All around them they heard the murmur of the Seine.
Camille having selected a dry spot, seated himself on the ground, after lifting up the skirt of his frock coat; while Therese, amid a loud crumpling of petticoats, had just flung herself among the leaves.
Laurent lay on his stomach with his chin resting on the ground.
They remained three hours in this clearing, waiting until it became cooler, to take a run in the country before dinner.

Camille talked about his office, and related silly stories; then, feeling fatigued, he let himself fall backward and went to sleep with the rim of his hat over his eyes.

Therese had closed her eyelids some time previously, feigning slumber.
Laurent, who felt wide awake, and was tired of his recumbent position, crept up behind her and kissed her shoe and ankle.

For a month his life had been chaste and this walk in the sun had set him on fire.

Here he was, in a hidden retreat, and unable to hold to his breast the woman who was really his.