CHAPTER VII
Another night passed and morning brought an event.
It was a cloudless morning, dewy and fresh. All the leaves on the trees and the bushes seemed suddenly to smell sweeter. The meadows sent up great clouds of perfume to the tree-tops.
“Peep!” said the tit-mice when they awoke. They said it very softly. But since it was still gray dawn they said nothing else for a while. For a time it was perfectly still. Then a crow’s hoarse, rasping caw sounded far above in the sky. The crows had awakened and were visiting one another in the tree-tops. The magpie answered at once, “Shackarakshak! Did you think I was still asleep?” Then a hundred small voices started in very softly here and there. “Peep! peep! tiu!” Sleep and the dark were still in these sounds. And they came from far apart.
Suddenly a blackbird flew to the top of a beech. She perched way up on the topmost twig that stuck up thin against the sky and sat there watching how, far away over the trees, the night-weary, pale-gray heavens were glowing in the distant east and coming to life. Then she commenced to sing.
Her little black body seemed only a tiny dark speck at that distance. She looked like a dead leaf. But she poured out her song in a great flood of rejoicing through the whole forest. And everything began to stir. The finches warbled, the little red-throat and the gold finch were heard. The doves rushed from place to place with a loud clapping and rustling of wings. The pheasants cackled as though their throats would burst. The noise of their wings, as they flew from their roosts to the ground, was soft but powerful. They kept uttering their metallic, splintering call with its soft ensuing chuckle. Far above the falcons cried sharply and joyously, “Yayaya!”
The sun rose.
“Diu diyu!” the yellow-bird rejoiced. He flew to and fro among the branches, and his round, yellow body flashed in the morning light like a winged ball of gold.
Bambi walked under the great oak on the meadow. It sparkled with dew. It smelled of grass and flowers and moist earth, and whispered of a thousand living things. Friend Hare was there and seemed to be thinking over something important. A haughty pheasant strutted slowly by, nibbling at the grass seeds and peering cautiously in all directions. The dark, metallic blue on his neck gleamed in the sun.
One of the Princes was standing close to Bambi. Bambi had never seen any of the fathers so close before. The stag was standing right in front of him next to the hazel bush and was somewhat hidden by the branches. Bambi did not move. He wanted the Prince to come out completely, and was wondering whether he dared speak to him. He wanted to ask his mother and looked around for her. But his mother had already gone away and was standing some distance off, beside Aunt Ena. At the same time Gobo and Faline came running out of the woods. Bambi was still thinking it over without stirring. If he went up to his mother and the others now he would have to pass by the Prince. He felt as if he couldn’t do it.
“O well,” he thought, “I don’t have to ask my mother first. The old Prince spoke to me and I didn’t tell Mother anything about it. I’ll say, ‘Good morning, Prince.’ He can’t be offended at that. But if he does get angry, I’ll run away fast.” Bambi struggled with his resolve which began to waver again.
Presently the Prince walked out from behind the hazel bush onto the meadow.
“Now,” thought Bambi.
Then there was a crash like thunder.
Bambi shrank together and didn’t know what had happened. He saw the Prince leap into the air under his very nose and watched him rush past him into the forest with one great bound.
Bambi looked around in a daze. The thunder still vibrated. He saw how his mother and Aunt Ena, Gobo and Faline fled into the woods. He saw how Friend Hare scurried away like mad. He saw the pheasant running with his neck outstretched. He noticed that the forest grew suddenly still. He started and sprang into the thicket. He had made only a few bounds when he saw the Prince lying on the ground in front of him, motionless. Bambi stopped horrified, not understanding what it meant. The Prince lay bleeding from a great wound in his shoulder. He was dead.
“Don’t stop!” a voice beside him commanded. It was his mother who rushed past him at full gallop. “Run,” she cried. “Run as fast as you can!” She did not slow up, but raced ahead, and her command brought Bambi after her. He ran with all his might.
“What is it, Mother?” he asked. “What is it, Mother?”
His mother answered between gasps, “It was He!”
Bambi shuddered and they ran on. At last they stopped for lack of breath.
“What did you say? Tell me, what it was you said,” a soft voice called down from overhead. Bambi looked up. The squirrel came chattering through the branches.
“I ran the whole way with you,” he cried. “It was dreadful.”
“Were you there?” asked the mother.
“Of course I was there,” the squirrel replied. “I am still trembling in every limb.” He sat erect, balancing with his splendid tail, displaying his small white chest, and holding his forepaws protestingly against his body. “I’m beside myself with excitement,” he said.
“I’m quite weak from fright myself,” said the mother. “I don’t understand it. Not one of us saw a thing.”
“Is that so?” the squirrel said pettishly. “I saw Him long before.”
“So did I,” another voice cried. It was the magpie. She flew past and settled on a branch.
“So did I,” came a croak from above. It was the jay who was sitting on an ash.
A couple of crows in the tree-tops cawed harshly, “We saw Him, too.”
They all sat around talking importantly. They were unusually excited and seemed to be full of anger and fear.
“Whom?” Bambi thought. “Whom did they see?”
“I tried my best,” the squirrel was saying, pressing his forepaws protestingly against his heart. “I tried my best to warn the poor Prince.”
“And I,” the jay rasped. “How often did I scream? But he didn’t care to hear me.”
“He didn’t hear me either,” the magpie croaked. “I called him at least ten times. I wanted to fly right past him, for, thought I, he hasn’t heard me yet; I’ll fly to the hazel bush where he’s standing. He can’t help hearing me there. But at that minute it happened.”
“My voice is probably louder than yours, and I warned him as well as I could,” the crow said in an impudent tone. “But gentlemen of that stamp pay little attention to the likes of us.”
“Much too little, really,” the squirrel agreed.
“Well, we did what we could,” said the magpie. “We’re certainly not to blame when an accident happens.”
“Such a handsome Prince,” the squirrel lamented. “And in the very prime of life.”
“Akh!” croaked the jay. “It would have been better for him if he hadn’t been so proud and had paid more attention to us.”
“He certainly wasn’t proud.”
“No more so than the other Princes of his family,” the magpie put in.
“Just plain stupid,” sneered the jay.
“You’re stupid yourself,” the crow cried down from overhead. “Don’t you talk about stupidity. The whole forest knows how stupid you are.”
“I!” replied the jay, stiff with astonishment. “Nobody can accuse me of being stupid. I may be forgetful but I’m certainly not stupid.”
“O just as you please,” said the crow solemnly. “Forget what I said to you, but remember that the Prince did not die because he was proud or stupid, but because no one can escape Him.”
“Akh!” croaked the jay: “I don’t like that kind of talk.” He flew away.
The crow went on, “He has already outwitted many of my family. He kills what He wants. Nothing can help us.”
“You have to be on your guard against Him,” the magpie broke in.
“You certainly do,” said the crow sadly. “Good-by.” He flew off, his family accompanying him.
Bambi looked around. His mother was no longer there.
“What are they talking about now?” thought Bambi. “I can’t understand what they are talking about. Who is this ‘He’ they talk about? That was He, too, that I saw in the bushes, but He didn’t kill me.”
Bambi thought of the Prince lying in front of him with his bloody, mangled shoulder. He was dead now. Bambi walked along. The forest sang again with a thousand voices, the sun pierced the tree-tops with its broad rays. There was light everywhere. The leaves began to smell. Far above the falcons called, close at hand a woodpecker hammered as if nothing had happened. Bambi was not happy. He felt himself threatened by something dark. He did not understand how the others could be so carefree and happy while life was so difficult and dangerous. Then the desire seized him to go deeper and deeper into the woods. They lured him into their depths. He wanted to find some hiding place where, shielded on all sides by impenetrable thickets, he could never be seen. He never wanted to go to the meadow again.
Something moved very softly in the bushes. Bambi drew back violently. The old stag was standing in front of him.
Bambi trembled. He wanted to run away, but he controlled himself and remained. The old stag looked at him with his great deep eyes and asked, “Were you out there before?”
“Yes,” Bambi said softly. His heart was pounding in his throat.
“Where is your mother?” asked the stag.
Bambi answered still very softly, “I don’t know.”
The old stag kept gazing at him. “And still you’re not calling for her?” he said.
Bambi looked into the noble, iron-gray face, looked at the stag’s antlers and suddenly felt full of courage. “I can stay by myself, too,” he said.
The old stag considered him for a while; then he asked gently, “Aren’t you the little one that was crying for his mother not long ago?”
Bambi was somewhat embarrassed, but his courage held. “Yes, I am,” he confessed.
The old stag looked at him in silence and it seemed to Bambi as if those deep eyes gazed still more mildly. “You scolded me then, Prince,” he cried excitedly, “because I was afraid of being left alone. Since then I haven’t been.”
The stag looked at Bambi appraisingly and smiled a very slight, hardly noticeable smile. Bambi noticed it however. “Noble Prince,” he asked confidently, “what has happened? I don’t understand it. Who is this ‘He’ they are all talking about?” He stopped, terrified by the dark glance that bade him be silent.
Another pause ensued. The old stag was gazing past Bambi into the distance. Then he said slowly, “Listen, smell and see for yourself. Find out for yourself.” He lifted his antlered head still higher. “Farewell,” he said, nothing else. Then he vanished.
Bambi stood transfixed and wanted to cry. But that farewell still rang in his ears and sustained him. Farewell, the old stag had said, so he couldn’t have been angry.
Bambi felt himself thrill with pride, felt inspired with a deep earnestness. Yes, life was difficult and full of danger. But come what might he would learn to bear it all.
He walked slowly deeper into the forest.