Southeast of the peak we strolled about in the tiny village of Binn, from which the valley of Binntal spreads out. A cluster of houses, stone at bottom and weathered spruce and larch above, nestled in gardens thick with daisies, red coleus, asters, sunflowers, chrysanthemums and wine-dark hollyhocks. A stream sang on the rocks, a stone bridge arched over it and children bounded along the bridge. A church overlooked it all and the organist invited us to stay to listen to the music. Pretty enough, all of it, but we seemed still to be breathing the thin air of the morning. There were glowing faces everywhere, and the memories of some faces, Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau, will be cherished long after.