There was a little rabbit who had perfectly curved ears and the fluffiest, whitest scut his colony had ever seen. The elder favoured him, because someone with so beautiful attire could only have a beautiful soul, and the young adored him and wanted to win his benevolence.
One day, a female came to him and said:
"I found the last clover growing before the winter, just there, and I want to give it to you, because you are both equally beautiful."
The little rabbit followed her to the place she had indicated, and indeed there was the last clover, and it smelled delicious.
"Thank you," he said and nuzzled the female, who ran away then.
Looking at the clover, the rabbit said to himself:
'This clover is really just as beautiful as I am, and I will not eat it right away. There is still enough other food and this one deserves admiration.'
He settled down next to the clover and started eating the grass that grew around it.
Before night fell, the female came back to the spot where the clover grew and was amazed because it was still there.
"Why didn't you eat the clover?" she asked. "Do you not like it?"
"I like it," he replied, "so much, indeed, that I don't want to eat it now, but enjoy its delicious smell a little longer."
The female and some of the other younger rabbits around who heard his words admired him then for his restraint.
Thus, for the next days, the younger rabbits assembled around the clover, looked and smelled at it, and yearned for it, but they did not eat it.
"What is going on here?" asked one of the elder who had noticed their behaviour.
"We enjoy the existence of the last clover before winter," explained the little rabbit. "It is as beautiful as I am, and it deserves as much attention as I do."
"But its beauty will wither away, and then it won't be edible anymore. Look at it, it is already quite old. You should rather eat it now, as long as it is tasty."
The little rabbit shook his head. "Beauty never dies, and the clover will only die when I eat it tomorrow."
But when he and the others left their den in the morning the grass was glittering with ice, because in the night the first frost had come over the land. The clover had died in the cold and lay on the ground dry and dead.