The traveler had traveled backwards, it would seem, into the middle ages.

As he heard the church bells he gave an angry upward jerk of the head, as if the sound confirmed a thought that was already in his mind.

The bells seemed to be all around him; the towers of the churches seemed to dominate the sleeping city on every side.

There was a distinct smell of incense in the air of these narrow streets, where the winds of the outer world rarely found access.
The traveler knew his way, and hurried down a narrow turning to the left, with the Cathedral of the Pillar between him and the river.

He had made a de tour in order to avoid the bridge and the Paseo del Ebro, a broad road on the river bank.