We passed through the open convent gate into a quaint and peaceful scene, a small grassed quadrangle closed in by a wall and the sacristan's house; facing us was the west front of the church, with a large window under its low gable. The church wall itself is checkered with squares of red and white stone. The two green doors, under a double arch, were almost as vivid in colour as the lizards basking between the stones. On the right was a low and singularly massive campanile; its huge blue and white clock-face giving a peculiar quaintness to the place. There is a projecting side chapel below, with slit-like windows; beyond this is a cloister walk, its low tiled roof supported by solid white-washed piers. This cloister goes on to the angle where the convent buildings adjoin the church, and extends from this angle along the southern and eastern sides of the little green square to the entrance gates; on one side is an upper storey, reached by a flight of bricked steps.
A woman, sad and quiet-looking, but with a sweet expression on her olive-hued face, showed us the church, and the little choir of the Sisters behind the high altar. She told us how the nuns from the suppressed and desecrated convent of Santa Giuliana "had been driven to take refuge in this blessed house of Santa Maria Assunta." She added with a deep sigh, "Who knows what will happen next?"
It seemed sad that such a peaceful home as this should be threatened.
A few steps beyond this church brought us to a low wall; here we sat and enjoyed the distant view framed in by tall trees. It differs from any other point in Perugia, in having a more varied foreground. This is broken up by green hills, with bright-looking country houses nestling among gardens and orchards, and surrounded by dark trees; behind are the ever-beautiful Apennines; between, in mid distance, is that mingling of colour created by the luxuriant vegetation of this fertile valley. It was varied on this evening by cloud-shadows cast on its mellowed sunny glow.
While we sit enjoying all this beauty, the Angelus sounds in sweet harmony with the scene; three, four, five, then one long drawn-out solemn note.
From the frequent campaniles the bells call one to another, and give deep-toned musical response across the green hollows that vandyke themselves up the walled hillside into the town; the brilliant sunset showing in bold relief the salient balconies of a Palazzo not far away.
We came back into the city by another gate, and lost our way. Finally, however, we turned up a very steep street, and then down flights of steps by the church of San Fiorenzo. There is here a curious old wall with a garden above it; a workman told us it was the curate's garden.
In the lingering gleams of sunlight, oleander blossoms overhead were glowing masses of colour against the grey stone wall.
CHAPTER IX
THE VIA APPIA
The Oratory of San Bernardino is near to gardens, orchards, and drying grounds. Beyond the convent of San Francesco the ancient wall goes northward, and then turns east towards the Porta Augusta, but this afternoon we went southwards.