Gliding softly by his side, she swam on with the light rustling of a bird flying across the copse, or else she would circle round him, a prey to vague disquietude which she did not comprehend.
He himself darted quickly away if he happened to brush against her.
The river was now but a source of enervating intoxication, voluptuous languor, which disturbed them strangely.

When they emerged from their bath they felt dizzy, weary, and drowsy.

Fortunately, the girl declared one evening that she would bathe no more, as the cold water made the blood run to her head.

And it was in all truth and innocence that she said this.
Then their long conversations began anew.

The dangers to which the innocence of their love had lately been exposed had left no other trace in Silvere's mind than great admiration for Miette's physical strength.
She had learned to swim in a fortnight, and often, when they raced together, he had seen her stem the current with a stroke as rapid as his own.