Bishop Guillaume Varsy sprinted into the northern entrance of Notre Dame from the Place de l’Evêché, his cassock pulled away from his scurrying feet by his left hand, his right snapped tight to his capello on his head. He leapt nimbly around a pair of visiting Parisians, calling an apology to them as he dived into the cool shadows of the Cathedral depths.
Ahead arrangements for the Mass for Peace were almost complete. The ambulatory for the choir had been decked with flowers and olive branches, woven with flair and skill around the shimmering marble and intricately carved wood of the raised platform before the nave where the congregated masses would sit. At the very end of the central aisle, resting bowed on his walking stick, Cardinal Bishop Monteria watched the final proceedings with a reverent look, entranced by the moving and beautiful testament to peace which had been erected before him. So captivated he was by what he saw that he only heard Varsy’s cries when the young Bishop was a few strides from him.
“Good heavens!” Monteria exclaimed, staggering back at the sight of Bishop Varsy charging towards him, his hand reaching out for a pew behind where he stood in case he needed support. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Cardinal Monteria!” cheered the Bishop, beaming a broad white smile as he fought to catch his breath from his wild charge across the city. “The President! The President of France!”
“What about him?” retorted Monteria, thinking for the moment that the Bishop had been drinking, such was his level of excitement.
“President Raymond Poincaré!”
“Yes, I know who our President is!” he snapped. “What about him?”
“I have just received notice that he is to attend the Mass.”
At this news, Cardinal Monteria did stumble backwards, catching himself against the pew.
“The President?” he muttered, his mouth wide. “Coming to the Mass?”
Varsy nodded inanely, like a child asked if they wished to dine on a plate of sugared bonbons for their supper.
Monteria settled himself into the pew, his hand to his chest.
“Everything,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He looked up, his old eyes sparkling with renewed vigour and youth. “Everything is progressing according to plan!”