UNCLE EDWARD. All right.

[So he takes up the large wooden mallet that lies beside his chair and
says solemnly to the audience,

As in Paris.

[Then he bangs the stage with it three times. He loves this classic
touch. Then he calls out to George (we must suppose), whom we guess to
be the presiding genius at the "back," "Music!"

The Music begins. It is a small orchestra to be sure. But if you have
two double-basses and enough fiddles on top you can manage to make the
flowing of a river sound quite well. The music makes you think of the
Styx (which is a deep bass, never ending, four in a bar, sort of river)
before ever Uncle Edward and Alice draw you the curtains and show you
the picture. Rather an awesome picture it is with the cold blue river
and the great black cliffs and the blacker cypresses that grow along
its banks. There are signs of a trodden slope and a ferry, and there's
a rough old wooden shelter where passengers can wait; a bell hung on
the top with which they call the ferryman. And under this now sits
Hipponax, the Greek philosopher; and he is ringing the bell very
violently and unphilosophically indeed.

Alice goes back to her seat. She can see the scenes from there by
twisting her head far round, and she often does. For whether things on
the stage go right or wrong, they never go the same way twice, so it is
always interesting.