Mary considers him thoughtfully for a moment. The language she was taught by her own nurses and tutors had been French. A very different language from what the boy murmurs to her. She can see, however, that he is withdrawn from her in a way unlike a child. She's sure he doesn't know what is going on around him.

And so she smiles at him, with the same warmth she had once smiled at her own child. She extends her hand a little further to reassure him that the treat is for him.

Her tone is also reassuring when she says, "It's a day for lost souls."

He doesn't need to understand what she says, not really.