Father Elijah by O'Brien Michael

Author:O'Brien, Michael [O'Brien, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Spiritual & Religion
ISBN: 9780898706901
Publisher: Ignatius Press
Published: 2011-12-13T07:00:00+00:00

XIII

The Conference

The Canaletto was once considered the best restaurant in the city. It had fallen from popular favor in recent years, rivaled by the Bacciarelli in the modern Marriott and by the Wilanow, where tourists could feed, amidst hunting trophies, on roast pork in plums.

But at the Canaletto, situated in the Hotel Victoria Intercontinental on Kralewska Street, one could still dine in old-world splendor, served by waiters in bow ties, accompanied by the music of piano and harp. One could eat wild boar and snails in garlic sauce, smoked trout and mushrooms, and complete his meal with a flaming crepe.

Simplicity, silence, poverty, he thought as he entered the hotel’s main foyer. The environment of the hotel seemed the antithesis of monastic ideals. In spite of himself, he felt disgust.

An elderly maitre d’ spotted him and hurried over.

“Professor Schäfer?” he said in Polish with a French accent. “I am Philippe. Please to accompany me to the banquet room of the ristorante. Your party is waiting for you.”

It was not clear just how the man had recognized him, but Elijah followed obediently. At the door to the banquet room, the maitre d’ pinned a small red rose to the lapel of the dark blue Italian suit that Billy had purchased for him on his arrival in Rome several months before. This was the first time he had worn it, and he hated its luxuriance, hated the expense of it, and the discomfort of a costume that was so removed from the truth of his interior life that he wished to make apologies for it to whoever might listen. He shuddered at the maitre d’s touch and overcame an impulsive dislike for the man’s affected waxed white moustache, the professional eyes, the overfamiliarity of certain kinds of servants who are on a first-name basis with the famous.

Then, as the man fussed with a pin, Elijah looked at him and felt compassion. Few human beings escaped the dictates of their position, he realized; rare indeed was the soul who remained unaffected by his own public image.

“Ah, I see that monsieur is a trifle nervous. Monsieur should not be. The President is a great man, to be sure, but he is a kind man, and a man of the people. Great and small are welcome at his table”, he added with a flourish. “Ah, bon, bon, bon”, he concluded, dusting a skiff of dandruff from Elijah’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Philippe.”

Elijah entered the large dining room and saw before him a gathering of two dozen people. The President rose from the head of the table and came up to him with his arms extended. He shook Elijah’s hand warmly and once again the priest felt a wave of admiration for this man’s sense of presence.

“It is a pleasure to have you join us this evening, Father Schäfer. Are you as unprepared as I am for the talks we must give? Ah, yes, I see that you are! Then I am reassured! We are two actors with butterflies in the stomach, aren’t we?”

“Yes.

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