Vincent summoned Simon Fournier and Bertrand Duret and had them move the boy Voclang to a room. Then he went to meet Eugène Lacroix, who had called for him. Eugène’s single request to Vincent was this: do not let the Babineau family know about the boy’s condition.

The boy was not a servant of Villa Efrysia. The Babineaus would not particularly care how Eugène Lacroix treated him. Even so, there was no need to let them know he had locked the boy in the attic or refused to let him ride inside the carriage. Young Marquis Lacroix had a cheerful, open image in public, and he didn’t want his reputation damaged over a mere boy.

Vincent accepted a few gold coins from Eugène and kept his mouth shut. Bertrand Duret had shed tears at the sight of the boy’s condition, and Simon Fournier had gone pale, but that was all. Bertrand, being nothing more than a gardener’s assistant, had no power to stand against Eugène Lacroix’s unjust treatment, and Simon was reluctant to have the boy draw Beatrice Babineau’s attention.

And so Eugène Lacroix’s atrocities were neatly erased as though they had never happened. Cora Babineau knew all the circumstances, but she too said nothing. It was because of what Maya Mangt had repeatedly told her after she woke.

‘It’s all because of you, Miss.’

‘Young Marquis Lacroix is venting his frustration on Voclang because you refused to obey him.’

‘All of this happened because you refused to comply with him.’

‘From now on, don’t go anywhere near Voclang. If the Young Marquis gets the wrong idea again, he might actually be beaten to death.’

Maya might have been right. No, she was right. Eugène hated it when Cora Babineau defended the boy, and the more she tried to stop him, the more he tormented the boy. And in the end, he had nearly killed him.

So it was right to keep her distance from the boy as much as possible. At least while Eugène Lacroix was staying at Villa Efrysia, that was what she had to do. If she didn’t, Eugène would use the boy’s body as a target again, find an excuse, and lock him in the attic.

“Oh, next week is Cora’s birthday.”

Beatrice Babineau looked at Eugène with a meaningful gaze. Eugène Lacroix set down the porcelain cup with its remaining crème glacée without a second thought. He straightened his upper body and composed himself.

“I am well aware, Madame.”

Coming to Cappera had been his purpose from the start, to attend the birthday banquet for Cora Babineau. More precisely, to propose to her during the banquet. Everyone in the room except Cora knew that.

“Cora was born on the blessed day the Holy Mother ascended to heaven. So I have no doubt that my granddaughter has received the Holy Mother’s grace.”

“Quite right.”

Eugène agreed warmly. Unlike her son Mathieu, his affectionate and attentive manner made Beatrice unable to hide her pleasure. She clicked her tongue once at Mathieu Babineau’s sullen face and turned her gaze back to Eugène.

“It seems the young people go down to the village the evening before the feast day.”

“There are festivals all across Gallia. I’ve heard there’s a celebration here as well.”

“So why don’t you take your friends and Cora down to the village festival that day?”

“The village festival, you say?”

In Gallia, Easter, the Feast of the Assumption, and Christmas were the grandest holidays. Unlike Ingrind, which followed the national church, or Prosen, where Protestantism was flourishing, the people of Gallia had been devout followers of the Romia papacy for thousands of years.

Holidays were days to be celebrated regardless of rank, so even Lutes nobles held balls on the eve of the Feast of the Assumption. Eugène, who had naturally assumed the same would happen in Cappera, couldn’t hide his surprise and asked again.

“Of course, a proper banquet must be held at the villa on the feast day itself. It is Cora’s birthday, after all. But wouldn’t it be nice to get into the spirit a day early? I asked the servants and they say it’s quite lively. On that day, even the servants here are given leave, with only a minimum number kept on.”

“I see.”

“Before Robert died, he kept suggesting we go down and see it, and I always refused. I couldn’t bring myself to mingle with commoners, being of noble standing.”

“……”

“But thinking about it now, Robert was someone who had enjoyed those kinds of festivals before receiving his title, so perhaps he was longing for those days. I never understood that side of him.”

“……”

“You, as the Lacroix heir, probably can’t understand it either. Even so, I somehow wanted to ask, which is why I brought it up. Cora takes after Robert more than she takes after me, so she might enjoy that sort of thing.”

Beatrice Babineau had been born into a powerful family in the Empire of Rus, but she married Robert Babineau and became the wife of a Gallian businessman, and later a countess. Society people mocked Robert for his merchant origins, but Beatrice had used that fact freely to her advantage. When necessary, she would expose a weakness first to shut the other person’s mouth and achieve her purpose.

“I would be glad to.”

And the seasoned Beatrice applied that same technique to Eugène Lacroix and drew out his agreement. When she made a request while invoking her humble origins, stiff-necked nobles would be caught off guard and find themselves being led along by her, and Eugène was no different.

Eugène was noble to the bone and would surely dislike it, but Beatrice was Cora Babineau’s grandmother, not Eugène’s. She remembered an occasion when Cora had briefly let slip her curiosity about the village festival.

“What is it that Mademoiselle Babineau would like to experience?”

“……”

Eugène naturally steered the conversation toward Cora. Until then, Cora had been only half-listening to the exchange between Beatrice and Eugène, preoccupied with worry about the boy.

“On the eve of the Feast of the Assumption. Is there something you’d like to do at the festival?”

Cora only blinked, so Eugène kindly repeated the question. He was not so lacking in judgment as to point out Cora’s inattentiveness in front of the former Countess.

“Vincent.”

Beatrice Babineau called the butler at that moment. The butler, who had been standing back, hurried forward and bowed his head before her.

“Yes, Madame.”

“What do they do at the festival in the village?”

“The most popular thing is the play. A traveling troupe comes to perform, and people of all ages attend, I’m told.”

“What kind of play do they put on?”

“From the posters I saw, this year they’re performing ‘Dido.'”

“‘Dido’?”

The old woman gave a short, derisive laugh. It was a rather refined choice for a traveling troupe. Though it was surely nothing more than a popular drama with the opera libretto freely altered and all manner of vulgar elements thrown in.

“Dido herself would faint in the underworld.”

“Indeed she would.”

Eugène laughed in response to her joke. Mathieu was scratching the back of his head with boredom, and Cora listened to the butler’s explanation without much reaction. Eugène Lacroix was the true hero of this tedious teatime, this L’heure du thé.

“What else is there, Vincent?”

“Ah, there is an event called the ‘War of Flowers.’ The girls of Cappera ride on flower floats in a procession and throw flowers to the spectators.”

“Flowers?”

“Yes. Marigolds are used to honor the Holy Mother.”

“How interesting. And?”

“Street food is sold at the night market as well. The common people of Cappera enjoy fried squid and octopus from the Mediterranean Sea, skewered on sticks. They also press juice from oranges, lemons, and pomegranates to sell. Visitors from other places are said to love it.”

“Never mind that. Eating things sold at a market stall might lead to food poisoning, like Simon Fournier’s grandson. Is there anything else?”

“When it grows late, people gather on the beach and release sky lanterns. They write wishes on them and send them up to the heavens where the Holy Mother resides……”

Beatrice furrowed her brow and waved her hand. The butler retreated in quick small steps and returned to his place.

“Watching the play sounds like it could be enjoyable. What do you think, Mademoiselle?”

“The play?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen ‘Dido’ as a play myself. I’ve seen it as an opera at the Imperial Theater in Lutes.”

“It sounds like it would be fun.”

Cora replied, habitually wiping the droplets from her glass. She had been the one to tell her grandmother she wanted to see the festival, but she hadn’t intended to go with Eugène Lacroix. Up until she went to Nicaea, up until Eugène had appeared, she had been meeting the boy every day for lessons and had grown close to him. So she had been planning to ask whether he would slip out of the villa with her in secret to see the festival, if he was willing.

The festival was held the day before Cora Babineau’s birthday, and she had intended to celebrate the boy’s birthday together with her own on that day. She had wanted to give him her birthday, for someone who had never once been celebrated because he didn’t know when he was born. But none of that held any meaning now. Cora would not acknowledge the boy for the time being. She didn’t want to make things harder for him.