Otherwise you might have just a voice, flanked by seraphic wings.

Some such fanciful creation must have been in your mind for Sister Mary Seraphine; for, until I made mention of the noble Knight who had arrived in Worcester distraught with anguish of heart by reason of his loss, you had decided leanings toward tacitly allowing flight.

Therefore it was not the fact of the broken vows, but the idea of Seraphine wedded to the brave Crusader, which so greatly roused your ire." The Prioress stood silent.

Her hot anger cooled, enveloped in the chill mantle of self-revelation and self-scorn.
It seemed to her that the gentle words of the Bishop indeed expressed the truth far more correctly than he knew.
The thought of Hugh, consoling himself with some foolish, vain, unworthy, little Seraphine, had stung with intolerable pain.
Yet, how should she, the cause of his despair, begrudge him any comfort he might find in the love of another?
Then, suddenly, the Prioress knelt at the feet of the Bishop.
"Forgive me, most Reverend Father," she said.

"I did wrong to be angry." Symon of Worcester extended his hand, and the Prioress kissed the ring.
As she withdrew her lips from the precious stone, she saw it blood-red and sparkling, as the juice of purple grapes in a goblet.
The Bishop laid his biretta once more upon the table, and smiled very tenderly on the Prioress, as he motioned her to rise from her knees and to resume her seat.
"You did right to be angry, my daughter," he said.