The seduction of a life purely contemplative assailed Francis, and he asked himself if instead of preaching to the multitudes he would not do better to live in retreat, solely mindful of the inward dialogue between the soul and God.[3] This aspiration for the selfish repose of the cloister came back to him several times in his life; but love always won the victory.

He was too much the child of his time not to be at times tempted by that happiness which the Middle Ages regarded as the supreme bliss of the elect in paradise--peace.

_Beati mortui quia quiescunt!_ His distinguishing peculiarity is that he never gave way to it.
The reflections of Francis and his companions during their stay at Orte only made their apostolic mission more clear and imperative to them.

He, above all, seemed to be filled with a new ardor, and like a valiant knight he burned to throw himself into the thick of the fray.
Their way now led through the valley of the Nera.

The contrast between these cool glens, awake with a thousand voices, and the desolation of the Roman Campagna, must have struck them vividly; the stream is only a swollen torrent, but it runs so noisily over pebbles and rocks that it seems to be conversing with them and with the trees of the neighboring forest.