Nevertheless the spot proved a happy, peaceful refuge for Pierre, one fruitful in inexhaustible reveries when for hours at a time he lingered gazing at the river, the quays, and the city, stretching in front of him and on either hand.
At eight in the morning the sun already gilded the vast opening.

On turning to the left he perceived the roofs of the Trastevere, of a misty, bluish grey against the dazzling sky.

Then, just beyond the apse of San Giovanni, on the right, the river curved, and on its other bank the poplars of the Ospedale di Santo Spirito formed a green curtain, while the castle of Sant' Angelo showed brightly in the distance.

But Pierre's eyes dwelt more particularly on the bank just in front of him, for there he found some lingering vestiges of old Rome.

On that side indeed between the Ponte Sisto and the Ponte Sant' Angelo, the quays, which were to imprison the river within high, white, fortress-like walls, had not yet been raised, and the bank with its remnants of the old papal city conjured up an extraordinary vision of the middle ages.