The boats one by one cast off from the landing stage.  The oarsmen bent themselves forward and then threw themselves backwards with an even swing, and under the impetus of the long curved oars, the swift skiffs glided along the river, got far away, grew smaller and finally disappeared under the other bridge, that of the railway, as they descended the stream towards La Grenouillere.  One couple only remained behind.  The young man, still almost beardless, slender, and of pale countenance, held his mistress, a thin little brunette, with the gait of a grasshopper, by the waist; and occasionally they gazed into each others eyes.  The landlord shouted: 

“Come, Mr. Paul, make haste,” and they drew near.

Of all the guests of the house, Mr. Paul was the most liked and most respected.  He paid well and punctually, while the others hung back for a long time, if indeed they did not vanish insolvent.  Besides which he acted as a sort of walking advertisement for the establishment, inasmuch as his father was a senator.  And when a stranger would inquire:  “Who on earth is that little chap who thinks so much of himself because of his girl?” some habitue would reply, half-aloud, with a mysterious and important air:  “Don’t you know?  That is Paul Baron, a senator’s son.”

And invariably the other could not restrain himself from exclaiming: 

“Poor devil!  He is not half mashed.”

Mother Grillon, a worthy and good business woman, described the young man and his companion as “her two turtle-doves,” and appeared quite moved by this passion, profitable for her house.

The couple advanced at a slow pace; the skiff, Madeleine, was ready, when at the moment of embarking therein they kissed each other, which caused the public collected on the bridge to laugh, and Mr. Paul taking the oars, they left also for La Grenonillere.

When they arrived it was just upon three o’clock and the large floating cafe overflowed with people.

The immense raft, sheltered by a tarpaulin roof, is attached to the charming island of Croissy by two narrow foot bridges, one of which leads into the center of this aquatic establishment, while the other unites its end with a tiny islet planted with a tree and surnamed “The Flower Pot,” and thence leads to land near the bath office.

Mr. Paul made fast his boat alongside the establishment, climbed over the railing of the cafe and then grasping his mistress’s hand assisted her out of the boat and they both seated themselves at the end of a table opposite each other.

On the opposite side of the river along the market road, a long string of vehicles was drawn up.  Fiacres alternated with the fine carriages of the swells; the first, clumsy, with enormous bodies crushing the springs, drawn by a broken down hack with hanging head and broken knees; the second, slightly built on light wheels, with horses slender and straight, their heads well up, their bits snowy with foam, while the coachman, solemn in his livery, his head erect in his high collar, waited bolt upright, his whip resting on his knee.