A Hart pursued by hunters concealed himself among the branches of a Vine.
The hunters passed by without discovering him and when he thought that all was safe, he began browsing upon the leaves that had concealed him.
But one of the hunters, attracted by the rustling, turned round and guessing that their prey was there, shot into the bush and killed him.
As he was dying, he groaned out these words:
“I suffer justly for my ingratitude, who could not forbear injuring the Vine that had protected me in time of danger.”