During the journey along the Lake of the Four Cantons, that fatal road, Astrid suddenly confided to me in Swedish:
"Say nothing to Leopold, but I have lost my mascotte, you know, that little wooden ball I always wear on my bracelet...to touch wood. Leopold gave it to me and I always wear it in the car, always. And now that I have lost it, that really bothers me."
"But it is nothing but superstition. It must surely be somewhere in the car, we'll check soon."
"If only you knew how nervous it makes me, even if it is only superstition. I am very attached to this object."
We never found the little wooden ball. It was, obviously, only superstition, but I remember very well that incident, and the route bordering the magnificent lake.
(Astrid, mon amie, 2005, p. 180)