Chapter 1312: Falling into the Trap
Two days later.
Archbishop Boissy leaned in, peering at the two pages in the math consultant's hand. "Well, did he get them all right?"
It was Angélique's test paper, and he couldn't make head or tail of it.
The math consultant nodded, remarking, "Your Grace, not only were they all correct, but his problem-solving approach was incredibly ingenious. My own students might not be able to do better. I can hardly believe he's only 12 years old."
Boissy gestured for the consultant to withdraw, then rubbed his hands together as he turned to Archbishop Asseline. "This child is indeed quite extraordinary. 'By the way, what's his background?'"
Archbishop Asseline turned to the priest by his side. "Father Bonai, where did you find him?"
"He's Italian," Father Bonai explained. "He originally came to Paris to study, but this summer his family's business went bankrupt. They could barely afford the rent. My nephew happens to live below him."
"Excellent!" Archbishop Boissy exclaimed, turning excitedly to Archbishop Asseline. "You truly saved my life; I will definitely repay your kindness."
"Oh, it's nothing," Archbishop Asseline replied.
Meanwhile, Father Bonai returned to his residence, wrote a secret letter, and had a subordinate deliver it to the Intelligence Bureau headquarters.
The letter, when deciphered, contained only one sentence: 'The scorpion has entered the pillowcase.'
Indeed, his other identity was an agent of the French Intelligence Bureau, and Angélique was the very person the Director of the Intelligence Bureau had instructed him to introduce to Archbishop Boissy.
Notre-Dame de Paris.
Archbishop Beaumont was about to enjoy his breakfast when his pleasant mood was disturbed by bursts of cheering outside.
"What are they shouting?" He turned to his attendant.
The attendant hurried out to check and returned a moment later, bowing. "Your Grace, it's a group of women, expressing their gratitude to the Church for establishing public kindergartens."
Beaumont frowned. "Where did they get that news?"
He quickly realized the answer. Most likely, someone at the salon that day had overheard his conversation with the Crown Prince and then leaked it to the newspapers.
He picked up his wine glass again, but then saw one of his senior priests rushing over with a newspaper, bowing to him. "Your Grace," the priest announced, "the newspaper says the Church is going to establish free public childcare facilities nationwide!"
Archbishop Beaumont waved his hand dismissively. "It's true enough; it was the Crown Prince's request. But you needn't worry; actual implementation is still a long way off."
He heard shouts of "Thank God!" and "Thank the merciful Church!" echoing from Notre Dame Square, and he found it rather amusing. Those people imagined someone would help them care for their children, unaware that even by the time their children had children of their own, Paris would likely only have three or four kindergartens.
The senior priest, however, pushed the newspaper into his hands, urging anxiously, "Please, Your Grace, just look at this first."
Archbishop Beaumont glanced at him impatiently, then opened the Paris Business Journal. He saw the headline on the front page: "The Church has promised His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, to establish public childcare facilities nationwide."
He instantly frowned and continued reading.
The article detailed the Church's significant investment to establish "Church Kindergartens" in every diocese across France. At that time, all children aged three to five would be able to enroll, receiving care while their parents worked. The cost would be merely the price of bread for two meals.
Archbishop Beaumont irritably pulled off his napkin and instructed his subordinate, "Go at once and tell Baron Denico. This matter has only just begun to be planned; he is not to report on it so extensively."
"Yes, Your Grace," the subordinate replied.
However, the next day, when Archbishop Beaumont received the Paris Business Journal, he found the front-page headline still read: "Public Kindergartens: God's Blessing to Countess Pierre."
Below, the article thoroughly analyzed the bright prospects of public kindergartens, even detailing the accommodation and dining conditions. It also stated that kindergartens were expected to cover all of France within two to three years.
Mainstream newspapers like Paris News and Citizen's Daily all reprinted the Paris Business Journal's article, some even elaborating further.
Archbishop Beaumont could no longer contain himself. He immediately ordered Denico to be summoned.
At four in the afternoon, the editor-in-chief of the Paris Business Journal arrived at Notre-Dame de Paris as arranged.
Archbishop Beaumont exchanged a few brief pleasantries with him, then took out a newspaper and tossed it in front of him. "Regarding public childcare, you must be under some misunderstanding," he declared. "This matter is merely under discussion."
Denico instantly feigned surprise. "Merely under discussion? But I heard His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, say that the Church had already promised him to promote public childcare nationwide. 'It seems I'll have to go back and verify that with His Royal Highness—'"
Archbishop Beaumont froze for a moment, then quickly waved his hand. "Oh, no, my apologies, my wording was imprecise. What I meant was, the Church is discussing the establishment of kindergartens."
"Then there's no mistake," Denico said with a smiling nod. "How could I not share such good news with everyone?"
Archbishop Beaumont was speechless with exasperation. It took him a good while to respond, "But you shouldn't fabricate rumors like 'nationwide coverage within two to three years' or 'bread and vegetables with every meal.' The Church has never made such decisions."
"You probably didn't read the article carefully," Denico said, opening the Paris Business Journal and pointing to the third line of the front page. "Look, it clearly states here—'According to journalists and experts, it is considered possible that—'"
"So these are all just speculation, assumptions, not rumors."
"Oh, if you're very concerned," Denico continued, "I will add a paragraph at the end of tomorrow's article stating that 'the above analysis has not yet been confirmed by the Church.' How does that sound?"
Archbishop Beaumont was no match for this editor, who had learned "21st-century self-media tactics" from Joseph. He felt a buzzing in his head, yet couldn't find any fault with Denico's words.
He took a deep breath and put on a smiling expression. "Baron," he began, "perhaps you could temporarily suspend reporting on public childcare. I would be deeply grateful for your cooperation."
Denico immediately pulled out a pen and paper, looking very interested. "Why do you ask me to do that?" he inquired. "Has there been any change in the public childcare plan? Or will the Church find it difficult to achieve its goal within two to three years?"
Archbishop Beaumont nearly erupted in anger. He abruptly stood up and declared, "I still have to prepare for tomorrow's Mass."
Denico regretfully stood up as well. "Then I shall take my leave," he said. "Should the opportunity arise, I hope you can tell me more about the details of public childcare."
The next day, the Paris Business Journal published the gratitude of Parisian women regarding the Church's establishment of public kindergartens, stating that they were waiting eagerly every day for their children to enter kindergarten.
Meanwhile, the Citizen's Daily began "helping" the Church plan which locations in which districts were suitable for kindergartens, how large their scale would be, projected completion times, and so on.
Public opinion throughout France was ignited. Almost every housewife was talking about kindergartens.
Yes, Joseph's goal was to put the Church on the hot seat.
Comments