The carnival in 1910

“Hurry up Cyrus - you're going to miss the flower battle!" Cyrus was not ready. His cousin Agénor could carry on hurrying him along but there was no way he was going to go down now. They had only just got back from the parade and it was already time to set off again. Perhaps it would be a better idea to rest for a while. What mattered now was being on top form for the evening, for the kasécò. Agénor appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. "You'll be able to see your schoolmistress again," Agénor teased him. "Er yes. Anyway, can you tell me if you see my beret?” Of course he was going to see Amélina. She would be escorting him to the grajé* and, who knows, perhaps they would even win the dance competition. He had managed to find his hat. “Are you going to the Château or Casino-Théâtre this evening?" Agénor was teasing: the Château was much too expensive for him. "And you intend to go and see your betrothed empty-handed?" Cyrus froze. What? For once Agénor had hit the nail on the head. He could not go and see Amélina like that. He had fond memories of the time they had shared the galette des rois at Epiphany. He had won the figurine, she was his Queen – and a Queen ought to be showered in gifts. Cyrus was distraught. Agénor was looking at him with a smile on his face. “Djab*! So it's becoming serious. Stay calm, dear cousin. Look at this advert in the newspaper; I’m sure you’ll find what you’re after there. Ah yes, sorry...” Agénor was the only one in the family who kn......