by Felix Salten
“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 toward 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 a 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.
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.
Chapter Fourteen
THE FOREST SWELTERED UNDER A scorching sun. Since it rose it had driven even the tiniest cloudlet from the sky and shone all alone in the wide blue depths that were pallid now with heat. Over the meadows and the treetops the air quivered in glassy, transparent ripples as it does over a flame. Not a leaf was moving, not a blade of grass. The birds were silent and sat hidden among the shady leaves, never stirring from their places. All the paths and trails in the thicket were empty. Not a creature was abroad. The forest lay as though hurt by the blinding light. The earth and the trees, the bushes, the beasts, breathed in the intense heat with a kind of sluggish satisfaction.
Bambi was asleep.
He had made merry with Faline all night. He had pranced around with her until broad daylight, and in his bliss had even forgotten to eat. But he had grown so tired that he did not feel hungry any more. His eyes fell shut. He lay down where he happened to be standing in the middle of the bushes and fell asleep at once.
The bitter acrid odor that streamed from the sun-warmed juniper, and the penetrating scent of spurge laurel, mounted to his head while he slept and gave him new strength. Suddenly he awoke in a daze. Had Faline called him? Bambi looked around. He remembered seeing Faline as he lay down, standing close beside him near the whitethorn, nibbling the leaves. He had supposed she would remain near him, but she was gone. Apparently she had grown tired of being alone by now and was calling for him to come and look for her.
As Bambi listened he wondered how long he could have slept and how often Faline had called. He wasn’t sure. Veils of sleep still clouded his thought.
Then she called again. With a sidewise spring Bambi turned in the direction the sound came from. Then he heard it again. And suddenly he felt perfectly happy. He was wonderfully refreshed, quieted and strengthened, but racked by a terrific appetite.
The call came again clearly, thin as a bird’s twittering, tender and full of longing: “Come, come!” it said.
Yes, that was her voice. That was Faline. Bambi rushed away so fast that the dry branches barely crackled as he burst through the bushes and the hot green leaves scarcely rustled.
But he had to stop short in the midst of his course and swerve to one side, for the old stag was standing there, barring his path.
Bambi had no time for anything but love. The old stag was indifferent to him now. He would meet him again somewhere later on. He had no time for old stags now, ho
wever noble they might be, He had thoughts for Faline alone. He greeted the stag hastily and tried to hurry by.
“Where are you going?” asked the old stag earnestly.
Bambi was somewhat embarrassed and tried to think of an evasion, but he changed his mind and answered truthfully, “To her.”
“Don’t go,” said the old stag.
For a second a single angry spark flared up in Bambi’s mind. Not go to Faline? How could the mean old stag ask that? “I’ll simply run off,” Bambi thought. And he looked quickly at the old stag. But the deep look that met him in the old stag’s eyes held him fast. He quivered with impatience but he did not run away.
“She’s calling me,” he said in explanation. He said it in a tone which clearly bleated. “Don’t keep me talking here.”
“No,” said the old stag, “she isn’t calling.”
The call came once again, thin as a bird’s twittering, “Come!”
“Listen,” Bambi cried excitedly, “there it is again.”
“I hear it,” said the old stag, nodding.
“Well, goodbye,” Bambi flung back hurriedly.
“Stop!” the old stag commanded.
“What do you want?” cried Bambi, beside himself with impatience. “Let me go. I have no time. Please, Faline is calling. . . . You ought to see that. . . .”
“I tell you,” the old stag said, “that it isn’t she.”
Bambi was desperate. “But,” he said, “I know her voice.”
“Listen to me,” the old stag went on.
Again the call came. Bambi felt the ground burning under his feet. “Later,” he pleaded, “I’ll come right back.”
“No,” said the old stag sadly, “you’ll never come back, never again.”
The call came again. “I must go! I must go!” cried Bambi, who was nearly out of his wits.
“Then,” the old stag declared in a commanding voice, “we’ll go together.”
“Quickly,” cried Bambi and bounded off.
“No, slowly,” commanded the old stag in a voice that forced Bambi to obey. “Stay in back of me. Move one step at a time.”
The old stag began to move forward. Bambi followed, sighing with impatience.
“Listen,” said the old stag without stopping, “no matter how often that call comes, don’t stir from my side. If it’s Faline, you’ll get to her soon enough. But it isn’t Faline. Don’t let yourself be tempted. Everything depends now on whether you trust me or not.”
Bambi did not dare to resist, and surrendered in silence.
The old stag advanced slowly and Bambi followed him. Oh how cleverly the old stag moved! Not a sound came from under his hoofs. Not a leaf was disturbed. Not a twig snapped. And yet they were gliding through thick bushes, slinking through the ancient tangled thicket. Bambi was amazed and had to admire him in spite of his impatience. He had never dreamed that anybody could move like that.
The call came again and again. The old stag stood still, listening and nodding his head. Bambi stood beside him, shaken with desire, and suffering from restraint. He could not understand it at all.
Several times the old stag stopped, although no call had come, and lifted his head, listening and nodding. Bambi heard nothing. The old stag turned away from the direction of the call and made a detour. Bambi raged inwardly because of it.
The call came again and again. At last they drew nearer to it, then still nearer. At last they were quite near.
The old stag whispered, “No matter what you see, don’t move, do you hear? Watch everything I do and act just as I do, cautiously. And don’t lose your head.”
They went a few steps farther and suddenly that sharp, arresting scent that Bambi knew so well struck them full in the face. He swallowed so much of it that he nearly cried out. He stood as though rooted to the ground. For a moment his heart seemed pounding in his throat. The old stag stood calmly beside him and motioned with his eyes.
He was standing there.
He was standing quite close to them leaning against the trunk of an oak, hidden by hazel bushes. He was calling softly, “Come, come!”
Bambi was completely bewildered. He was so terrified that he began to understand only by degrees that it was He who was imitating Faline’s voice. It was He who was calling, “Come, come!”
Cold terror shot through Bambi’s body. The idea of flight gripped him and tugged at his heart.
“Be still,” whispered the old stag quickly and commandingly as if he meant to forestall any outbreak of fear. Bambi controlled himself with an effort.
The old stag looked at him a little scornfully at first, it seemed to Bambi. He noticed it in spite of the state he was in. But the stag changed at once to a serious and kindly look.
Bambi peered out with blinking eyes to where He was standing, and felt as if he could not bear His horrible presence much longer.
As if he had read his thought, the old stag whispered to him, “Let’s go back,” and turned about.
They glided away cautiously. The old stag moved with a marvelous zigzag course whose purpose Bambi did not understand. Again he followed with painfully controlled impatience. The longing for Faline had harassed him on the way over; now the impulse to flee was beating through his veins.
But the old stag walked on slowly, stopping and listening. He would begin a new zigzag, then stop again, going very slowly ahead.
By this time they were far from the danger spot. “If he stops again,” thought Bambi, “it ought to be all right to speak to him by now, and I’ll thank him.”
But at that moment the old stag vanished under his very eyes into a thick tangle of dogwood shrubs. Not a leaf stirred, not a twig snapped as the stag slipped away.
Bambi followed and tried to get through as noiselessly and to avoid every sound with as much skill. But he was not so lucky. The leaves swished gently, the boughs bent against his flanks and sprang up again with a loud twang; dry branches broke against his chest with sharp piercing snaps.
“He saved my life,” Bambi kept thinking. “What can I say to him?”
But the old stag was nowhere to be seen. Bambi came out of the bushes. Around him was a sea of yellow, flowering goldenrod. He raised his head and looked around. Not a leaf was moving as far as he could see. He was all alone.
Freed from all control, the impulse to flee suddenly carried him away. The goldenrods parted with a loud swish beneath his bounding hoofs as though under the stroke of a scythe.
After wandering about for a long time he found Faline. He was breathless, tired and happy and deeply stirred.
“Please, beloved,” he said, “please don’t ever call me again. We’ll search until we find each other, but please don’t ever call me . . . for I can’t resist your voice.”
Chapter Fifteen
A FEW DAYS LATER THEY WERE walking carefree together through an oak thicket on the far side of the meadow. They had to cross the meadow in order to reach their old trail where the tall oak stood.
As the bushes grew thinner around them they stopped and peered out. Something red was moving near the oak. Both of them looked at it.
“Who can it be?” whispered Bambi.
“Probably Ronno or Karus,” said Faline.
Bambi doubted it. “They don’t dare come near me any more,” Bambi said, peering sharply ahead. “No,” he decided, “that’s not Karus or Ronno. It’s a stranger.”
Faline agreed, surprised, and very curious. “Yes,” she said, “it’s a stranger. I see it, too, now. How curious!”
They watched him.
“How carelessly he acts,” exclaimed Faline.
“Stupid,” said Bambi, “really stupid. He acts like a little child, as if there were no danger.”
“Let’s go over,” Faline proposed. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“All rig
ht,” Bambi answered. “Let’s go, I want to have a better look at the fellow.”
They took a few steps and then Faline stopped. “Suppose he wants to fight you,” she said. “He’s strong.”
“Bah,” said Bambi holding his head cocked and putting on a disdainful air, “look at the little antlers he has. Should I be afraid of that? The fellow is fat and sleek enough, but is he strong? I don’t think so. Come along.”
They went on.
The stranger was busy nibbling meadow grass and did not notice them until they were a good way across the meadow. Then he ran forward to meet them. He gave joyful playful skips that made a curiously childish impression. Bambi and Faline stopped, surprised, and waited for him. When he was a few steps off he stood still likewise.
After a while he asked, “Don’t you know me?”
Bambi had lowered his head prepared for battle. “Do you know us?” he retorted.
The stranger interrupted him. “Bambi,” he cried reproachfully, yet confidently.
Bambi was startled to hear his name spoken. The sound of that voice stirred an old memory in his heart. But Faline had rushed toward the stranger.
“Gobo,” she cried and became speechless. She stood there silent without moving. She couldn’t breathe.
“Faline,” said Gobo softly, “Faline, sister, you knew me anyway.” He went to her and kissed her mouth. The tears were running down his cheeks. Faline was crying too, and couldn’t speak.
“Well, Gobo,” Bambi began. His voice trembled and he felt very bewildered. He was deeply moved and very much surprised. “Well, so you’re not dead,” he said.
Gobo burst out laughing. “You see that I’m not dead,” he said; “at least I think you can see that I’m not.”
“But what happened that time in the snow?” Bambi persisted.
“Oh then?” Gobo said thoughtfully. “He rescued me then.”
“And where have you been all this time?” asked Faline in astonishment.
