"Dong, dong, dong..."
When Georgiana emerged from underground, the church bells began to ring.
The clear, soaring chimes were distant and solemn, their humming echoes rolling through the world beneath the setting sun.
"It is time for evening prayers," Bonaparte said to Georgiana. "Will you pray?"
Georgiana could not tell whether he was mocking her, but she still walked before the altar. She did not make the sign of the cross, yet she clasped her hands and closed her eyes in prayer.
"Ave Maria, gratia plena..."
When she opened her eyes and turned around, she found everyone standing silently without speaking. Their gazes were fixed upon the empty altar, so no one had noticed what she was doing—except one person.
Canova had been staring at her the whole time. His gaze made Georgiana deeply uncomfortable, so she turned back and resumed praying.
Albus, you really should come and see this. After the priest's daughter, there is now a witch here who knows how to pray.
After a while, she lowered her hands and turned to look at Napoleoni. He was standing with his back to the light, his face shrouded in shadow, and she could not make out his expression.
By then, everyone else had silently left.
"I asked Menou why he did not send troops to suppress the Vendémiaire Uprising," Bonaparte said. "I asked Pizzaro of Venice the same question. He told me that the Venetian army had still been somewhat useful in the days of Louis XII and Francis I, but now that the entire populace had been armed, they could not help at all. Pizzaro still chose neutrality, so I told him, fine. Since your republic has chosen neutrality, I agree. But it must stop distributing weapons to peasants and townspeople. I forgave Venice for its conduct