For three days Gigi lay on the pallet of the good Hermit, near to death.  And for three days the great dog lay on guard by his side.  The Hermit went softly to and fro, taking tender care of the boy and giving him medicine made from wonderful herbs which he had found in the woods.  Often he knelt in a corner of the hut, before a rude wooden Cross, and said prayers; this seemed to give him strength for his work and hope for its result.  So that when he rose, his face would be bright and happy.

This was he doing the third morning when Gigi awoke, feeling better.  The ache was gone from his limbs and the dizziness from his head.  He awoke with a long sigh, and for the first time since he lay down on the Hermit’s pallet he looked around him with interest.  At first he did not know where he was.

The hut was small and bare.  In one corner was a cupboard where the Hermit kept his scanty supply of food and the medicines which he distilled.  Against the wall was a bench, beside a table made of a tree-stump, and on the table lay a great black book.  Opposite the bed was the Cross of wood fastened to the wall, and below it the good Hermit knelt with bowed head.  Gigi wondered what he was doing.  He himself knew no prayers.

Gigi’s eyes wandered to the door, which stood open.  On the sill the cat and her kittens were playing.  Outside he could catch a glimpse of various animals frisking about the dooryard.  Birds sang merrily in the trees overhead and in the bushes just outside the window.  The raven hopped into the doorway and stood looking saucily at Gigi, with head on one side.  It was all so peaceful, so quiet, so different from anything which Gigi had known, that he thought it must be a dream.  He sighed again, and turned over, stretching out his arm.  In doing so he touched the hairy neck of Brutus, who was still sleeping by his bed.  Instantly the dog sprang up and began to lick the boy’s face.  At the same moment, with a pious gesture, the Hermit also rose and came toward the cot, smiling kindly.

“You are better, my son?” he asked, laying a cool hand upon Gigi’s forehead.  “Ah, yes!  You will soon be quite yourself.”

Gigi stared up at him contentedly.  “Who are you?” he asked.  He had never been taught manners, and he could no longer hide his curiosity.

“I am a Hermit,” answered the old man.  “I live here alone with my animals, as you see.  I pass the days in prayer and meditation, studying the Lord’s Holy Book and the living works of His hands.”

“Why do you live away from men?” asked Gigi again.

The Hermit’s face grew sad.

“Men are wicked and cruel, child,” he said.  “Men hurt and kill one another.  They love to slay the innocent animals for sport.  In their kingdoms is no love.  I have made myself here an animal kingdom, where all is love and peace.”

“Do all animals know you?” asked Gigi, wondering.