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we talk about?” She was silent, but went on after a little while. “Which of us will go first?”
    â€œThere’s still plenty of time to worry about that,” the other leaf assured her. “Let’s remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we’d burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew, and the mild and splendid nights . . .”
    â€œNow the nights are dreadful,” the second leaf complained, “and there is no end to them.”
    â€œWe shouldn’t complain,” said the first leaf gently. “We’ve outlived many, many others.”
    â€œHave I changed much?” asked the second leaf shyly but determinedly.
    â€œNot in the least,” the first leaf assured her. “You only think so because I’ve got to be so yellow and ugly. But it’s different in your case.”
    â€œYou’re fooling me,” the second leaf said.
    â€œNo, really,” the first leaf exclaimed eagerly, “believe me, you’re as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot but it’s hardly noticeable and only makes you handsomer, believe me.”
    â€œThanks,” whispered the second leaf, quite touched. “I don’t believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you’re so kind, you’ve always been so kind to me. I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.”
    â€œHush,” said the other leaf, and kept silent herself for she was too troubled to talk any more.
    Then they were both silent. Hours passed.
    A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the treetops.
    â€œAh, now,” said the second leaf, “I . . .” Then her voice broke off. She was torn from her place and spun down.
    Winter had come.

Chapter Nine
    B AMBI NOTICED THAT THE WORLD was changed. It was hard for him to get used to this altered world. They had all lived like rich folk and now had fallen upon hard times. For Bambi knew nothing but abundance. He took it for granted that he would always have plenty to eat. He thought he would never need to trouble about food. He believed he would always sleep in the lovely green-leafed glade where no one could see him, and would always go about in his smooth, handsome, glossy red coat.
    Now everything was changed without his having noticed the change take place. The process that was ending had seemed only a series of episodes to him. It pleased him to see the milk-white veils of mist steam from the meadow in the morning, or drop suddenly from the gray sky at dawn. They vanished so beautifully in the sunshine. The hoarfrost that covered the meadow with such dazzling whiteness delighted him, too. Sometimes he liked to listen to his big cousins the elk. The whole forest would tremble with their kingly voices. Bambi used to listen and be very much frightened, but his heart would beat high with admiration when he heard them calling. He remembered that the kings had antlers branching like tall, strong trees. And it seemed to him that their voices were as powerful as their antlers. Whenever he heard the deep tones of those voices he would stand motionless. Their deep voices rolled toward him like the mighty moaning of noble, maddened blood whose primal power was giving utterance to longing, rage and pride. Bambi struggled in vain against his fears. They overpowered him whenever he heard those voices, but he was proud to have such noble relatives. At the same time he felt a strange sense of annoyance because they were so unapproachable. It offended and humiliated him without his knowing exactly how or why, even without his being particularly conscious of it.
    It was only after the mating season had passed and the thunder of the stags’ mighty voices had grown still that Bambi began to notice other things once more. At night when he roamed through the forest or by day as he lay in the glade,