Notes: As Romano is now learning Spanish, all normal dialogue from here on out will be spoken in Spanish, unless otherwise noted. Any other languages will be written in the actual language (French, etc).

Chapter 3

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Miss Emma had said to expect Señor Carriedo at the end of the month, after four short weeks. However, the weeks stretched, becoming not one, but two months, and Romano had yet to meet his new employer.

His days were filled with cleaning, reading, writing, and speaking. Emma focused mostly on teaching him to speak Spanish well, and everything else was secondary. While they cleaned, Emma would teach him Spanish vocabulary. La limpieza, the cleaning. La basura, the trash. La escoba, the broom. Por favor, limpiar los pisos. Please mop the floors. Emma made him repeat each word and command several times as they did a specific chore.

By the end of his first week, Romano also knew a few basic greetings and responses. Buenas tardes, señor. Good evening, sir. ¿Cómo está usted? How are you? ¿Puedo tomar su abrigo? May I take your coat? He was forced to practice such phrases hundreds of times a day, as he would address Señor Carriedo with these.

Romano would have loved to keep speaking Italian with Emma, but she argued that immersion was the best way to learn, so she spoke only Spanish most of the time. Over the growing weeks, Romano reluctantly began responding only in Spanish, too, though sometimes he slipped back into his native tongue by accident, or if he didn't understand something.

He supposed it could be worse. He could be learning German. Or French.

At least Italian and Spanish shared the same writing system, similar alphabets, and even some of the same words.

While Romano practiced, muttering to himself in Spanish, he tried to improve his cleaning. But no matter how hard he tried, his skills (or lack of) did not change. He would, of course, eventually get the job done, but not without a few missteps along the way. He was prone to knocking over bookshelves, spilling the water buckets, dropping chicken eggs, and sneezing onto newly-cleaned surfaces. It didn't help that he always grew tired around three in the afternoon, when he would stop to take a daily siesta (a word Romano was happy to learn meant the same in both Italian and Spanish). Emma did her best to keep Romano motivated, always promising that it was just an accident and that he would get better. However, he could see her brows furrow slightly as her lips would turn down. Even she was beginning to think it was a lost cause.

He redeemed himself with the gardening, though. Under Romano's green thumb, the fruits and vegetables began to flourish, even if it was their off-season. Emma noted that the tomatoes, especially, were the best she had ever seen, almost even rivaling the señor's. Romano quite enjoyed his hour or two in the garden each day, looking forward to it after a morning of cleaning and learning. Of course, the garden was no exception to his education, so even here, Romano would mutter the plant names to himself. Tomates, berenjenas, fresas, zanahorias... Romano picked up food terms faster than anything else.

In the evenings, he and Emma would retire to one of the smaller sitting rooms, where they had a makeshift classroom. They would review the new words and phrases from the morning, and then they would practice a bit of reading and writing. Emma had found an Italian book of fairytales in one of her trunks, which Romano was learning to read from, first in Italian, and then they would translate a passage into Spanish. The woman also had several other Italian textbooks from her time spent in Italy. Romano's letters were large and shaky at first, but over the weeks, they grew smaller and were penned with stronger hands.

The day after Romano's arrival, Emma had kept her word and gone shopping. She'd left Romano at the mansion, promising to take him another day. She had returned that evening, arms laden with baskets full of food and cloth.

She had immediately taken his measurements and set to work making him new clothes. Romano had never seen such fine fabrics, even though he was certain these were plain in comparison to the señor's rich robes. Emma sewed several shirts for him, as well as some pairs of breeches and a few vests. He was allowed to keep the socks from Lux, five pairs in total. "You'll have to wear Lux's old shoes for now," she told him. They would go shopping for shoes another day, as Romano would need to be properly fitted.

She had also brought home wheat, which Romano practically drooled over. He had to wait until the following day to actually make the pasta, since Emma felt it was too late that night. So the very next morning, Romano was up early, eager to begin the tedious process of grinding the wheat into flour. Emma had offered to buy ready-made flour, but Romano had really wanted to do it himself, almost as if he was back home in Italy using wheat he had grown on the farm. The grinding process took a fair amount of time, so long, in fact, that Emma made him promise to use flour next time as to eliminate this step altogether. Although he wouldn't have the same satisfaction, after looking at his tired hands, Romano readily agreed.

After the ground flour was ready, Romano added the eggs and began to knead. From there, it was just a matter of kneading dough and then shaping it into pasta. And with the ready-made flour speeding up the process, they could have pasta once, sometimes twice a week! Emma encouraged Romano's culinary intuitions, telling him to experiment with various pasta shapes and sauces; usually, the pasta turned out well. Romano's favorite pasta addition?

Tomates.

Tomatoes had to be God's gift to the earth. Romano had never tasted anything better. He wanted to add tomatoes to everything. He ate so many tomatoes that they had to extend the fruit's section in the garden. He ate them on bread, in pasta, with eggs, with beef... Sometimes, he would even eat them as a snack, biting straight into the juicy skin. Romano loved tomatoes.

With all of the cooking he and Emma did, Romano felt he had eaten more in the last two months than he had in his entire life on the farm, and they weren't even eating large meals! Sometimes he felt incredibly lucky to have ended up in Spain.

Not that his new diet was without complications now, though.

Eating and drinking more at dinnertime, Romano now found himself needing to use the lavatory some nights. Having to get out of bed and walk to the toilet wouldn't be a problem... except that Romano always got lost in the ridiculously large mansion.

He was too embarrassed to wake Emma and have her escort him, so Romano was forced to wander the halls alone, opening every unlocked door and hoping it was the right one. However, many of the halls were interconnected, so he was always getting confused on where he had been before. Had he passed the flowery painting already? No, wait, this was a different painting... right? Romano could never remember. After wandering for almost an hour sometimes, he would eventually find his room again and finally return to bed, willing himself to hold it until the morning.

It never worked.

At least twice a week, Romano blamed his misfortune on full-bladdered squirrels. Emma was perplexed by his stories, but she didn't pry too much; she scolded him a bit and made her help him with the laundry, but thankfully she never questioned it too much. Romano felt horrible for lying to such a sweet old lady, but his pride and embarrassment refused to let him confess.

It was only at night that Romano had trouble; during the daytime, he found the toilet much faster in the light, and sometimes Emma would go with him to help him draw a bath. He made some excuse about liking the way she did the bubbles and that he could never do it right, but Emma didn't seem to mind too much; sometimes she would even stay and help him wash his hair, if he let her (usually when he was feeling particularly guilty about wetting the bed).

The problem didn't appear to be going away any time soon, so Romano resorted to eating less at dinner, sometimes not even drinking any water at all. Emma finally noticed something was off about two months into Romano's stay.

"Are you ill, Romano?" she asked him one night. "Why haven't you been drinking anything? And why aren't you eating today?"

He flushed, looking down at his plate. He'd barely touched his food tonight. "I'm fine," he lied, barely stumbling over the Spanish words. "I'm just tired."

She frowned. "You have been studying extra hard lately. Perhaps we should just stay home tomorrow, ja?"

"No! I'm fine, Miss Emma, I promise, see?" He shoved forkfuls of potato into his mouth at an incredible rate, despite his loathing for the starchy crop.

Tomorrow, Emma was supposed to take Romano into town to buy a new pair of shoes. After wearing Lux's old ones for two months straight, he had finally torn a hole or two in both of them. Emma promised he would have at least three new pairs, two for work and one for special occasions. Romano had been looking forward to going into town, not for the excitement of shopping or meeting people, but for the new shoes; he had worn Lux's shoes down to the soles.

After a (disgusting yet) healthy meal of beef, potatoes, and water, Emma agreed to not cancel their trip. Romano miraculously managed to hold his lavatory needs until the morning, so nothing heeded their journey into town.

They exited the castle on the east side, where there was another stable, larger than the empty one by the gardens. Romano helped Miss Emma saddle the lone horse and hitch it to a small cart, which they would use to pull their purchases home. She let him sit on the horse in front of her, so that he had a nice view of the scenery.

They followed the dirt path into town, the same one Romano had taken to reach the castle during the terrible carriage ride. At the foot of the hill, the trees thinned out to reveal the village, a sleepy little town with red roofs. He could hear a chime in the distance, probably belonging to a church or school. They passed several buildings before Emma pulled the horse to a stop, tying the reigns to a pole in front of a small shop.

A tiny bell jingled as they entered. Fabrics hung from every wall, and there were shelves upon shelves with shoes of all sizes.

A young man sat lazily behind the counter, inspecting his fingernails. He didn't even look up when they entered. "Hello, welcome," he greeted, his Spanish sounding forced to even Romano's inexperienced ears. Something about the accent...

The man glanced up, spotting Emma and Romano. At once, his demeanor changed. Before, he had been uninterested in the new customers, but after seeing just whom had walked into his shop, the man was all eyes and ears.

"Ah, Emma! Comment allez-vous? Ça fait trop longtemps!" he drawled, hurrying over to embrace her.

French. The bastard was speaking French! Romano drew back behind Miss Emma, hoping to shield himself from the offending man.

"Bonjour, Francis, je l'espère vous êtes bien," the woman replied. Romano cringed; he had forgotten that Emma knew French.

The man finally released her and smiled warmly. He was impeccably dressed, though Romano could only tell this by the colorful fabrics (not the hideous outfit itself). His blond hair was even tied back with a colorful ribbon. If he hadn't heard the masculine voice, Romano might have thought that this was a woman wearing pants.

The blond spotted Romano. "Oh? Et qui est-ce?"

Emma reached back to pat Romano's head; the boy was now hiding completely behind her skirts. "This is Romano," she introduced, switching to Spanish so that he could understand. "Romano, this is Francis Bonnefoy, and he is the best tailor in town."

Francis pretended to appear modest, but he was clearly enjoying it. "Arrêtez, Emma," he laughed, waving a hand. He turned to the Italian. "Bonjour, Romano! Are you Seigneur Antoine's new servant boy, hmm? All the way from Italy, oui?" He suddenly leaned forward and pinched Romano's cheek.

"Get off me, you bastard!" he yelled, slapping at the man.

Emma gasped and scolded him for such language, and Francis yanked his hand back. He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his ponytail.

"So, how may I help you two today?"

Romano stared, seething. Of all the nationalities... why did this guy have to be French?! Romano was reminded of the creepy French priest from his old church. This fancy blond was certainly much younger, but he still gave off a similar... creep vibe. Also, how did Francis know that Romano was Italian? Just from the name alone, Romano? Or had he learned this information another way? Francis had called him Antoine's boy, too, hadn't he? Was Antoine the señor's first name? It sounded very French. Did that mean that his employer was French, too? Romano tried not to panic.

"We're here to buy Romano some new shoes," Emma explained. "I'd like two pairs for work and one dress pair, if you please."

Francis glanced at the boy's tattered footwear and nodded. "It seems you came just in time, mon cher." He turned towards the back of the room. "Gisèle! Venez ici!"

A door behind the sales counter opened, and a dark-skinned girl came stomping into the shop. She looked to be almost Romano's age, though slightly older and taller. She scowled darkly at Francis.

"Ne me dites pas quoi faire!" she argued, crossing her arms. Then she noticed Emma and Romano, who were watching curiously. "Ah! Hello," she greeted, curtsying.

Francis rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. "This boy needs shoes. You will help him find the right size, oui? I need to talk to Emma in the back."

Romano clutched Emma's skirt tightly. She wasn't really going to leave him alone out here, was she? He looked up at her, worried.

Emma patted his head again. "Don't worry, Romano. I'll be just behind that door, ja? Francis is a good friend; he usually does the shopping for me and has someone send it up to the mansion. And Gisèle will help you try on shoes to find a size that fits you best," she said reassuringly. "I'll be just around the corner, ja? Yell for me if you need anything."

She pried his fingers from her dress with a chuckle, giving him a quick squeeze. Then she followed Francis into the back room, pulling the door behind her, leaving it just ajar enough to hear Romano if he needed her.

Gisèle stared at the door for a moment before turning to Romano. She smiled and gestured to a stool in a corner. "Please sit down! I'll bring over some shoes and we will find your size, all right?"

Romano nodded slowly. He really had nothing against the girl... aside from the fact that she seemed to be French, too. Gisèle began pulling small shoes off a shelf, and Romano wondered what exactly Francis and Emma could be discussing in private.

"You called Francis a bad word," Gisèle snickered, dropping several pairs of shoes in front of him.

He blushed. "So? He was being a pervert!" Romano replied hotly. He had actually sworn in Italian, but apparently bastard was the same in both languages. Good to know.

She giggled again. "I know, he's very touchy, non? I yell at him at least twenty times a day, but he never listens. He's just affectionate."

"An affectionate pervert, maybe," he scoffed.

"Perhaps," Gisèle agreed. "But despite that, he can be kind too. He did take me in, after all, when no one else here would. They didn't like how I look or talk, or they didn't want to hire a woman. So, as aggravating as Francis is, I do appreciate everything he's done for me. Now, how about you try on this pair, oui?"

Emma sat in one of the chairs in the small storeroom, a place that served as both storage and a connecting hall between the shop and the stairs that led to Francis's apartment on the second and third floors. He had offered the older woman tea, but she had kindly refused.

"Let's make this quick, Francis. I don't think Romano takes well to strangers," she explained, smoothing her dress.

The blond sat down across from her. Emma had known Francis for almost two years, ever since he had moved to the village from France. After hearing the stories about the Carriedo castle and the mysterious lord, Francis had made the trip up the hill for a visit. The villagers loved to gossip about the Carriedo estate, but they never visited; they knew better. Francis, however, had been new in town, and he was the sort of person who just didn't know when to quit sometimes.

So, ignoring his neighbor's warnings, he had come knocking on the door one afternoon when both Emma and the señor had been home. Emma had answered, politely turning the man away. But Francis didn't know when to give up, and he kept trying to get her to let him in. The señor had finally come to investigate what was taking his housekeeper so long, and he and the Frenchman had proceeded to get into a loud argument. Emma had managed to smooth things over, and an understanding and possibly even a small acquaintanceship formed between the two men. Of course, Francis was never allowed onto the property again, and the señor never went into town, but Francis was trusted with buying the weekly groceries and having them sent up the hill with Gisèle, and Emma always stopped to visit with him whenever she came into town.

"Emma, you know I like you and even trust you, even if we do not know each other very well," Francis started, sipping his own tea. "Antoine and I have never exactly been friends, but I have never engaged in any of the town gossip, either. I know Antoine and yourself like your privacy, and I can respect that."

She started at the unexpected English, but she nodded, wondering where this was headed. Francis knew by now that she wouldn't reveal anything personal about her employer, no matter how many times he asked.

"So while I may not engage in the rumor talk with others, I do often hear such things when I go out. I find myself starting the evening looking for a beautiful woman to take home, but by the end of the night, my arm is bare and all that I have gained is more townsfolk speculation on Seigneur Carriedo." Francis set his tea aside and gave her his complete attention.

"Emma, I want you to know that I do not exactly believe in these latest rumors, but let me tell you what I have heard. In the past year, several boys from neighboring towns have gone missing." He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. "Yes, I know you have told me that all of the boys you interviewed and hired for help and were eventually dismissed, and that you have not seen them since. I personally have no idea if these missing individuals ever worked for the Carriedos or not, but I must tell you that the villagers seem to think so. Of course, if they ever decided to officially accuse Antoine, they would have to search for your previous employees and their families, but right now, it is just more gossip."

Francis cleared his throat. "They have been talking... They think Antoine is behind these disappearances."

Emma frowned. She supposed that with her boss's reputation, she shouldn't be surprised, but she also knew for a fact that Señor Carriedo was not the source of any such thing.

"Well, Francis, that is very... interesting news. Though need to I ask," she said, looking pointedly, "why the change of language? I've never heard you speak English before. You know it is not one of my main languages. So forgive my poor speaking."

"Oui, oui," he agreed, "but I did not want Gisèle overhearing us. She is quite nosy for a young lady and has yet to learn her place. I did not want her to have the chance of hearing any of this."

Emma watched his face soften as he spoke of his indentured servant. The girl had not come with him from France, but he had employed her after his mother died. She was a spirited and mischievous fourteen-year-old, and Francis's attempts at taming her went unsuccessful. But Emma could tell he liked the challenge, and she quite liked watching the two bicker, almost as if they were a married couple. Although Gisèle mockingly called Francis a pervert on numerous occasions, Emma knew that the girl was quite loyal to her boss, and therefore would probably never repeat anything she shouldn't. However, considering it was Emma's own boss they were discussing, she was grateful that Francis had been thoughtful enough to talk about such matters in a language that neither Gisèle nor Romano knew.

"Well, is that it?" she asked. "A few rumors, which are most certainly untrue, are hardly any concern, ja?"

Francis shook his head. "That's not all. About a month ago, Doctor Mathieu Williams, my cousin, was in England with his younger brother. They were trying to visit our relatives in France and had taken a ship from New York City to Portsmouth, and then they planned to go from England to France. Well, between voyages, my cousins went out to lunch, and Mathieu's younger brother Alfred was kidnapped."

Emma sat up a bit straighter at this news. She now understood why Francis was acting so serious, though what the kidnapping of his cousin had to do with the Carriedo household, she wasn't sure yet.

"That's terrible; I'm so sorry, Francis," she said, placing her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture.

"Merci," he replied, smiling sadly. Emma squeezed his arm before pulling back.

"So what does this have to do with Señor Carriedo?"

"Mathieu is understandably upset, but he could probably explain better than me..." Francis stared at her solemnly. "Emma, would you mind speaking with Mathieu yourself? You do not have to answer anything he asks that makes you feel uncomfortable, and I would never betray your trust. I have told him nothing about you or Antoine, only that you work for him. You have every right to refuse, but... please, will you speak with my cousin?"

"I... well... of course, Francis," she responded. "But... how long will it take him to get here from England?"

"He is already here," the Frenchman said, standing. "I'll fetch him now, if you don't mind."

Emma nodded hesitantly. This Doctor Williams was probably here visiting Francis, but shouldn't he be back in England, searching for his brother? She was very confused.

Francis returned shortly with another blond man in tow. He looked to be in his early twenties, around Francis's own age. He wore glasses and had one stray curl that fell over his face.

He held his hand out for Emma to shake. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Ms. Roosevelt." His voice was quiet and polite.

"Certainly, Doctor Williams."

"Matthew is fine," he said, sitting in Francis's empty chair. Francis stood off to the side, watching. "I'm sure my cousin told you that my little brother was kidnapped."

"He did," she agreed, "but how does this relate to me or the señor?"

"Alfred... he was kidnapped right in front of me," Matthew explained, a sob escaping his throat. "He was always such a curious kid... running ahead of me to look in shop windows, dragging me all across the streets, and trying to make friends with everyone we met. He's a very social and talkative child. So when I saw him talking to someone next to us on the corner that day, I thought nothing of it at first. But when we went to cross the street, I looked down and saw that Alfred was no longer there! I searched around and saw him being hauled off by that man he'd been talking to. I couldn't get a good look at the kidnapper; he was wearing a dark green cloak. But I yelled and chased after him, following them all the way to the docks. Alfred was struggling to get away, and I was trying to follow the sound of his voice, but I somehow lost them in the crowds of people at the harbor. I finally found some local law enforcement, and they searched all of the docked ships. They couldn't find Alfred or the cloaked man."

He paused for breath. "However, one ship had managed to sail away in the time it took me to get help. And that ship had set sail for Spain," he told Emma, looking at her evenly. "So here I am."

So that's why he was in Spain... Emma was beginning to put it all together. "So... naturally you asked around," she deduced. "And you eventually heard the rumors of the Carriedo estate and the missing boys, and you came here. I see... Well, unfortunately, Matthew, I have not met any American boys."

"He looks almost exactly like me, but younger," Matthew pressed. "Are you sure you didn't hire him? I'm sorry if I am offending you, but you have to understand... I just want my little brother back!"

"I understand, really, I do," she told him honestly. "But we never hired any blond or English-speaking boys. We only hired Spanish boys from nearby villages, and none of them worked out in the end, so we let them go back home. I assure you, Señor Carriedo did nothing to harm them. He's just a... disagreeable sort of man, and none of the boys worked out."

"I told you, Mathieu, I fully trust Emma and I believe when she says that Antoine had nothing to do with this," Francis chimed in, patting his cousin's shoulder. "The villagers have been gossiping about Antoine Carriedo for as long they can remember, and about his father before that, and so on. I hear all sorts of things when I go out."

Matthew let out a snort. "That's because you go to the taverns, where everyone is drunk and speaking nonsense."

Francis shrugged, and Emma laughed dryly. "The rumors fly even when they are not drunk, Matthew. Señor Carriedo... and his family have lived in that mansion for centuries, and they are very private people... Naturally the villagers make their own speculations."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully, sighing. "Thank you for listening, at least. Will you perhaps be on the lookout for any news? Francis told me that Seigneur Carriedo travels a lot; perhaps he might hear something."

"I will certainly do that," Emma offered. She bid Matthew goodbye, and he went back upstairs to the apartment. Then she and Francis returned to the store.

Gisèle had helped Romano determine his foot size, and from there, Francis showed them several pairs of shoes. Emma chose a cheaper style for Romano's work shoes; after all, he was a growing boy and would probably need new ones by the end of the year. She paid a little more for the dress shoes, since they were supposed to be nice. As they left the shop, Romano seemed to be in good spirits, or perhaps he was just happy to get away from the French people... Emma wondered what his problem with them was.

She didn't forget to scold him again for his rude language, though. Romano puffed his cheeks and turned away, but he did softly apologize.

After stopping to buy a few groceries, they finished the shopping. As they rode back to the house and away from the village, Emma looked back towards the tailor's shop and frowned. She hadn't mentioned it to Francis or Matthew, but she had her suspicions about this green-cloaked kidnapper...

Romano was rudely jostled awake the next morning. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. Dawn was barely peeking through his window. Why was Emma in his room so early?

"Romano, get up! The señor is returning home today! I just received word. Quick, get dressed and come have breakfast. We need to finish the last of the cleaning!" she ordered, pulling back his curtains. Then she laid out an outfit before hurrying from the room.

What...?

Then it clicked.

Romano leapt out of bed, throwing on his clothes. Emma had picked out his best shirt and vest, and she had even laid out his new dress shoes. He had to look nice for the first meeting with his boss, after all.

Once he was dressed and had flattened his hair as best as possible (except for that annoying lone curl), he raced down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Emma had already set a plate for him.

"Eat quickly, Romano," she urged, finishing her own food and dumping the dishes into the sink. "I have to finish cleaning the third floor, so you will have to clean the library and second west parlor by yourself, ja? Can you do that?"

He nodded, growing nervous. He wasn't afraid to clean alone, but he hadn't exactly improved, either. He was as clumsy as ever. He would just have to be very careful...

After breakfast, Emma headed upstairs to do a final sweep of the third floor and prepare the señor's rooms, while Romano headed off to the library. It was a room Señor Carriedo visited occasionally, and they hadn't cleaned it yet this week. Emma didn't want to see a single speck of dust anywhere that the señor was likely to go. He guessed they were lucky to have even received a warning. Speaking of which... the postman had come awfully early if Emma received word only this morning...

He dusted the bookshelves first, taking care to catch each and every spiderweb. Then Romano dusted all of the books, and it took quite a while. An hour later, Romano rolled the Indian rug that covered most of the floor off to the side and began mopping.

Not long after, Romano's awkwardness kicked in. He forgot to ring out the mop, and so water dripped everywhere and all over his shoes. He tried to dance around the droplets, but only ended up slipping on the soapy water and falling into the bookcase behind him. He caught the bookshelf before it crushed him, but volumes of maps and other various books fell around and on top of him. He flailed about, pushing the bookcase off of him (which thankfully wasn't too heavy) and kicking books every which way. His foot also kicked the mop bucket, spilling water all over himself and the books. He swore loudly.

Someone gasped. "What in the world...?"

The new voice was certainly not Emma's. It was smooth and rich and very Spanish. And also, very, very masculine. Romano looked up in horror from his spot on the floor, dripping wet and still holding the bookcase up.

A tall, dark-haired man stood in the doorway, gazing at the scene with confused, bright green eyes. He wore a traveling cloak over a red and gold jacket, which covered a fancy white shirt. He carried an expensive leather bag in one tan hand, and he held a tomato in the other.

Romano looked up at the man, his mouth open but no words coming out. How was he supposed to explain this? What a terrible first impression! And all of those books... ruined! He would certainly be punished, if not by Emma, then by this newcomer.

There could be no mistake. This had to be Señor Carriedo.

.

Tomates, berenjenas, fresas, zanahorias - tomatoes, eggplant, strawberries, carrots

Comment allez-vous? Ça fait trop longtemps! - How are you? It's been too long

Bonjour, Francis, je l'espère vous êtes bien - Hello, Francis, I hope you are doing well

Et qui est-ce? - Who is this?

Arrêtez - stop

Siegneur - Señor/Sir

Oui - yes

Mon cher - my dear

Venez ici - Come here

Ne me dites pas quoi faire! - Don't tell me what to do

Non - no

Merci - Thank you

and Antoine is the French version of Antonio

My Spanish teachers would be happy to know I am finally making use of my lessons... for fanfiction writing. I don't know any French, so I apologize if any of it is translated incorrectly.

I actually enjoyed reading about how to make flour and pasta, though I doubt I'll ever try it personally; sounds very messy... but I do loooove pasta.

Francis and Matthew will appear again later in the story... possibly so will Gisèle, and while I made up the name, she is a Hetalia character~ More importantly, we finally see Antonio! I'm very excited to write the upcoming chapters now that Antonio has finally joined the story :D Just as excited as I'm sure you all are to read it!

Again, thank you all for the reviews and such~ I feel very happy reading each email notification!