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Owing perhaps to the scent of blossoms in the air, it was a week that found the city in an unusually revealing mood.

In a week of memorable words��Habemus papam,� intoned an old man in red; �One final one, and then I stop,� vowed a six-time Tour de France champion�some of the most momentous were uttered by New Yorkers.

As abundant sunshine coaxed into bloom the Bradford-pear trees lining the city’s sidewalks, change and renewal seemed to be in the air.

As these three world-historical figures ascended to the Great Perhaps, life in the city carried on in its usual sublunary style.

Although Spring had just begun, some New Yorkers were already visibly sweating.

�April is the cruelest month, / A smile will make it better. / But if you frown and act depressed, / You’ll only make it wetter.�

It was a week of mixed fortunes in New York.

The week, a drab late-winter run-up to St. Patrick's Day, offered promise of future delights.

Although outwardly uneventful, it was a week in which New York was tested in ways both subtle and obvious, trivial and serious.

More smiles were seen on the streets of New York than at any time since before November 2.