'Shall we bathe this morning?' she said, suddenly looking at them all.
'Splendid,' said Joshua. 'It is a perfect morning.' 'Oh, it is beautiful,' said Fraulein.
'Yes, let us bathe,' said the Italian woman.
'We have no bathing suits,' said Gerald.
'Have mine,' said Alexander. 'I must go to church and read the lessons.
They expect me.' 'Are you a Christian?' asked the Italian Countess, with sudden
interest.
'No,' said Alexander. 'I'm not. But I believe in keeping up the old
institutions.' 'They are so beautiful,' said Fraulein daintily.
'Oh, they are,' cried Miss Bradley.
They all trailed out on to the lawn. It was a sunny, soft morning in
early summer, when life ran in the world subtly, like a reminiscence.
The church bells were ringing a little way off, not a cloud was in the
sky, the swans were like lilies on the water below, the peacocks walked
with long, prancing steps across the shadow and into the sunshine of
the grass. One wanted to swoon into the by-gone perfection of it all.
'Good-bye,' called Alexander, waving his gloves cheerily, and he
disappeared behind the bushes, on his way to church.
'Now,' said Hermione, 'shall we all bathe?' 'I won't,' said Ursula.
'You don't want to?' said Hermione, looking at her slowly.
'No. I don't want to,' said Ursula.
'Nor I,' said Gudrun.
'What about my suit?' asked Gerald.
'I don't know,' laughed Hermione, with an odd, amused intonation. 'Will
a handkerchief do--a large handkerchief?' 'That will do,' said Gerald.
'Come along then,' sang Hermione.
The first to run across the lawn was the little Italian, small and like
a cat, her white legs twinkling as she went, ducking slightly her head,
that was tied in a gold silk kerchief. She tripped through the gate and
down the grass, and stood, like a tiny figure of ivory and bronze, at
the water's edge, having dropped off her towelling, watching the swans,
which came up in surprise. Then out ran Miss Bradley, like a large,
soft plum in her dark-blue suit. Then Gerald came, a scarlet silk
kerchief round his loins, his towels over his arms. He seemed to flaunt
himself a little in the sun, lingering and laughing, strolling easily,
looking white but natural in his nakedness. Then came Sir Joshua, in an
overcoat, and lastly Hermione, striding with stiff grace from out of a
great mantle of purple silk, her head tied up in purple and gold.
Handsome was her stiff, long body, her straight-stepping white legs,
there was a static magnificence about her as she let the cloak float
loosely away from her striding. She crossed the lawn like some strange
memory, and passed slowly and statelily towards the water.