t been able to approach the heavenly lambs whose white
eyelashes winked in the green light. And as none of these animals ever
died, they could no longer lie in wait for the body which the shepherd
threw to the eternal laughter of the torrent.

And the wolves were resigned. Their fur, bald as the rock, was
pitiable. A sort of miserable grandeur reigned in this strange abode.
One felt that this destitution was so tragic and so inexorable that
one would have tenderly kissed the forehead of these poor flesh-eating
beasts even had one surprised them in slaying the lambs. The beauty
of this Paradise in which the friend of Francis now found his home was
that of desolation and hopeless despair.

And beyond this region the heaven of the beasts stretched on to
infinity.

BOOK III

As for Rabbit, he had prudently taken flight at sight of the heavenly
pack of hounds. While Francis had remained near him he had trusted in
Francis. But now, even though he was in the abode of the Blessed,
his distrust which was as natural to him as to the suspicious peasant
gained the upper hand again. And since he did not yet feel himself
entirely at home in this Paradise, tasting neither perfect security,
nor the thrill of familiar danger against which he could battle,
Long-Ear became bewildered.

Accordingly he strayed hither and thither, ill at ease, not knowing
where he was, nor finding his way. He sought in vain for that from
which he fled and that which fled from him. But what was the reason
for this? Was not Heaven happiness? Was there any stillness that
could be more still? In what other resting-place could Cleft-Lip have
dreamed a sleep more undisturbed than on these beds of wool that the
breeze spread beneath the flower-covered bushes of the stars?

But he did not sleep here, because he missed his constant uneasiness
and other things. Crouching in the ditches of Heaven he no longer
had the feeling beneath the whiteness of his short tail of the chilly
dampness penetrating through and through him. The mosquitoes, who had
withdrawn to their own Paradise of shallow pools, no longer filled
his always open eyelids with the sharp burning sensation of summer.
He longed regretfully for this fever. His heart no longer beat as
powerfully as it had beaten when on knolls in the flame-colored heath
a shot scattered the earth like rain about him. Under the smooth
caress of the lawn-like grass hair grew again on the callous parts
of his paws