Immediately on passing through it one finds one's self in the open country; a fold of the hill hides the city, and cuts off every sound that might come from it.

Before you lies the winding road to Foligno; at the left the imposing mass of Mount Subasio; at the right the Umbrian plain with its farms, its villages, its cloud-like hills, on whose slopes pines, cedars, oaks, the vine, and the olive-tree shed abroad an incomparable brightness and animation.

The whole country sparkles with beauty, a beauty harmonious and thoroughly human, that is, made to the measure of man.
Francis had hoped by this sight to recover the delicious sensations of his youth.

With the sharpened sensibility of the convalescent he breathed in the odors of the spring-time, but spring-time did not come, as he had expected, to his heart.

This smiling nature had for him only a message of sadness.