8-th of April 1792, Easter Sunday, late afternoonAgustin had received a basket of ham, some breadrolls, pastries and a small bottle of wine from the seamstress Thurenza had introduced him to. His Provensal friend Fernand had brought him coloured eggs and little Easter cakes with eggs inside. They were small, fitting one egg only, but somehow similar with the traditional French Gache de Paques, as some of the traditions weren't as different between the two countries. Since he had in those two baskets more than one person could eat, he looked around, first and foremost, for Giuseppe, to share them with him. But his friend was nowhere to be found.
He saw, however, one of the French priests, arrived to the monastery not too long ago. He seemed sad and longing. Would a Christian Easter blessings-filled gesture draw him a smile instead?
Agustin knew him from view. The church, the garden, the refectory and the dormitories weren;t as big as not to have seen your neighbours. But he hadn;t talked yet with him. Well, he couldn't boast about having talked with ALL the Benedictine friars either, even if he was here for some years.
Now he approached the man, who was about the same age as him, and said, in an hesitating French language with some Venetian accent:
"Joyeuses Paques! I have an Easter gift for you, welcoming you to Venice in a traditional way. And please forgive my rusty French - it's just lack of practice. Maybe we are going to remedy this too."
First he offered the traditional cake with an egg in it, not knowing that it had a French counterpart.