More were arriving all the time; some from Chatou upstream, some from Bougival, downstream. Gales of contagious laughter carried from one boat to another and the air was full of insults, complaints, protestations and howls. The men in the boats exposed their muscular, tanned bodies to the glare of the sun and, like exotic water-plants, the women’s parasols of red, green and yellow silk blossomed in the sterns of their craft.

The July sun blazed in the middle of the sky and the atmosphere was gay and carefree, while in the windless air not a leaf stirred in the poplars and willows lining the banks of the river. In the distance ahead, the conspicuous bulk of Mont-Valérien loomed, rearing the ramparts of its fortifications in the glare of the sun. On the right, the gentle slopes of Louveciennes, following the curve of the river, formed a semi-circle within which could be glimpsed, through the dense and shady greenery of their spacious lawns, the white-painted walls of weekend retreats.

On the land adjoining La Grenouillère strollers were sauntering under the gigantic trees which help to make this part of the island one of the most delightful parks imaginable. Busty women with peroxided hair and nipped-in waists could be seen, made up to the nines with blood red lips and black-kohled eyes. Tightly laced into their garish dresses they trailed in all their vulgar glory over the fresh green grass. They were accompanied by men whose fashion-plate accessories, light gloves, patent-leather boots, canes as slender as threads and absurd monocles made them look like complete idiots.

The part of the island facing La Grenouillère is narrow and between it and the opposite bank where another ferry plies, bringing people over from Croissy, the current is very strong and very fast. Here it swirls and roars, raging like a torrent in a myriad of eddies and foam. A detachment of pontoon-builders wearing the uniform of artillerymen was camped on the bank and some of the soldiers, side by side on a long beam of wood, sat watching the river below.

A noisy, rambunctious crowd filled the floating restaurant. The wooden tables, sticky and awash with streams of spilt drink, were covered with half-empty glasses and surrounded by half-tipsy customers. The crowd sang and shouted and brawled. Red-faced, belligerent men, their hats tipped at the backs of their heads and their eyes glassy with booze, prowled like animals spoiling for a fight. The women, cadging free drinks in the meantime, were seeking their prey for the night. The space between the tables was filled with the usual clientèle – noisy young boating blades and their female companions in short flannel skirts.

One of the men was banging away at the piano using his feet as well as his hands. Four couples were dancing a quadrille and watching them was a group of elegantly dressed young men whose respectable appearance was ruined by the hideous incongruity of the setting.