As for poor old Montaigne, I have been out of harmony with him ever since, nor have I wanted him in the intimate case at my elbow.
After a long time in the forest, and the sun having reached the high heavens, I gathered up my pack and set forth again along the slope of the hills--not hurrying, just drifting and enjoying every sight and sound.

And thus walking I came in sight, through the trees, of a glistening pool of water and made my way straight toward it.
A more charming spot I have rarely seen.

In some former time an old mill had stood at the foot of the little valley, and a ruinous stone dam still held the water in a deep, quiet pond between two round hills.
Above it a brook ran down through the woods, and below, with a pleasant musical sound, the water dripped over the mossy stone lips of the dam and fell into the rocky pool below.

Nature had long ago healed the wounds of men; she had half-covered the ruined mill with verdure, had softened the stone walls of the dam with mosses and lichens, and had crept down the steep hillside and was now leaning so far out over the pool that she could see her reflection in the quiet water.
Near the upper end of the pond I found a clear white sand-bank, where no doubt a thousand fishermen had stood, half hidden by the willows, to cast for trout in the pool below.

I intended merely to drink and moisten my face, but as I knelt by the pool and saw my reflection in the clear water wanted something more than that! In a moment I had thrown aside my bag and clothes and found myself wading naked into the water.
It was cold! I stood a moment there in the sunny air, the great world open around me, shuddering, for I dreaded the plunge--and then with a run, a shout and a splash I took the deep water.