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Updated: May 2, 2025
Both of them had been for some time aware of a vague luminousness surrounding them, as if the sun wanted to get through the masses of vapour; but at this moment she, happening to turn her head, found that the wind had in one direction swept away the mist, and behold, far away in the valley beneath them, they could see the village of Splügen, shining quite yellow in the sunlight.
Our Bacchic journey had reached its close; and it boots not here to tell in detail how we made our way across the Splügen, piercing its avalanches by low-arched galleries scooped from the solid snow, and careering in our sledges down perpendicular snow-fields, which no one who has crossed that pass from the Italian side in winter will forget.
The Jura mountains and places, such as Splugen and Schuls in Graubunden, might open up new districts. There is much new country to explore, and I have only picked out for notice the few places to which I have been myself, or of which I have heard from people I trust.
Cardinal Grimani, he asserts, tried to hold him back, but in vain, for in July, 1509, he left Rome and Italy, never to return. As he crossed the Alps for the second time, not on the French side now, but across the Splügen, through Switzerland, his genius touched him again, as had happened in those high regions three years before on the road to Italy.
Outside they heard nothing but the rattle of the rain on the top of the carriage, and the tinkle of the horses' bells. By and by the lamps were lit. Later they were in absolute blackness plunging through the streaming night; but they were contented enough. When the carriage stopped they were quite surprised. Splügen already! And where was the inn?
Chiavenna is the first Italian town which the tourist reaches by this route, and I know no town in the North of Italy which is so closely surrounded by beautiful scenery. The traveller as he falls down to it from the Splugen road is bewildered by the loveliness of the valleys, -that is to say, if he so arranges that he can see them without pressing his nose against the glass of a coach window.
That is one of the grand points about one's memory; you forget all the trivial details and discomforts, and only remember the best. He quite naturally turned to Nan. 'I am sure, Miss Nan, he said, 'you have quite a series of beautiful little pictures in your mind about that Splügen excursion.
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