noon
At one elevated point , he stood for several minutes looking along the road to Salerno . March rains had brought the vegetation into luxurious life ; fern , acanthus , brambles , and all the densely intermingled growths that cover the ground about the ruins , spread forth their innumerable tints of green . Between shore and mountains , the wide plain smiled in its desolation . At length he went up into the Temple of Neptune , spread the rug on a spot where he had been accustomed , each day at noon , to eat his salame and drink his Calabrian wine , and seated himself against a column . Here he could enjoy a view from both ends of the ruin . In the one direction it was only a narrow strip of sea , with the barren coast below , and the cloudless sky above it ; in the other , a purple valley , rising far away on the flank of the Apennines ; both pictures set between Doric pillars . He lit a cigar , and with a smile of contented thought abandoned himself to the delicious warmth , the restful silence .