She crossed the lawn like some strange memory, and passed slowly and statelily towards the water.
There were three ponds, in terraces descending the valley, large and smooth and beautiful, lying in the sun.

The water ran over a little stone wall, over small rocks, splashing down from one pond to the level below.

The swans had gone out on to the opposite bank, the reeds smelled sweet, a faint breeze touched the skin.
Gerald had dived in, after Sir Joshua, and had swum to the end of the pond.

There he climbed out and sat on the wall.

There was a dive, and the little Countess was swimming like a rat, to join him.