One day, when I thought myself alone, I stepped into the boat and rowed toward that part of the wall through which I had seen Erik disappear.

It was then that I came into contact with the siren who guarded the approach and whose charm was very nearly fatal to me.
I had no sooner put off from the bank than the silence amid which I floated on the water was disturbed by a sort of whispered singing that hovered all around me.

It was half breath, half music; it rose softly from the waters of the lake; and I was surrounded by it through I knew not what artifice.

It followed me, moved with me and was so soft that it did not alarm me.

On the contrary, in my longing to approach the source of that sweet and enticing harmony, I leaned out of my little boat over the water, for there was no doubt in my mind that the singing came from the water itself.