We carried the tent higher than we needed to, to a flat shoulder with a view of the Mönch and nothing else.
The evening was cold and clear. We cooked, said little, and watched the face go pink, then grey, then disappear.
When the stars came out there were too many to take in. We lay with the door open until it got too cold, then closed it and listened to the wind.
In the morning the tent was stiff with frost. We packed up slowly. There was no reason to rush.