his
imagination. At last there was nothing to do but to make her sit
down. And then they again began to experience their former stifling
sensations. The gloomy valley of the Viorne particularly disturbed
them. When weariness brought them to the banks of the torrent, all their
childish gaiety seemed to disappear. A grey shadow floated under the
willows, like the scented crape of a woman's dress. The children felt
this crape descend warm and balmy from the voluptuous shoulders of the
night, kiss their temples and envelop them with irresistible languor. In
the distance the crickets chirped in the meadows of Sainte-Claire,
and at their feet the ripples of the Viorne sounded like lovers'
whispers--like the soft cooing of humid lips. The stars cast a rain of
sparkles from the slumbering heavens. And, amidst the throbbing of the
sky, the waters and the darkness, the children reposing on the grass
sought each other's hands and pressed them.

Silvere, who vaguely understood the danger of these ecstasies, would
sometimes jump up and propose to cross over to one of the islets left
by the low water in the middle of the stream. Both ventured forth, with
bare feet. Miette made light of the pebbles, refusing Silvere's help,
and it once happened that she sat down in the very middle of the stream;
however, there were only a few inches of water, and she escaped with
nothing worse than a wet petticoat. Then, having reached the island,
they threw themselves on the long neck of sand, their eyes on a level
with the surface of the river whose silvery scales they saw quivering
far away in the clear night. Then Miette would declare that they were
in a boat, that the island was certainly floating; she could feel it
carrying her along. The dizziness caused by the rippling of the water
amused them for a moment, and they lingered there, singing in an
undertone, like boatmen as they strike the water with their oars. At
other times, when the island had a low bank, they sat there as on a bed
of verdure, and let their bare feet dangle in the stream. And then for
hours they chatted together, swinging their legs, and splashing the
water, delighted to set a tempest raging in the peaceful pool whose
freshness cooled their fever.

These footbaths suggested a dangerous idea to Miette. Nothing would
satisfy her but a complete bath. A little above the bridge over the
Viorne there was a very convenient spot, she said, barely three or four
feet deep and quite