Happy Valley of Rasselas, which we left
with regret when the peaceful Sabbath was over.

Across the lake, at Brienz, Monday morning, a carriage waited to bear us
on, over the Brunig Pass, into the clouds and out again; then down,
down, past village, and lake, and towering hills, resting again at
Sarnen, then on to Lucerne, into which we swept, with tinkling bells and
cracking whip, to find the city gay with streaming flags and flowery
arches, erected for some singing _fete_, but which to us were all signs
of a happy welcoming.

CHAPTER XVI.

BACK TO PARIS ALONE.

Coming home.--The breaking up of the party.--We
start for Paris alone.--Basle, and a search for a
hotel.--The twilight ride.--The shopkeeper whose
wits had gone "a wool-gathering."--"Two tickets
for Paris."--What can be the matter now?--'Michel
Angelo's Moses.--Paris at midnight.--The kind
_commissionaire_.--The good French gentleman, and
his fussy little wife.--A search for Miss
H.'s.--"Come up, come up."--"Can women travel
through Europe alone?"--A word about a woman's
outfit.

TO dash through the town, along the quay where we had walked so many
times beneath the trees or leaning over the low parapet fed the fishes,
past the two-spired cathedral, the cloisters of which had become so
familiar, to mount the hill and draw up before the door of the Bellevue
again, welcomed by the innkeeper, and greeted with outstretched hands by
"Charles," who had served our chocolate, while familiar faces met us at
every window or upon the stairs, to pull up the shutters, throw wide
open the windows, and drink in the glorious beauty of the scene before
our eyes--all this was delightful, but fleeting, like all earthly joys,
and mixed with pain; for here we were to say "good by."

Our pleasant party was to break up. The friends in whose care we had
been so long, were off for Germany, and Mrs. K. and I must turn our
faces towards home. We were to renew our early and brief experience in
travelling alone. It had been as limited as our French, which consisted
principally of "_Est-ce que vous avez?_" followed by a pantomimic
display that would have done credit to a professional, and "_Quel est le
prix?_" succeeded by the blankest amazement, since we could seldom, if
ever, understand a reply.

"Are you afraid?" queried our friends.

"No; O, no." The state of