The grasshopper was sitting with his head lowered as though he were going to butt. He put on a serious face and murmured, “That doesn’t interest me at all. I haven’t time to stand here gossiping with you. I have to be looking for my wife. Hopp!” And he gave a jump. “Hopp!” said Bambi in surprise at the high jump with which the grasshopper vanished. Bambi ran to his mother. “Mother, I spoke to him,” he cried. “To whom?” his mother asked. “To the grasshopper,” Bambi said, “I spoke to him. He was very nice to me. And I like him so much. He’s so wonderful and green and you can see through his sides. They look like leaves, but you can’t see through a leaf.” “Those are his wings,” said his mother. “O,” Bambi went on, “and his face is so serious and wise. But he was very nice to me anyhow. And how he can jump! ‘Hopp!’ he said, and he jumped so high I couldn’t see him any more.” They walked on. The conversation with the grasshopper had excited Bambi and tired him a little, for it was the first time he had ever spoken to a stranger. He felt hungry and pressed close to his mother to be nursed. Then he stood quietly and gazed dreamily into space for a little while with a sort of joyous ecstasy that came over him every time he was nursed by his mother. He noticed a bright flower moving in the tangled grasses. Bambi looked more closely at it. No, it wasn’t a flower, but a butterfly. Bambi crept closer. The butterfly hung heavily to a grass stem and fanned its wings slowly. “Please sit still,” Bambi said. “Why should I sit still? I’m a butterfly,” the insect answered in astonishment. “O, please sit still, just for a minute,” Bambi pleaded, “I’ve wanted so much to see you close to. Please.” “Well,” said the butterfly, “for your sake I will, but not for long.” Bambi stood in front of him. “How beautiful you are!” he cried fascinated; “how wonderfully beautiful, like a flower!” “What?” cried the butterfly, fanning his wings, “did you say like a flower? In my circle it’s generally supposed that we’re handsomer than flowers.” Bambi was embarrassed. “O, yes,” he stammered, “much handsomer, excuse me, I only meant ...” “Whatever you meant is all one to me,” the butterfly replied. He arched his thin body affectedly and played with his delicate feelers. Bambi looked at him enchanted. “How elegant you are!” he said. “How elegant and fine! And how splendid and white your wings are!” The butterfly spread his wings wide apart, then raised them till they folded together like an upright sail. “O,” cried Bambi, “I know that you are handsomer than the flowers. Besides, you can fly and the flowers can’t because they grow on stems, that’s why.” The butterfly spread his wings. “It’s enough,” he said, “that I can fly.” He soared so lightly that Bambi could hardly see him or follow his flight. His wings moved gently and gracefully. Then he fluttered into the sunny air.