Alice was seated quite at the end of the gallery, and Kate's chair was at her feet in the corner. When Alice and Kate had seated themselves, the waiter had brought a small table for the coffee-cups, and George had placed his chair on the other side of that. So that Alice was, as it were, a prisoner. She could not slip away without some special preparation for going, and Kate had so placed her chair in leaving, that she must actually have asked George to move it before she could escape. But why should she wish to escape? Nothing could be more lovely and enticing than the scene before her. The night had come on, with quick but still unperceived approach, as it does in those parts; for the twilight there is not prolonged as it is with us more northern folk. The night had come on, but there was a rising moon, which just sufficed to give a sheen to the water beneath her. The air was deliciously soft;--of that softness which produces no sensation either of warmth or cold, but which just seems to touch one with loving tenderness, as though the unseen spirits of the air kissed one's forehead as they passed on their wings. The Rhine was running at her feet, so near, that in the soft half light it seemed as though she might step into its ripple. The Rhine was running by with that delicious sound of rapidly moving waters, that fresh refreshing gurgle of the river, which is so delicious to the ear at all times. If you be talking, it wraps up your speech, keeping it for yourselves, making it difficult neither to her who listens nor to him who speaks. If you would sleep, it is of all lullabies the sweetest. If you are alone and would think, it aids all your thoughts. If you are alone, and, alas! would not think,--if thinking be too painful,--it will dispel your sorrow, and give the comfort which music alone can give. Alice felt that the air kissed her, that the river sang for her its sweetest song, that the moon shone for her with its softest light,--that light which lends the poetry of half-developed beauty to everything that it touches. Why should she leave it?

Alice was seated at the end of the balcony, and George sat at the other side of the small coffee-table, so that Alice was, as it were, a prisoner. She could not slip away. But why should she wish to escape?
Nothing could be more lovely and enticing than the scene before her. The night had come on quickly, but there was a rising moon, which gave a sheen to the water beneath her. The air was deliciously soft, seeming to touch her with loving tenderness. The Rhine was running at her feet, so near that in the soft half light it seemed as though she might step into its ripple. Its refreshing gurgle was delicious to the ear. Alice felt that the air kissed her, that the river sang for her its sweetest song, that the moon shone for her with its softest light. Why should she leave it?
