Three points or nothing

During the party organized at the circuit, Nico's weary cries echo as he watches Lewis claim victory, while a desperate voice wonders who will tell the story of a Merci Abbesse whose sin is its reliability; yet Lewis, the new lord, weeps, knowing that showing his happiness would be a mistake.

The Count of Moncet – sometimes, two opposing destinies clash, pitting two implacable rivals against each other, so that their paths cross among the abbess's guests, bringing torment to one and wild intoxication to the other.

Nico-Ten-Tongues: “Misfortune has struck me! It is the influence of the devil who has cursed my unworthy cart, burdened with an unforgivable sin, and which suddenly refuses to move forward. I find myself on foot, like a simple squire. Will you move now? But the first round is already over, and it's too late. Hope is lost; she is too indomitable for me. I am an exile, barefoot and without a mount.” Sir Lewis: “What immense joy to hear my enemy singing of nostalgia from his mighty chariot. I see Toto coming… I will feign grief to hide my joy behind a pretense. Ah, what a tragedy! Nico has been forced by fate, cursed by an inhuman destiny, to descend from his chariot and leave the arena like a fallen prince draped in his shroud.”

Nico-Ten-Tongues: “What has become of the trophies I cherished and guarded so preciously? He took them from me!” Sir Lewis: “Three points behind, you see? The Holy Trinity! You're three points behind, and everything is exhausted. Three points, perhaps, but tomorrow thirty-three. Three points behind, of course, and that's what scares you.”

Jean-Sans-Veine: “My friends, I don't care about the quarrels at the top. All that matters to a nobleman is to shine on the track, so he doesn't have to look for a steering wheel to drive the following year.”