Once the door was closed, Clowee became more enthralled by Bastjan's room, which was filled with trinkets that were foreign to her.
"Is this your room?" She asked with enthusiasm, although she already knew the answer. She moved slowly, twirling to have a full view of the room's interior.
"Oh, is something in your ears? Of course, this is my room." Bastjan confirmed, with mild sarcasm in his tone, that the little girl had not grasped.
Clowee was deep in her enchantment, scouring at the objects on Bastjan's wall—even touching some like the decorative hooks for fishing. "What is this shiny thing?" She wondered, enthused and amused.
"Be careful with that!" The little boy scolded, and he immediately took her hand away from the hook. "Can't you see that that is sharp?"
Clowee's eye widened, a bit surprised by his suddenness. "I—I am sorry." She then said while her hand was still enclosed in his. "It is pretty, that is why—"
"It is for fishing. Since now you know what these are, you are not to touch any of these."
"Why make it beautiful then?"
"Oh, be done with your questions now!" Bastjan finally exclaimed as he removed his fur cap, pulling the faux dog ears.
"I knew it! You have the same hair colour as Sinjur Pawlu! I saw some twirls peaking through the furs." Clowee giggled as she confidently took over his bed.
Seeing this, Bastjan felt defeated—it was as if a wild beast ransacked his fortress. Yet this beast came in the form of a foolish little girl who came out of nowhere. Her scent, the fibres of her furs, all of her was now imprinted on his bed that he treasured especially with his blanket that his dear mother made for him. "No." He mumbled. "What are you doing there!"
The little girl coquetishly tilted her head and painted wonderment onto her beautiful face. "Why? I want to sleep."
"Well, sleep anywhere but not my bed!" Bastjan retorted as he went to her and grabbed her hand, trying to pull her out of his bed.
"No!" Clowee peevishly defied. "I am going to sleep here, and you cannot do anything about it." She teased more as she pulled her arms back and removed her fur cap, revealing her long, curly black hair. "Sweet dreams, Sinjur!"
"Hey—" And before he could remove Clowee, the little girl closed her eyes and was immediately flying to dreamland. "Don't you close your eyes on me!" Though he was loud, the little girl was never bothered, truly deep in her slumber.
Bastjan grunted and frowned at the little girl on his bed, but what could he do? Thinking how his space was now tainted, he let out a sigh and waved a white flag at the situation as he sat on the floor beside the bed. Well, he might be haughty at that moment, but a spark of his gentle character seeped through as he took Clowee's fur cap, neatly placed it on the table, and carefully pulled the blanket over her, tucking her in. After that, he rolled his eyes and sat back on the floor while he ironically grumbled protests against his lovely guest, continuing with his carving that halted when he heard his aunt and Clowee's arrival.
Minutes after, Bastjan was still fidgeting with his knife and the wood he was carving on, while Clowee remained asleep. A knock sounded by the door, after which peeped Pawlu as he slowly opened the door, greeting in a hush, "Is the little girl asleep?"
Bastjan nodded before he raised his head to look at him. "On my bed, unfortunately." Once he met his father's gaze, he pouted and pointed where Clowee lay.
Pawlu entered, carefully pushing the door wide to avoid waking the little girl, and sat beside Bastjan as he went on with his carving. "Did you carve that?" He asked, amused at the artistic skill his son was showing.
Bastjan nodded again. "I was picturing a Maltese dog. Coincidentally, Clowee is also suited in a Maltese dog fur suit."
"Ah, maybe it is meant to be, my boy. Perhaps you have foreseen her coming. By the way, I decided to invite little Clowee to our hunting tomorrow."
The little boy's jaw dropped. Looking up to his father, his eyes did not fail in displaying his disdain towards what he had just told him. "What?" He exclaimed, a note of disbelief in his voice. "I do not want to! I mean, she is a girl—"
"And you have a little sister who will soon also join us. Maybe she might not hold a bow and arrow, but Fawstina and Gakobb are soon going to join the hunt." Pawlu reminded his son, who had his arms crossed and stared deeply into the void.
"But I don't want her to join us." Bastjan was steadfast, prompting his father to move closer to him and place a hand on his shoulder.
"Now, Bastjan, what is with this behaviour? Your mother and I taught you the ways of becoming a gentleman, and you seem to be incensed with little Clowee?" There was no immediate response from Bastjan, who remained still and probably contemplated what he had said. Observing him closely, Pawlu understood this was only just a childish jealousy brewing inside Bastjan. A normal disposition of a growing child, but still needed to be calmly addressed. "Alright, my boy. I think I understand what you are feeling. Clowee is a friend and our guest. Remember what your mama used to tell us? Our house is open to everyone, especially those in need and innocent. Clowee came here because, as your zija told me, her mother has a lot on her plate right now. Now, can you spare a little resignation for her?" Pawlu pulled his son closer to him, gestured for him to sit on his lap as he waited for his response.
It was seconds before the little could give his answer, and at the same moment, Clowee tossed and turned in her sleep, causing the father and son to be more cautious not to wake her up. "Well," Bastjan began to whisper, "I guess I can try to tolerate her."
"Not only tolerate, Bastjan, but be hospitable. You know your mama will be happy if she sees you being a gentleman to Clowee." Pawlu added, even emphasising being a good-mannered boy.
Bastjan sighed, conceding in quietude to his father's request. "Alright." He finally muttered.
Later on, when luncheon was ready, Clowee woke up from her nap and slowly rose to wash her face with a water-filled basin on the side table.
After washing her face and wiping it dry with a cloth, the door opened, and Bastjan entered. There was no smile, no greeting, the little boy just looked at her and said, "Food is ready."
Clowee turned her head at him, smiling with glowing crimson on her cheeks. "Alright." She then followed Bastjan towards the dining room.
Once everyone was settled in their seats, said grace, and made the sign of the cross, the feast started, with humble meals on the table. There was soup, some meats, butter, cheese, and even the bread the baker's wife gifted was neatly sliced so everyone could have a piece.
"Can I have some soup, Alessandra?" Clowee politely asked as she handed her little bowl to her nursemaid.
"Oh, of course, my love! Here..." Alessandra gave Clowee a bowl full of soup and placed a piece of bread and cheese on her plate. " Do you need more, my dear?"
Clowee shook her head. "No, this is all fine. Thank you!"
"You're welcome, my love."
While buttering his bread, Pawlu gently tapped Bastjan's shoulder and gestured to the bowl of pomegranates that was beside the plate of meats. As their eyes met, he hoped that the little boy understood what he tried to suggest.
And Bastjan did understand…
He frowned at first, but was then reminded of his mother, always nudging him to be a gentleman. Setting aside pride, he took the bowl of pomegranates and offered it to Clowee, "Would you like some pomegranates?"
Clowee beamed and took one. "Yes! Thank you, Bastjan."
"You're welcome." He responded, labouring to make a jolly note.
A faint smile curved on the side of Pawlu's mouth, marking his satisfaction at Bastjan's benign approach.
Later, when the soup bowl was almost empty, Pawlu informed everyone about tomorrow's hunting, inviting his sister and little Clowee.
Alessandra was glad but begged his pardon since she planned to reorganise things in her little home, and would also love to babysit the twins. "Do forgive me, Pawlu, but thank you for the invitation. Nevertheless, little Clowee would love that, do you, my dear?"
There was a twinkle in Clowee's golden eyes. She had never been hunting before, except hearing about the sport whenever her dear papa came home from one. "We have pigeons and partridges, my love." King Gennaru, her papa, told her. "Do forgive your papa for coming home late… One of the carriages bringing our prey got its wheel stuck in the mud! But fret not, my love, for here is a bundle of centaury flowers for you. Perfect shade of crimson."
"Thank you, papa!" Clowee responded—giggling and smiling from ear to ear. "Mama loved crimson!"
"And your mama will love it if you put it in a vase."
"Papa, I want to place this in the chapel!"
"All the better." After pinching her cheeks, King Gennaru kissed his sweet little daughter's forehead.
Clowee felt elated, even though she knew she disapproved of hunting birds. However, she cherished seeing flowers and fruits she could gather and take back to Alessandra.
"Do you want to join us, little one?" Pawlu asked, smiling.
"Yes, Sinjur! I would love to join you. But…" She lowered her gaze, fidgeted with her fingers, and bit her lips before she walked towards him and whispered to his ear, "I do not like to see birds being shot, Sinjur."
Pawlu understood her and wrapped her in a warm embrace as he told her, "Do not worry, Bastjan will accompany you to a grotto where you can pick some flowers."
"I love picking flowers!" Clowee gleefully exclaimed, making Pawlu and Alessandra chuckle.
"Well, we have to dust off your fur suit, dear. We need to look our best even if we are going to prance around the grotto." Alessandra said as she wiped Clowee's mouth once she sat on her lap.
Bastjan, on the other hand, was silent throughout the whole conversation. He hated the fact that he was now to babysit Clowee at the grotto instead of joining his father in shooting some birds. "Ugh! I hate her!" He told himself, quietly stalking Clowee everywhere she moved around the table. "Mama, do I really have to be a gentleman?" He looked up at the ceiling and pondered his mother's teachings of being a good boy.