The clay under their touch sobbed like an adolescent girl into whom
the south wind has long blown inquietude. There where the clay was
thirstiest and driest was heard a continual sound as of drinking, the
panting of burning lips which yielded to the fullness of the storm.

The night which followed the storm was serene. The downfall of rain
had almost evaporated. On the green meadow where Rabbit was in the
habit of meeting his beloved, nothing was left of the storm, except
ball-like masses of mist. It looked as though they were paradisiacal
cotton-plants whose downy whiteness was bursting beneath the flood of
moonlight. Along the steep banks of the river the thickets, heavy with
rain, stood in rows like pilgrims bowed down under the weight of their
wallets and leather-bottles. Peace reigned. It was as though an
angel had rested his forehead in a hand. Dawn shivering with cold was
awaiting her sister the day, and the bowed-down leaves of grass prayed
to the dawn.

And suddenly Rabbit crouching in the midst of his meadow saw a man
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