When Nicolas Feuilly woke up the following morning, he was at first unsure of where he was. This was not his room in Alsace. Then he remembered he was in Paris. He sat up in his new bed and tossed off the covers. He wondered what time people in Paris woke up. They didn't have roosters to wake them, or animals to feed in the early morning.
He walked to his window and pulled back the curtains. There were some people on the streets but not near as many as yesterday afternoon. Nicolas got dressed and walked downstairs.
Rosalite wasn't there yet. He heard noises coming from his uncle's workshop. He looked inside. His uncle was at his work table, still carving the sticks. "Good morning uncle," he said.
The Fanmaker didn't say anything back. Nicolas bit his cheek. "Um… what's for breakfast? At my house my Mama used to make oats and sometimes we would have fresh eggs. What do you like to eat?"
The Fanmaker reached into his pocket and took out a coin. He set it on the table. "Go buy bread," he said. Nicolas walked over to him and took the coin. He dropped it into his pants pocket.
"Where can I buy bread?" Nicolas asked. His uncle only made a 'hmm' noise and continued carving.
Nicolas walked out of the workshop. Rosalite was still not there, so he decided to try to find a bakery on his own. He walked out of the fan shop and onto the Paris street. There must be a bakery near here or he wouldn't have sent me out, Nicolas thought. But he didn't know which way to turn.
He thought he'd ask someone but everyone around him looked busy. They were all going somewhere and didn't want to be bothered. Nicolas started walking down the street, looking at all the shops. There seemed to be a shop that sold everything. Everything except bread.
After a few blocks, he reached a park. He ran to it, happy to feel his feet on grass. At the park, a few children played and some old women sat on a bench together. Nicolas looked around, suddenly forgetting which way the fan shop was.
He felt a finger tap him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a boy about his age looked at him. "Are you lost?" the boy asked.
"Kind of. Do you know the way to a bakery?" Nicolas asked.
"Sure I do," the boy said. "There's one right by the cheese shop. That's where I'm going. You can come with me if you like."
"Thank you," Nicolas said. "I'm not from around here. I don't know my way around yet."
"Are you a traveler?" The other boy asked.
"No," Nicolas said. "I am here to live with my uncle. I just got here yesterday."
They walked out of the park and started down the street. "Where are you from?" the other boy asked.
"Alsace," Nicolas said. "Near Strasbourg. We had a cottage in the county. My Mother just died and I had to move here."
"Sorry about that. It must be really different here than in the country. What's your name?"
"Nicolas. Nicolas Feuilly."
The boy reached out his hand. "It's nice to meet you Feuilly. I'm called Bahorel. How old are you?"
"I'm twelve," Nicolas said.
"Thirteen," Bahorel said. He started kicking a rock on the path. "I live in an apartment down the way." He pointed down the road.
"I live above a fan shop. I'm not sure where it is right now."
"Is it the fan shop with the red sign?" Bahorel asked.
"Yes, I believe."
"Isn't that where The Fanmaker lives?" Bahorel asked. "I didn't think he had a nephew, or any family for that matter. I heard he sits in his workshop all day and never speaks to anyone."
"He is my uncle," Nicolas said. "He can speak, he just doesn't speak very much. He's very shy I think."
Bahorel stopped in front of a bakery shop. "Here we are," he said. "The bakery. I better get going. Your fan shop is right down the road that way. I'll see you around, Feuilly."
"Thank you, goodbye," Nicolas said. He walked into the bakery and up to the counter. "I would like some bread," he said. He set his coin on the counter.
"What kind of bread?" the man behind the counter asked.
Nicolas didn't know there was different kind of bread. Agathe only knew how to make one kind of bread. "Just normal bread," Nicolas said.
The man turned and took a loaf of bread from the shelf. "Is this alright?" He asked.
The bread was a lot longer than the bread Agathe used to make, but everything in Paris seemed larger so he thought the bread seemed right. "Yes," Nicolas said. "Thank you." He took the bread from him and left the shop.
He walked down the road the way Bahorel told him to go and about a block later he came across the fan shop. It was a lot closer than he thought it would be, he had just turned the wrong way at first.
Nicolas opened the fan shop door and walked inside. Rosalite was now there standing behind the counter. "Good morning, Nicolas, where have you been?" She asked.
"The bakery," Nicolas said. "And the park. I've been all over the place, actually. My uncle gave me money to get bread and I kind of got lost."
Rosalite shook her head. "The Fanmaker has no idea how to raise a child," She muttered.
Nicolas took a piece off of the end of the baguette and ate it. "I like Paris bread," He said.
Rosalite noticed the book on the end of the counter. "Oh, Nicolas," she said. "I almost forgot. I brought these from my house. They are my old books my Father used to teach me to read. I thought you might want them, and I don't use them anymore. It might give you something to do."
"Thank you," Nicolas said. He took the book off counter and started flipping through the tattered pages. He could tell what the pictures were but the words seemed like nonsense to him. The only book he had at his old home was an old Bible that only Agathe knew how to read.
In Alsace, Nicolas didn't need to know how to read. He knew he'd grow up to be a farmer, and reading wasn't required. Now that he was in Paris, reading seemed more necessary. He couldn't even read the bakery sign. He decided that he would teach himself to read, no matter what it took. He ate another piece of bread and smiled.