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Updated: May 8, 2025
So the vraicquing festival ended; and that night Ellenor sobbed herself to sleep, a passionate weary creature, too proud to bend to God and turn to goodness. It was November; and one evening as Perrin Corbet was crossing a hill on his return home from fishing, he thought he heard a low moaning. He stopped and listened.
Every woman had brought gâche, biscuits and special vraicquing cakes: while the rich farmers had provided a plentiful supply of cider which had been brought down in little barrels swung to the carts. It was a merry time, and Blaisette Le Mierre was looked upon as the queen of the feast. Very few spoke to Ellenor, for she was shunned as a marked character.
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