“With who?” his mother asked.
“Well, with the grasshopper,” Bambi explained, “I was talking with him. He was so friendly to me. And I liked him so much. He’s so green, it’s wonderful, and on his back you can see right through him, there aren’t any leaves like that, not even the finest leaf.”
“That was his wings.”
“Was it?” Bambi continued speaking. “And he’s got such a serious face, as if he were thinking hard about something. But he was friendly to me anyway. And he can jump so high! That must be awfully hard. “Hop!! he said, and he jumped so high that I couldn’t see him any more.
They walked on. Bambi was very excited about his conversation with the grasshopper, and he was a little tired as it was the first time he had talked with a stranger. He was hungry, and pressed close to his mother so that he could refresh himself.
Then, when he was once more standing there for a while, just staring ahead of him in the sweet, little inebriation that always enveloped him when he had drunk all he had wanted from his mother, he saw a whitish flower down in the tangle of grass stems. It moved. Bambi looked closer. No, that was not a flower, it was a butterfly. Bambi crept closer.
The butterfly was hanging listlessly from a stem of grass, and gently moved his wings about.
“Please, stay where you are,” Bambi called to him.
“Why should I stay where I am? I am a butterfly, after all,” he asked in astonishment.
“Oh, please stay where you are, just for a little while,” Bambi begged him, “I’ve been wanting to see you close up for so long now. Please be so kind.”