Still I noticed with
delight the new character of the miles I pursued. A low hill just
before me, jutting out apparently from the high western mountains,
forbade me to see beyond it. The plain was alluvial, while copses and
wood and many cultivated fields now found room where, higher up, had
been nothing but the bed of a torrent with bare banks and strips of
grass immediately above them; it was a place worthy of a special name
and of being one lordship and a countryside. Still I went on towards
that near boundary of the mountain spur and towards the point where
the river rounded it, the great barrier hill before me still seeming
to shut in the valley.
It was noon, or thereabouts, the heat was increasing (I did not feel
it greatly, for I had eaten and drunk next to nothing), when, coming
round the point, there opened out before me the great fan of the lower
valley and the widening and fruitful plain through which the Ticino
rolls in a full river to reach Lake Major, which is its sea.
Weary as I was, the vision of this sudden expansion roused me and made
me forget everything except the sight before me. The valley turned
well southward as it broadened. The Alps spread out on either side
like great arms welcoming the southern day; the wholesome and familiar
haze that should accompany summer dimmed the more distant mountains of
the lakes and turned them amethystine, and something of repose and of
distance was added to the landscape; something I had not seen for many
days.
