noon
Such was the state of things at Porto Ferrajo at noon , or about the hour when its inhabitants bethought them of their mid-day meal . With most the siesta followed , though the sea air , with its invigorating coolness , rendered that indulgence less necessary to these islanders than to most of their neighbors on the main . Then succeeded the reviving animation of the afternoon , and the return of the zephyr , or the western breeze . So regular , indeed , are these changes in the currents of the air during the summer months , that the mariner can rely with safety on meeting a light breeze from the southward throughout the morning , a calm at noon -- the siesta of the Mediterranean -- and the delightfully cool wind from the west , after three or four o'clock ; this last is again succeeded at night by a breeze directly from the land . Weeks at a time have we known this order of things to be uninterrupted ; and when the changes did occasionally occur , it was only in the slight episodes of showers and thunderstorms , of which , however , Italy has far fewer than our own coast . Such , then , was the state of Porto Ferrajo toward the evening that succeeded this day of bustle and excitement . The zephyr again prevailed -- the idle once more issued forth for their sunset walk -- and the gossips were collecting to renew their conjectures and to start some new point in their already exhausted discussions , when a rumor spread through the place , like fire communicated to a train , that `` ze Ving-y-Ving '' was once more coming down on the weather side of the island , precisely as she had approached on the previous evening , with the confidence of a friend and the celerity of a bird .