I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 1312 Falling into the trap
Two days later.

Archbishop Boissi peered at the two pages in the hands of his math advisor beside him: "Well, did he get them all right?"

That was Angelique's test paper, which he couldn't understand at all.

The math consultant nodded and exclaimed, "Sir, not only are they all correct, but his problem-solving approach is also incredibly ingenious. Even my students might not be able to do better. I can't believe he's only 12 years old."

Boissi gestured for the advisor to leave, then rubbed his hands together and looked at Archbishop Asserli: "This child is indeed extraordinary. By the way, what is his background?"

The latter looked at the priest beside him: "Father Bonai, where did you find him?"

“He’s Italian,” Bonai said. “He came to Paris to study, but his family business went bankrupt this summer, and he almost couldn’t even afford the rent. My nephew happens to live downstairs from him.”

"That's wonderful!" Archbishop Boissi exclaimed excitedly to Archbishop Asserli. "You have truly saved my life, and I will certainly repay you."

"Oh, it's nothing."

Archbishop Boissy reached an agreement with Angelique's family that afternoon, giving them a reward of 3 francs to get the boy into the church school in the Notre Dame cloisters, and promising him another 3 francs if he could get into the top three in a mathematics competition.

Meanwhile, Father Bonai returned to his residence, wrote a secret letter, and had his men deliver it to the intelligence headquarters.

The letter, once translated, contained only one sentence: "The scorpion has crawled into the pillowcase."

Yes, his other identity was that of an agent of the French intelligence agency, and it was the head of the intelligence agency who asked him to introduce him to Archbishop Boissy.

Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

Archbishop Beaumont was about to enjoy his breakfast when the cheers outside interrupted his enjoyment.

"What are they shouting?" He turned to look at his entourage.

The latter hurriedly went out to check, and returned a moment later, bowing and saying, "Sir, it's some women who are thanking the church for setting up a public kindergarten."

Beaumont frowned: "Where did they get this information from?"

He quickly figured out the answer: someone at the salon that day had overheard his conversation with the Crown Prince and then leaked it to the newspaper.

He picked up his wine glass again, only to see one of his senior priests rushing over with a newspaper, bowing to him and saying, "Sir, the newspaper says the church is going to establish free public childcare facilities throughout the country!"

Archbishop Beaumont waved his hand dismissively: "That is indeed the case; it was His Highness the Crown Prince's request. However, you need not worry; it's still a long way from being implemented."

He heard shouts of "Thank God!" and "Thank the merciful Church!" coming from Notre Dame Square again, and found it somewhat amusing. Those people thought someone would help them babysit their children, not realizing that even when their children had children of their own, there would probably only be three or four kindergartens left in Paris.

The high-ranking priest handed him the newspaper, saying urgently, "Please take a look at this first."

Archbishop Beaumont glanced at him impatiently, then opened the Paris Commercial Daily, where the front page headline read: The Church has promised His Highness the Crown Prince that it will establish public childcare facilities throughout the country.

He frowned immediately and continued looking down.

The article details the church's significant investment in building "church kindergartens" in parishes across France, where all children aged 3 to 5 will be able to attend and receive care while their parents are at work. The cost will be equivalent to the price of two meals of bread.

Archbishop Beaumont, annoyed, tore off his napkin and said to his subordinate, "Go immediately and tell Baron Denicco that this matter has only just begun to be planned, and tell him to stop reporting on it so extensively." "Yes, sir."

However, when Archbishop Beaumont received the Paris Commercial the next day, he found that the headline on the front page was still: Public Kindergarten, God’s Gift to Countess Pierre.

The text then provides a detailed analysis of the promising future of public kindergartens, even detailing their accommodation and dining conditions. It also states that kindergartens are expected to cover the entire country within two to three years.

Meanwhile, mainstream newspapers such as *Le Journal de Paris* and *Le Citizen* reprinted *Le Monde Paris*'s article, some even expanding upon it...

Archbishop Beaumont could no longer contain himself and immediately ordered his men to summon Denico.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the editor-in-chief of the Paris Business Daily arrived at Notre Dame Cathedral as scheduled.

Archbishop Beaumont exchanged a few brief pleasantries with him, then took out a newspaper and tossed it in front of him: "You must have some misunderstanding about public childcare. This matter is merely under discussion."

Denico exclaimed in surprise, "Just a discussion? But I heard from His Highness the Crown Prince that the Church has promised him that public childcare will be promoted throughout the country. It seems I must go back and verify this with His Highness..."

Archbishop Beaumont was taken aback, then quickly waved his hand and said, "Oh no, I didn't use the right words. What I meant was that the Church is discussing the establishment of a kindergarten."

“Then that’s it.” Denico smiled and nodded. “How could I not share this good news with everyone?”

Archbishop Beaumont was furious, and it took him a long time to reply: "But you shouldn't have fabricated rumors like 'nationwide coverage within two to three years' or 'bread and vegetables at every meal.' The Church has never made such a decision."

“You probably didn’t read the article carefully.” Denico opened the Paris Handelsblatt newspaper and pointed to the third line on the front page. “You see, it clearly says here—'According to analysis by journalists and experts, it is believed that…’”

"So these are all just speculations and assumptions, not rumors."

"Oh, if you're really bothered by that, I'll add a paragraph at the end of tomorrow's article—the above analysis hasn't been confirmed by the church yet. Is that alright with you?"

Archbishop Beaumont was no match for the editor-in-chief, who had learned "21st-century self-media tactics" from Joseph. He felt his head buzzing, but couldn't find any fault with the other man.

He took a deep breath and put on a smiling expression: "Your Excellency, perhaps you could postpone reporting on the public childcare issue, for which I would be very grateful."

Denico immediately took out paper and pen, looking very interested: "Why do you want me to do this? Is there some change in the public childcare plan? Or is it that the church will have difficulty achieving its goals within two to three years?"

Archbishop Beaumont nearly lost his temper and abruptly stood up, saying, "I still have to prepare for tomorrow's Mass."

Denico regretfully stood up as well: "Then I'll take my leave now. If there's a chance, I hope you can tell me more about the details of public childcare."

The following day, the Paris Business Daily published an article expressing the gratitude of Parisian women for the church's establishment of a public kindergarten, stating that they eagerly awaited their children's enrollment every day.

Meanwhile, the Citizens' Daily began to "help" the school plan, suggesting which neighborhoods and locations were suitable for establishing kindergartens, their size, and the expected completion time, among other things.

Public opinion across France was ablaze, with almost every housewife talking about kindergartens.

Yes, Joseph's goal was to put the church to the test.

(End of this chapter)