n
approaching, and he wasn't in the least afraid of him. For the first
time since the beginning of things, since man had set traps and
snares the instinct of flight became extinguished in the timid soul of
Rabbit.

The man, who approached, was dressed like the trunk of a tree in
winter when it is clothed in the rough fustian of moss. He wore a cowl
on his head and sandals on his feet. He carried no stick. His hands
were clasped inside the sleeves of his robe, and a cord served as
girdle. He kept his bony face turned toward the moon, and the moon was
less pale than it. One could clearly distinguish his eagle's nose and
his deep eyes, which were like those of asses, and his black beard on
which tufts of lamb's wool had been left by the thickets.

Two doves accompanied him. They flitted from branch to branch in the
sweetness of the night. The tender beat of their wings was like the
fallen petals of a flower, and as if these were striving to re-unite
again and expand once more into a blossom.

Three poor dogs that wore spiked collars and wagged their tails
preceded the man, and an ancient wolf was licking the hem of his
garment. A ewe and her lamb, bleating, uncertain, and enraptured,
pressed forward amid the crocuses and trod upon their emerald, while
three hawks began to play with the two doves. A timid night-bird
whistled with joy amid the acorns. Then it spread its wings and
overtook the hawks and the doves, the lamb and the ewe, the dogs, the
wolf, and the man.

And the man approached Rabbit and said to him:

"I am Francis. I love thee and I greet thee, Oh thou, my brother. I
greet thee in the name of the sky which mirrors the waters and the
sparkling stones, in the name of the wild sorrel, the bark of the
trees and the seeds which are thy sustenance. Come with these sinless
ones who accompany me and cling to my foot-steps with the faith of the
ivy which clasps the tree without considering that soon, perhaps, the
woodcutter will come. Oh Rabbit, I bring to thee the Faith which we
share one in another, the Faith which is life itself, all that of
which we are ignorant, but in which we nevertheless believe. Oh dear
and kindly Rabbit, thou gentle wanderer, wilt thou follow our Faith?"

And while Francis was speaking the beasts remained quite silent; they
lay flat on the ground or perched in the twigs, and had complete faith
in these words which they did not understand.

Rabbit alone, his eyes wide-open, now seemed