They fluttered by

The one on the left is a small skipper, revealed to be a male by the curved line of scent scales across its wing.
On the right is a speckled wood showing its underside. I'm not sure what sex it is.

The great lepidopterist (and writer) Vladimir Nabokov died in the summer of 1977. His son Dmitri reported that
A few days before he died there was a moment I remember with special clarity. During the penultimate farewell, after I had kissed his still-warm forehead – as I had for years when saying goodbye – tears suddenly welled in Father’s eyes. I asked him why. He replied that certain butterfly was already on the wing; and his eyes told me he no longer hoped that he would live to pursue it again.