Summer, 1526
The light drizzle that had caught the girls in the flower field soon turned into a heavy downpour, and their long, already heavy summer dresses were soaked through. The wet hems became heavy and clinging to their legs, preventing them from running towards the castle for shelter.
– My hood! – Alienor suddenly heard behind her. Tall and long-legged, she had already managed to jump over the wide puddle that had already formed on the field, but she did not hesitate to return to her friend.
Brigid was still at the other end of this very puddle and, bending as low as her father's servants do to take his orders, was running her hands over the wet ground.
– What is there? Brigid, hurry! – shouted Alienor, but not wishing to jump over the puddle again, she remained where she was.
– My hood! It fell off my head! – replied Brigid with concern in her voice.
– Well and God with it! – tried to cheer up her friend Alienor.
– But this is my favourite… A present from my mother for my fifteenth birthday! – Brigid never stopped her search, but it was fruitless.
– We'll look for him tomorrow, I promise! – Alienor was impatient: she was shivering from the cold, and her wet dress made her feel disgusted.
– But it would be ruined! The velvet! The pearls! Everything! – Almost crying, Brigid shouted with despair. She gave up her search, straightened her back and splashed her hands.
– It won't get any worse! I'm sure your hood has got so wet that there is no need to look for it now in this mud, in this downpour! – Alienor said cheerfully, out of place. – But I promise that tomorrow we'll come back and find him together! Now let's run to the castle! Please! I'm dying of cold!
– You promise? – Brigid asked, and a happy smile shone on her face: ah, Alienor! She always manages to find the right words!
– I promise! May God take my soul if I don't fulfil my promise!
Encouraged by her friend, Brigid flung her long wet hair back from her wet face, lifted the hem of her dress, took a step forward and, suddenly slipping on a clod of sticky mud, with a silent cry of surprise, fell face down. When she hastily rose to her feet, her friend laughed merrily.
– 'Ah, my dear! You look like a real peasant woman! – Alienor exclaimed and laughed again. She realised that her friend did not like her laughter, but she could not help it: it was tearing her lungs.
