Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part IV - V
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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 281
boats. Handfuls of storm-lashed sand were flung at our
windows ; the leaves, torn from their branches, went
dancing and whirling by, the doors of the stoves
clattered, the walls shook. I looked out of the window ;
the church was lighted up, and the bells were ringing to
awaken those who still slept. In these parts the Foehn
is accounted as full of danger as an earthquake, for it
does not only sweep away the houses, but it tears the
mountains to pieces and flings them into the valleys. Our
house was situated at the base of a mountain which,
though only fifteen hundred metres high, carried on its
summit a loose litter of rocks, peculiarly adapted to stone-
throwing on a large scale. The tempest raged for three
hours, then the danger was over ; but on the following-
morning everybody in the village knew that at Schwyz
a rock had fallen on a farmhouse and carried away the
right wing without injury to those who lived in the left.
After this warm but terrific gale a fog descended on
village and lake. The sky was overcast, but no rain fell ;
yet there was no sunshine. This continued for three
weeks, and if the outlook had been grey to begin with,
it ended by being black. The beautiful alpine landscape,
the unrivalled restorer of flagging spirits, had lost its
potency, for it was impossible to see further ahead than
a hundred yards up the steep rocks; the heart became
heavy as lead and indescribably depressed. The tourists
had turned their faces homewards, the hotels were empty,
November was upon us, sombre and gloomy. The hours
dragged on wearily ; one longed for the end of the dreary
day and the cheerful light of the lamps ; the dismal sky
was grey, the lake was grey, the landscape was grey.
No wind, no rain, no thunder. Nature, so varied and
diversified, had become monotonous, calm and quiet; so
peaceful that an earthquake would have been a relief.
Wherever the light did not fall, greyness reigned;
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