From the fields, from the distant horizon, which she could no longer see, a solemn lingering strain, composed of all the sighs of the night, was wafted to her.
She was not of a dreamy nature; it was physically, through the medium of each of her senses, that she derived enjoyment from the sky, the river, and the play of light and shadow.

The river, in particular, bore her along with endless caresses.

When she swam against the current she was delighted to feel the stream flow rapidly against her bosom and limbs.
She dipped herself in it yet more deeply, with the water reaching to her lips, so that it might pass over her shoulders, and envelop her, from chin to feet, with flying kisses.

Then she would float, languid and quiescent, on the surface, whilst the ripples glided softly between her costume and her skin.

And she would also roll over in the still pools like a cat on a carpet; and swim from the luminous patches where the moonbeams were bathing, to the dark water shaded by the foliage, shivering the while, as though she had quitted a sunny plain and then felt the cold from the boughs falling on her neck.
She now remained quite silent in the water, and would not allow Silvere to touch her.