One day they went to look for the little clearing in the depth of the
woods where Bambi had last met the old stag. Bambi told Faline all about
the old stag and grew enthusiastic.
“Maybe we’ll meet him again,” he said. “I’d like you to see him.”
“It would be nice,” said Faline boldly. “I’d really like to chat with
him once myself.” But she wasn’t telling the truth for, though she was
very inquisitive, she was afraid of the old stag.
The twilight was already dusky gray. Sunset was near.
They walked softly side by side where the leaves hung quivering on the
shrubs and bushes and permitted a clear view in all directions.
Presently there was a rustling sound near by. They stopped and looked
towards it. Then the old stag marched slowly and powerfully through the
bushes, into the clearing. In the drab twilight he seemed like a
gigantic gray shadow.
Faline uttered an involuntary cry. Bambi controlled himself. He was
terrified, too, and a cry stuck in his throat. But Faline’s voice
sounded so helpless that pity seized him and made him want to comfort
her.
“What’s the matter?” he whispered solicitously, while his voice
quavered, “what’s the matter with you? He isn’t going to hurt us.”
Faline simply shrieked again.
“Don’t be so terribly upset, beloved,” Bambi pleaded. “It’s ridiculous
to be so frightened by him. After all he’s one of our own family.”
But Faline wouldn’t be comforted. She stood stock-still, staring at the
stag who went along unconcerned. Then she shrieked and shrieked.
“Pull yourself together,” Bambi begged. “What will he think of us?”
But Faline was not to be quieted. “He can think what he likes,” she
cried bleating again. “Ah-oh! Baoh!... It’s terrible to be so big!”
She bleated again, “Baoh! Leave me,” she went on, “I can’t help it, I
have to bleat. Baoh, baoh, baoh!”
The stag was standing in the little clearing, looking for tidbits in the
grass.
Fresh courage came to Bambi who had one eye on the hysterical Faline,
the other on the placid stag. With the encouragement he had given Faline
he had conquered his own fears. He began to reproach himself for the
pitiful state he was in whenever he saw the old stag, a state of mingled
terror and excitement, admiration and submissiveness.
“It’s perfectly absurd,” he said with painful decision. “I’m going
straight over to tell him who I am.”
“Don’t,” cried Faline. “Don’t! Baoh! Something terrible will happen.
Baoh!”
“I’m going anyway,” answered Bambi.
The stag who was feasting so calmly, not paying the slightest attention
to the weeping Faline, seemed altogether too haughty to him. He felt
offended and humiliated. “I’m going,” he said. “Be quiet. You’ll see,
nothing will happen. Wait for me here.”
He went, but Faline did not wait. She hadn’t the least desire or courage
to do so. She faced about and ran away crying, for she thought it was
the best thing she could do. Bambi could hear her going farther and
farther away, bleating, “Baoh! Baoh!”
Bambi would gladly have followed her. But that was no longer possible.
He pulled himself together and went forward.
Through the branches he saw the stag standing in the clearing, his head
close to the ground. Bambi felt his heart pounding as he stepped out.
The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at him. Then he gazed
absently straight ahead again. The way in which the stag gazed into
space, as though no one else were there, seemed as haughty to Bambi as
the way he had stared at him.
[Illustration: _The stag immediately lifted his head and looked at
him._]
Bambi did not know what to do. He had come with the firm intention of
speaking to the stag. He wanted to say, “Good day, I am Bambi. May I ask
to know your honorable name also?”
Yes, it had all seemed very easy, but now it appeared that the affair
was not so simple. What good were the best of intentions now? Bambi did
not want to seem ill-bred as he would be if he went off without saying a
word. But he did not want to seem forward either, and he would be if he
began the conversation.
The stag was wonderfully majestic. It delighted Bambi and made him feel
humble. He tried in vain to arouse his courage and kept asking himself,
“Why do I let him frighten me? Am I not just as good as he is?” But it
was no use. Bambi continued to be frightened and felt in his heart of
hearts that he really was not as good as the old stag. Far from it. He
felt wretched and had to use all his strength to keep himself steady.
The old stag looked at him and thought, “He’s handsome, he’s really
charming, so delicate, so poised, so elegant in his whole bearing. I
must not stare at him, though. It really isn’t the thing to do. Besides,
it might embarrass him.” So he stared over Bambi’s head into the empty
air again.
“What a haughty look,” thought Bambi. “It’s unbearable, the opinion such
people have of themselves.”
The stag was thinking, “I’d like to talk to him, he looks so
sympathetic. How stupid never to speak to people we don’t know.” He
looked thoughtfully ahead of him.
“I might as well be air,” said Bambi to himself. “This fellow acts as
though he were the only thing on the face of the earth.”
“What should I say to him?” the old stag was wondering. “I’m not used to
talking. I’d say something stupid and make myself ridiculous ... for
he’s undoubtedly very clever.”
Bambi pulled himself together and looked fixedly at the stag. “How
splendid he is,” he thought despairingly.
“Well, some other time, perhaps,” the stag decided and walked off,
dissatisfied but majestic.
Bambi remained filled with bitterness.