Numbers of little rowing and sailing-boats
floated upon the slow current, peopled by couples and parties in
their Sunday clothes, their talk and merry laughter sounding across
the water to the shore. A sailing-boat passed quite close to the
terrace on its way to the Fahrhaus. A young boatman handled the
sails, a little boy was steering, and in the stern sat a young man
and a pretty rosy girl, their arms affectionately intertwined,
softly singing, "Life let us cherish." Malvine smiled as she caught
sight of the little idyll, and turning to Wilhelm, who was gazing
dreamily into the quiet sunny beauty of the surrounding scene: "Can
you imagine any more delightful occupation on a spring day like
this," she said, "than to go love-making like those two little
people over there?"
A shadow passed over Wilhelm's face. He saw himself lying in the
high grass under a wide-spreading tree in St. Valery, and over him
there hovered a white hand that strewed him with fresh blossoms.
At that instant they heard a little frightened cry, followed
immediately by a second one, and then a gurgle. Both sprang to their
feet, and Malvine uttered a piercing shriek of terror. Right in
front of them, not more than a step from the terrace, they saw Willy
in the midst of a whirl of foam which he had churned up round him
with his desperate, struggling little limbs.
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