winked at Shaman. “Dr. Cole, I think you will go a long way, ”he said. The bishop was a careful man.
He went to the congressman first and talked to him about the future of the military pastors after the end of the war, only a few minutes later did he approach Miriam Ferocia. “Come on, Mother Superior!”
he said. “Let’s talk a little!” He pulled a simple wooden chair next to the leather armchair and sank into the cushions with a pleasant sigh.
Soon the two were engrossed in a conversation about the affairs of the monastery. Mater Miriam Ferocia sat upright on the straight chair, and in her eyes you could see the joy that the bishop was doing so well in the chair: he sat there, almost like a king, his back leaning against the leather cushions, his hands up the carved armrests supported. Mary Peter Celestine, who was serving the pastries, noticed the radiance on her matron’s face. She glanced at Mary Benedicta, who was refilling the coffee, and they both smiled conspiratorially.