Up it came in a swift rush, as though nothing short of the sky could stop it.

As when they were first awakened, the cakes rubbed and slid inshore over the crest of the bank, the muddy water creeping in advance and marking the way.
"Mon Dieu! But this is not nice!" "But magnificent, baron," Frona teased.

"In the meanwhile you are getting your feet wet." He retreated out of the water, and in time, for a small avalanche of cakes rattled down upon the place he had just left.

The rising water had forced the ice up till it stood breast-high above the island like a wall.
"But it will go down soon when the jam breaks.

See, even now it comes up not so swift.