Roman vigil: In repose on the catafalque in the Sala Clementina in the Pontifical Palace in his red and crimson robes, Easter candle at his head and rosary beads wrapped around his folded hands, the late Pope John Paul II looked like a tired man.
Some say his face shows signs of pain and suffering, others that it bears the marks of the illness that finally ended his days. For our part, his face looks less much less ill than that of the ailing, frail Pope who appeared at the window of his pontifical apartment for the last time last Wednesday.
Doubtless the Vatican's trusted undertakers have done a good job. His face and hands, in truth, have that "wax" look about them. Yet, there is the sense of a tired face, of a man who was simply exhausted by his last, long and painful fight.
Not, mind you, that one got to get a lot of time looking at him. As members of the Vatican press corps, we were privileged to be shown through the Sala Clementina yesterday morning prior to the removal in the afternoon of the Pope's body to the Basilica of St Peter's.
The problem was, inevitably, that we were not alone. In all, it took us about two and a half hours to make the relatively short round trip journey from the Vatican press room to the Sala Clementina and back again. Partly, this was because there were plenty of other "privileged viewers".
Partly, this was also because we followed a circuitous route. In the main, though, things moved slowly because every now and then our queue was forcibly halted as the shakers and makers, mainly figures in Italian public life and cardinals, were jumped to the front of the queue ahead of us.
In theory, yesterday morning's last hours of "semi-private" viewing had been organised for the families of Vatican workers and for some members of the city's religious communities. In truth, there was no end of VIPs still wanting to get a last look at John Paul II.
Some of them like the ageing Rome rabbi, Elio Toaff, had every reason to be there. He was the man who had accompanied John Paul II down the aisle when the late Pope became the first pontiff ever to visit a synagogue back in 1986. Toaff had played a role in one of the many memorable moments of the pontificate.
One wondered, however, about the need to halt the queue so that Green party leader, Alfonso Pecorara Scanio, or Italian Football Federation president, Franco Carraro, could pay their respects.
When we arrived in the Cortile San Damaso, the place where visiting dignitaries first step out of their limo and put foot on Vatican territory, we should have known the worst. Several lines of what Italians like to call auto blu, ministerial cars, were drawn up, with bored drivers clearly waiting for their precious client to return.
On the way up the Scala Nobile to the Sala Clementina, the cosy chit-chat of the irreverent hacks was interrupted by the singing of the Salve Regina and the mantra-like chant of the rosary from those behind us. When we got to the top, the gentlemen of the papal household were ready for us, sorting us into rows of fours and sending us all about our business.
In the Sala Clementina itself, members of the papal household and one or two cardinals knelt in prayer on either side of the Pope, whilst in the corner a priest recited the rosary into a microphone. In front of me, people kneeled, made the sign of the cross or just bowed their heads as they paused.
After that, the gentlemen from the papal household motioned us on and it was back out into the long corridors of the pontifical palace, down the long winding stairs and into the midday sun where another new line of ministerial cars had been drawn up.
The visit left me with one uneasy thought. If it was slow for us, in the extremely controlled confines of the pontifical palace, what will it be like for the estimated million or so who are expected to file past the late Pope's body in St Peter's between now and Friday, the day of his funeral?