ome hither, Brother Wolf! In the name of
Christ I bid you do no harm, neither to me nor to any one." And when
the wolf closed his jaws and stopped running, and came at the Saint's
bidding, as gentle as a lamb, and lay down at his feet, St. Francis
rebuked him for the slaying of God's creatures, the beasts, and even
men made in God's image. "But fain would I make peace," he said,
"between you and these townsfolk; so that if you pledge them your faith
that you will do no more scathe either to man or beast, they will
forgive you all your offences in the past, and neither men nor dogs
shall harry you any more. And I will look to it that you shall always
have food as long as you abide with the folk of this countryside."

Whereupon Brother Wolf, by movements of body and tail and bowing of
head, gave token of his good will to abide by that bargain. And in
sign that he plighted his troth to it he gave the Saint his paw, and
followed to the market-place of Agobio, where St. Francis repeated all
that he had said, and the people agreed to the bargain, and once more
the wolf gave pledge of his faith by putting his paw in the Saint's
hand.

For two years thereafter Brother Wolf dwelt in Agobio, going tame and
gentle from house to house and in and out at will, doing hurt to none,
but much loved of the children and cared for in food and drink and
kindness by the townsfolk, so that no one lifted stone or stick against
him, neither did any dog bark at him. At the end of those years he
died of old age, and the people were grieved that no more should they
see his gentle coming and going.

Such was the courtesy and sweet fellowship of St. Francis with the wild
creatures.

It remains yet to say of him that he was ever gay and joyous as became
God's gleeman. Greatly he loved the song of bird and man, and all
melody and minstrelsy. Nor was it ill-pleasing to God that he should
rejoice in these good gifts, for once lying in his cell faint with
fever, to him came the thought that the sound of music might ease his
pain; but when the friar whom he asked to play for him was afraid of
causing a scandal by his playing, St. Francis, left alone, heard such
music that his suffering ceased and his fever left him. And as he lay
listening he was aware that the sound kept coming and going; and how
could it have been otherwise? for it was the lute-playing of an Angel,
far away, walking in Paradise.

Sweet new songs he made in the language o