noon
I think , in coming out of the dark tunnels and windy galleries , I felt somewhat as Jonah must have felt after he had been discarded in distaste by the whale . The light dazzled my eyes . I could have shouted aloud with joy at sight of the sun . I made Bolzano breakfast with me in the little inn at Iselle , and got upon my way again , at something past noon . The vast turmoil of the growing railway was left behind . It was like putting down a volume of Walt Whitman , and taking up Tennyson . The Pass had the extraordinary individuality of one face as compared with another .