She and I did some fancy swimming together, while she questioned me about my health.
I did not spend any more time than I could help between the cold pool and the tepid pool; no more at least than importunate acquaintances exacted of me.
In the tepid pool I felt, somehow, weaker and more relaxed than at any time since I had gone out the previous morning.

The effect of the Emperor's favor, the effect of the cold plunge, were wearing off: mind and body were losing tone.

I swam languidly, alone, on my back and so swimming found myself about one third of the way from the upper end of the pool and about midway of its width.

I was staring up at the panels of the vaulting, relishing the beauty of the color scheme, the gold rosettes brilliant against the deep blue of the soffits, set off by the red of the coffering.
So swimming and staring my eyes roamed downward to the great round-headed coved window above the gallery.

The railing of the gallery had a sort of wicket in it, by which bathers could emerge one by one on to the bracket- like platform which overhung the pool at that end, for use as a take-off for a high dive.
Suddenly, on this diving-stand, poised for her dive, outlined against the window behind her, I recognized Vedia; Vedia, my angered sweetheart, rosy as Marcia, more lovely, and nude as Venus rising from the sea.
Seeing her thus, and seeing her thus unexpectedly, woke in me a volcanic outburst of conflicting emotions altogether too much for my weakened condition.
I fainted.
When I came to I felt weak and queer and did not at first open my eyes.