Prologue
Once upon a time, in the enchanted kingdom of Valdor, a king, Theobald, and his queen, Ismene, gave birth to a daughter, whom they named Aurora.
The princess grew up in the luxury of the palace, enveloped in the love of her dear parents, who regarded her as the apple of their eye. A single one of her dresses was worth more than all the splendors of any provincial lord, no matter how powerful.
She blossomed in beauty, grace, and talents, amidst pleasures, respect, and expectations: she already inspired love; her bosom was forming; and what a bosom! White, firm, sculpted like that of a fertility goddess; and what eyes! What eyelids! What golden brows! What flames shone in her two pupils, outshining the twinkling of the stars!, as the poets of the Kingdom said. The maids who dressed and undressed her fell into ecstasy gazing at her from front and back; and all men would have wished to be in their place.
She was betrothed to Prince Adam, heir to the kingdom of Cerulea: what a prince! As handsome as she, full of sweetness and charm, brilliant in wit and burning with love; she loved him as one loves for the first (or almost) time, with idolatry, with passion. The wedding was prepared: it was a display of unparalleled pomp and magnificence; there were feasts, continuous troubadour performances; and all of Valdor composed verses for her, of varying quality.
She would have reached the moment of her happiness, had a sinister threat, a shadow looming over her honor and reputation, not weighed so heavily on her radiant future...
Note: this prologue is largely inspired by a passage from Candide (1759) by Voltaire (Story of the Old Woman).
