And then, through the rain and the gloom, Pierre appeared. His horse was still in motion as he threw himself from her back and ran to me, picking me up with his hands around my waist, dragging me out of the water. I must have weighed twice my usual amount, my clothes were drenched through and sodden with seawater. Thank God at least I don’t wear foolish skirts and layers of petticoats, I was heavy enough to carry in my trousers. Pierre held me in his arms like a baby, clutching me close to him.

“You’re freezing!” he said.

“I know that!” I stammered in reply. And he laughed at this, but it was a high-pitched anxious laugh. Because now that he had found me, our troubles were clearly not over yet. The waters were still rising.

“Where is Babette?” I asked. For I could see now that this horse was another grey mare from our stables.

“Babette is wounded,” Pierre said. “It all went wrong. The bulls … I had trouble with them. They went wild. I was trying to control them and they charged us down. Babette got gored by one of them as we drove them through the gates. I had to ask one of the gardians to exchange horses with me and take her back to Flamants Roses while I came to look for you.”

As he told me this he was holding me tight to his chest, trying to use his body heat to thaw my cold bones. It was working. I could feel his heart beating hard against my own and little by little the feeling was flowing back into my fingers once more.

“There’s no basket on your saddle,” I observed.

“Can you ride astride, do you think?” Pierre asked hopefully. “I’ll double you in front of me. This horse is a good one, she will get us home …”

I realised what he meant to do, to take me back with him now. “Pierre, I can’t go,” I said. “Loulou’s foal is too weak to leave behind. If we abandon him in this storm, he will die.”