I was returning from hunting, and walking along an avenue of the
garden, my dog running in front of me.
Suddenly he took shorter steps, and began to steal along as though
tracking game.
I looked along the avenue, and saw a young sparrow, with yellow about
its beak and down on its head. It had fallen out of the nest (the wind
was violently shaking the birch trees in the avenue) and sat unable to
move, helplessly flapping its half-grown wings.
My dog was slowly approaching it, when, suddenly darting from a tree
close by, an old dark-throated sparrow fell like a stone right before
his nose, and all ruffled up, terrified, with despairing and pitiful
chirps, it flung itself twice towards the open jaws of shining teeth.
It sprang to save; it cast itself before its nestling, but all its tiny
body was shaking with terror; its note was harsh and strange. Swooning
with fear, it offered itself up!
What a huge monster must the dog have seemed to it! And yet it could
not stay on its high branch out of danger.... A force stronger than its
will flung it down.
My Tresor stood still, drew back.... Clearly he, too, recognized this
force.
I hastened to call off the disconcerted dog, and went away full of
reverence.
Yes; do not laugh. I felt reverence for that tiny heroic bird for its
impulse of love.
Love, I thought, is stronger than death or the fear of death. Only by
it, by love, life holds together and advances.