The Little Prince

 

23 

I did not answer. At that instant I was saying to myself: "If this bolt still won't 

turn, I am going to knock it out with the hammer." Again the little prince 

disturbed my thoughts.   

"And you actually believe that the flowers--"   

"Oh, no!" I cried. "No, no no! I don't believe anything. I answered you with the 

first thing that came into my head. Don't you see-- I am very busy with matters 

of consequence!"   

He stared at me, thunderstruck.   

"Matters of consequence!"   

He looked at me there, with my hammer in my hand, my fingers black with 

engine-grease, bending down over an object which seemed to him extremely 

ugly...   

"You talk just like the grown-ups!"   

That made me a little ashamed. But he went on, relentlessly:   

"You mix everything up together... You confuse everything..."   

He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.   

"I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never 

smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. 

He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says 

over and over, just like you: 'I am busy with matters of consequence!' And that 

makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a man-- he is a mushroom!"   

"A what?"   

"A mushroom!"   

The little prince was now white with rage.   

"The flowers have been growing thorns for millions of years. For millions of 

years the sheep have been eating them just the same. And is it not a matter 

of consequence to try to understand why the flowers go to so much trouble to 

grow thorns which are never of any use to them? Is the warfare between the 

sheep and the flowers not important? Is this not of more consequence than a 

fat red-faced gentleman's sums? And if I know-- I, myself-- one flower which 

is unique in the world, which grows nowhere but on my planet, but which one 

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little sheep can destroy in a single bite some morning, without even noticing 

what he is doing-- Oh! You think that is not important!"   

His face turned from white to red as he continued:   

"If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the 

millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at 

the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' But if the 

sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened... And you 

think that is not important!"   

He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing.   

 

The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment 

now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death? On one star, one planet, my 

planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my 

arms, and rocked him. I said to him:   

"The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your 

sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will--"   

I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not 

know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in 

hand with him once more.   

It is such a secret place, the land of tears. 

 

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25 

 

 Chapter 8   

  the rose arrives at the little prince's planet 

I soon learned to know this flower better. On the little prince's planet the 

flowers had always been very simple. They had only one ring of petals; they 

took up no room at all; they were a trouble to nobody. One morning they 

would appear in the grass, and by night they would have faded peacefully 

away. But one day, from a seed blown from no one knew where, a new flower 

had come up; and the little prince had watched very closely over this small 

sprout which was not like any other small sprouts on his planet. It might, you 

see, have been a new kind of baobab.   

The shrub soon stopped growing, and began to get ready to produce a flower. 

The little prince, who was present at the first appearance of a huge bud, felt at 

once that some sort of miraculous apparition must emerge from it. But the 

flower was not satisfied to complete the preparations for her beauty in the 

shelter of her green chamber. She chose her colours with the greatest care. 

She adjusted her petals one by one. She did not wish to go out into the world 

all rumpled, like the field poppies. It was only in the full radiance of her beauty 

that she wished to appear. Oh, yes! She was a coquettish creature! And her 

mysterious adornment lasted for days and days.   

 

Then one morning, exactly at sunrise, she suddenly showed herself.   

And, after working with all this painstaking precision, she yawned and said:   

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26 

"Ah! I am scarcely awake. I beg that you will excuse me. My petals are still all 

disarranged..."   

But the little prince could not restrain his admiration:   

"Oh! How beautiful you are!"   

"Am I not?" the flower responded, sweetly. "And I was born  at the same 

moment as the sun..."   

The little prince could guess easily enough that she was not any too modest-- 

but how moving-- and exciting-- she was!   

"I think it is time for breakfast," she added an instant later. "If you would have 

the kindness to think of my needs--"   

And the little prince, completely abashed, went to look for a sprinkling-can of 

fresh water. So, he tended the flower.   

 

So, too, she began very quickly to torment him with her vanity-- which was, if 

the truth be known, a little difficult to deal with. One day, for instance, when 

she was speaking of her four thorns, she said to the little prince:   

"Let the tigers come with their claws!"   

"There are no tigers on my planet," the little prince objected. "And, anyway, 

tigers do not eat weeds."   

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