Getting a toddler uphill requires either a crane or a compelling narrative. The Observer has neither, so they crouch down and inform Flavio, very seriously, that the boutonnière is most powerful when pointed at the church bells. Flavio stares. This is either the most interesting thing he has heard today, or he simply approves of the dramaturgy. He turns and marches uphill. Aurora follows, having quietly decided that wherever Flavio is going probably has better things to eat. The ascent takes twelve minutes and involves one beetle examination, two lampposts circumnavigated as obstacles, and a pause on the fourth step when Aurora sits down to rest her legs and absolutely no one may hurry her. They arrive through a side door just as the organ opens a long, resonant chord. Uncle Gianni spots them. His moustache telegraphs relief, alarm, and profound gratitude in rapid sequence. The twins fold themselves into the nearest pew. The vows begin.