An imaginative spectator could not but be impressed with the idea that this benignly awful representative of divine and human authority might rise from his brazen chair, should any great public exigency demand his interposition, and encourage or restrain the people by his gesture, or even by prophetic utterances worthy of so grand a presence.
And in the long, calm intervals, amid the quiet lapse of ages, the pontiff watched the daily turmoil around his seat, listening with majestic patience to the market cries, and all the petty uproar that awoke the echoes of the stately old piazza.

He was the enduring friend of these men, and of their forefathers and children, the familiar face of generations.
"The pope's blessing, methinks, has fallen upon you," observed the sculptor, looking at his friend.
In truth, Donatello's countenance indicated a healthier spirit than while he was brooding in his melancholy tower.

The change of scene, the breaking up of custom, the fresh flow of incidents, the sense of being homeless, and therefore free, had done something for our poor Faun; these circumstances had at least promoted a reaction, which might else have been slower in its progress.

Then, no doubt, the bright day, the gay spectacle of the market place, and the sympathetic exhilaration of so many people's cheerfulness, had each their suitable effect on a temper naturally prone to be glad.

Perhaps, too, he was magnetically conscious of a presence that formerly sufficed to make him happy.