The whole letter is not much, it is full of curses for love rivals and love for lovers, and at the end there is a little literary discussion of the works of a current popular poet. However, it was an eye-opener for Carl, and he immediately understood the reason why Mrs. Loris had an ambiguous expression when she heard that he was going to work here as a scribe.

The scribes here, in addition to their work, also take the opportunity to copy and return books with some notes, hooking up with the girls who are hidden in the monastery!

Karl shook his head, folded the letter aside, took out a blank manuscript and spread it out, picked up a quill pen, dipped it in ink, and began to copy it himself.

At first, the quill pen was slightly unaccustomed, after all, Carl had always been used to writing with a fountain pen or gel pen, and he did not have a good grasp of the small quill pen. However, perhaps because the soul and body were better integrated, after a few lines of writing, he quickly adapted to the skill of writing with a quill pen, and began to write smoothly.

The tip of the pen is slightly condensed, the weight is from the heart, and the beautiful flower-style text flows out naturally like flowing water, this kind of freewheeling control of the body, the pleasure of writing at will, is something that Carl has never experienced before. He keenly felt that his ability to control his body was now much better than before.

This feeling of being able to do whatever he wants at his heart made him a little intoxicated, and he suddenly felt that copying books was not a chore, but a very happy thing.

When immersed in something, time always flies. Carl felt that he had not felt it long before he suddenly heard a melodious bell ringing throughout the monastery.

"Bell, bell, bell......"

Twelve bells in succession ring on the tallest, largest and grandest church bell tower of the monastery. Suddenly, the silence of the entire monastery was broken.

The originally quiet copyroom suddenly became noisy, and the scribes who had been writing at their desks, like students who had received a signal to end class, put down their pens, raised their heads, or stretched their waists for a long time, and then stood up and went to the courtyard to relax, or moved their somewhat sore wrists, beating their backs and shaking their necks.

A few conservatively dressed old nuns pushed away a cart containing several tall and large wooden barrels, one of which contained long, thick and black bread like a round wooden stick, and another full of thick soup of no apparent material.

The characteristic smell of fermented malt of toasted bread and the unknown aroma of thick soup immediately permeated the entire square, arousing the appetite of the hungry scribes who had already been busy all morning.

"It's time to eat, it's time to eat!"

The nuns rang the crisp little bell, like housewives calling for fed chickens and ducks, calling to the scribes, and said, "No one has a black bread or a bowl of soup!

The hungry scribes immediately put down the pen and paper in their hands and swarmed around. Soon, in front of the food truck, there was a circle in the inner and outer three floors.

Carl, who had long been accustomed to queuing for food and groceries, found that the dining car was surrounded by water, and the scribes were on tiptoe and stretched out their hands, like ducks snatching food, making a lot of noise.

"It's a ......"

Carl couldn't help but shake his head, not knowing what to make of this kind of thing. After all, not to mention the current era similar to the Middle Ages, even in modern society, there are many times when there are many places where there is no orderly queue.

"It's so unseemly!"

At this moment, someone next to Carl made a similar exclamation like him.

"Haha, Georgie, don't you feel undignified because you are too fat, you run too slowly, and you are squeezed at the back every time!"

Karl turned his head to look and saw that the first to exclaim was a young man in a bowler's hat, who looked chubby, and had a very pleasing little round face, he was wearing high trousers and a white floral shirt, and he was protesting against the slander of his companions with a straight face: "We are decent people who write scriptures with quills, we must have grace and dignity, how can we be like those rude and inferior people who do not understand culture and have no manners, and when they hear the bell of the meal, they are like chickens and ducks rushing to eat?"

And the person who talked to him was a young man wearing a leather vest and black silk trousers, who looked a little lazy. He had short black hair with slightly curly hair, blue eyes, a stiff nose, and was stretching his waist slightly, and said to his companion in a nonchalant tone: "Oh, if your demeanor can be eaten, then I do understand why you weigh more than me!"

The little fat man Qiao Ji also immediately sneered: "Franco, now I also understand why Ling Zun must send you to the Sivanatis Monastery to be an ascetic!"

"Haha, being an ascetic? I can't be an ascetic in my life!"

The handsome young man named Franco laughed and said briskly, "The world is so beautiful, the beautiful ladies are so lovely, and there are so many beautiful things in life waiting for me, how can I become an ascetic—unless, let me be a monk in the abbey of Saint-Soulèmele!"

As he spoke, he opened his arms and said in a hymn-like tone: "O Saint-Soulamel, tongue up, third voice, thou art the fire of life, thou art the light of salvation, thou art seraphim of the lost world, noble wings, brilliant eyes......"

In the third subsection of the first chapter of the second volume of the "Praise of Light", Carl naturally discovered the origin of this eulogy in his mind. At the same time, I thought of the note sandwiched in "In Praise of Light", and the object to whom the girl wrote the letter seemed to be Franco.

In line with basic professional ethics, Carl still took the initiative to inquire and asked: "Hello, you are Franco?

"Oh, which young lady is it?"

The young man named Franco did not seem to be surprised, but smiled and asked Karl, "Is it Miss Betty of the Rafa family, or Miss Elena of the Stendhal house?"

“......”

Carl was speechless, daring to love this girl who hooked up and flirted with more than one. You know, secretly using books to carry love letters is not mailing letters, and you can't send them to the other party by name, it's basically a matter of luck, whoever picks it up will read it first. Which lady's love letter can be delivered to Carl, and Franco's love letter may also be delivered to another young lady.

For the strongman who can still drag the boat without capsizing in this situation, Carl can only express his admiration.