You may
watch the box where the good man of the inn keeps fish alive for
his kitchen, one oily ripple following another over the top of the
yellow deal. And you can hear a splashing and a prattle of voices
from the shed under the old kirk, where the village women wash and
wash all day among the fish and water-lilies. It seems as if linen
washed there should be specially cool and sweet.
We have come here for the river. And no sooner have we all bathed
than we board the two shallops and push off gaily, and go gliding
under the trees and gathering a great treasure of water-lilies.
Some one sings; some trail their hands in the cool water; some lean
over the gunwale to see the image of the tall poplars far below,
and the shadow of the boat, with the balanced oars and their own
head protruded, glide smoothly over the yellow floor of the stream.
At last, the day declining--all silent and happy, and up to the
knees in the wet lilies--we punt slowly back again to the landing-
place beside the bridge. There is a wish for solitude on all. One
hides himself in the arbour with a cigarette; another goes a walk
in the country with Cocardon; a third inspects the church. And it
is not till dinner is on the table, and the inn's best wine goes
round from glass to glass, that we begin to throw off the restraint
and fuse once more into a jolly fellowship.
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