Sitting beside one another, they picked up handfuls of sand in front of them and let it trickle through their fingers while they talked; and the warm breeze from the plains brought whiffs of lavender together with the smell of tar from a boat behind the lock. The sun shone on the cascade, and the greenish stones of the little wall over which the water was flowing seemed to be covered by a never-ending ribbon of silver gauze. Down below, a long bar of foam spurted up in rhythm, before forming bubbling whirlpools and innumerable cross-currents which ended up by merging into a single limpid sheet of water.
Louise murmured that she envied the life of fishes.
'It must be so nice to roll about in the water and feel yourself being stroked all over.'
And she shivered with a movement of voluptuous delight.
- Flaubert, Sentimental Education, trans. Robert Baldick