Chapter 7

ON THE FIFTH DAY, thanks again to the sheep, another secret of the little prince’s life was revealed to me. Abruptly, with no preamble, he asked me, as if it were the fruit of a problem long pondered in silence:

“If a sheep eats bushes, does it eat flowers, too?”

“A sheep eats whatever it finds.”

“Even flowers that have thorns?”

“Yes. Even flowers that have thorns.”

“Then what good are thorns?”

I didn’t know. At that moment I was very busy trying to unscrew a bolt that was jammed in my engine. I was quite worried, for my plane crash was beginning to seem extremely serious, and the lack of drinking water made me fear the worst.

“What good are thorns?”

The little prince never let go of a question once he had asked it. I was annoyed by my jammed bolt, and I answered without thinking.

“Thorns are no good for anything – they’re just the flowers’ way of being mean!”

“Oh!” But after a silence, he lashed out at me, with a sort of bitterness.

“I don’t believe you! Flowers are weak. They’re naive. They reassure themselves whatever way they can. They believe their thorns make them frightening…”

I made no answer. At that moment I was thinking, “If this bolt stays jammed, I’ll knock it off with the hammer.” Again the little prince disturbed my reflections.

“Then you think flowers…”

“No, not at all. I don’t think anything! I just said whatever came into my head. I’m busy here with something serious!”

He stared at me, astounded.

“Something serious!”

He saw me holding my hammer, my fingers black with grease, bending over an object he regarded as very ugly.

“You talk like the grown-ups!”

That made me a little ashamed. But he added, mercilessly:

“You confuse everything . . . You’ve got it all mixed up!” He was really very annoyed. He tossed his golden curls in the wind. “I know a planet inhabited by a red-faced gentleman. He’s never smelled a flower. He’s never looked at a star. He’s never loved anyone. He’s never done anything except add up numbers. And all day long he says over and over, just like you, ‘I’m a serious man! I’m a serious man!’ And that puffs him up with pride. But he’s not a man at all—he’s a mushroom!”

“He’s a what?”

“A mushroom!” The little prince was now quite pale with rage. “For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it’s not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It’s not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It’s no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up?

“Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he’s doing – that isn’t important?” 

His face turned red now, and he went on. “If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that’s enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, ‘My flower’s up there somewhere…’ But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it’s as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn’t important?”

He couldn’t say another word. All of a sudden he burst out sobbing. Night had fallen. I dropped my tools. What did I care about my hammer, about my bolt, about thirst and death? There was, on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, ”The flower you love is not in danger… I’ll draw you a muzzle for your sheep… I’ll draw you a fence for your flower… I…”

I didn’t know what to say. How clumsy I felt! I didn’t know how to reach him, where to find him… It’s so mysterious, the land of tears.

 

Chapter 8

I SOON LEARNED to know that flower better. On the little prince’s planet, there had always been very simple flowers, decorated with a single row of petals so that they took up no room at all and got in no one’s way. They would appear one morning in the grass, and would fade by nightfall. But this one had grown from a seed brought from who knows where, and the little prince had kept a close watch over a sprout that was not like any of the others. It might have been a new kind of bao- bab. But the sprout soon stopped growing and began to show signs of blossoming.

The little prince, who had watched the development of an enormous bud, realized that some sort of miraculous apparition would emerge from it, but the flower continued her beauty prepara- tions in the shelter of her green chamber, selecting her colors with the greatest care and dressing quite deliber- ately, adjusting her petals one by one. She had no desire to emerge all rumpled, like the poppies. She wished to appear only in the full radiance of her beauty.

Oh yes, she was quite vain! And her mysterious adornment had lasted days and days. And then one morning, precisely at sunrise, she showed herself.

And after having labored so painstakingly, she yawned and said, “Ah! I’m hardly awake… Forgive me… I’m still all untidy…”

But the little prince couldn’t contain his admiration.

“How lovely you are!”

“Aren’t I?” the flower answered sweetly. “And I was born the same time as the sun…”

The little prince realized that she wasn’t any too modest, but she was so dazzling!

“I believe it is breakfast time,” she had soon added. “Would you be so kind as to tend to me?”

And the little prince, utterly abashed, having gone to look for a watering can, served the flower.

She had soon begun tormenting him with her rather touchy vanity. One day, for instance, alluding to her four thorns, she remarked to the little prince, “I’m ready for tigers, with all their claws!”

“There are no tigers on my planet,” the little prince had objected, “and besides, tigers don’t eat weeds.”

“I am not a weed,” the flower sweetly replied.”

“Forgive me…”

“I am not at all afraid of tigers, but I have a horror of drafts. You wouldn’t happen to have a screen?”

“A horror of drafts…” that’s not a good sign, for a plant,” the little prince had observed. “How complicated this flower is…”

“After dark you will put me under glass. How cold it is where you live – quite uncomfortable. Where I come from-” But she suddenly broke off. She had come here as a seed. She couldn’t have known anything of other worlds.

Humiliated at having let herself be caught on the verge of so naive a lie, she coughed two or three times in order to put the little prince in the wrong. “That screen?”

“I was going to look for one, but you were speaking to me!”

Then she made herself cough again, in order to inflict a twinge of remorse on him all the same.

So the little prince, despite all the goodwill of his love, had soon come to mistrust her. He had taken seriously certain inconsequential remarks and had grown very unhappy.

“I shouldn’t have listened to her,” he confided to me one day. “You must never listen to flowers. You must look at them and smell them. Mine perfumed my planet, but I didn’t know how to enjoy that. The business about the tiger claws, instead of annoying me, ought to have moved me…”

And he confided further, “In those days, I didn’t understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”

 

Chapter 9

IN ORDER TO make his escape, I believe he took ad- vantage of a migration of wild birds. On the morning of his departure, he put his planet in order. He carefully raked out his active volcanoes. The little prince possessed two active volcanoes, which were very con- venient for warming his breakfast.

He also possessed one extinct volcano. But, as he said, “You never know!”

So he raked out the extinct volcano, too. If they are properly raked out, volcanoes burn gently and regularly, without eruptions. Volcanic eruptions are like fires in a chimney.

Of course, on our Earth we are much too rake out our volcanoes. That is why they so much trouble.

The little prince also uprooted, a little sadly, the last baobab shoots. He believed he would never be coming back. But all these familiar tasks seemed very sweet to him on this last morning. And when he watered the flower one last time, and put her under glass, he felt like crying.

“Good-bye,” he said to the flower. But she did not answer him.

“Good-bye,” he repeated.

The flower coughed. But not because she had a cold.

“I’ve been silly,” she told him at last. “I ask your forgiveness. Try to be happy.”

He was surprised that there were no reproaches. He stood there, quite bewildered, holding the glass bell in midair. He failed to understand this calm sweetness.

“Of course I love you,” the flower told him. “It was my fault you never knew. It doesn’t matter. But you were just as silly as I was. Try to be happy… Put that glass thing down. I don’t want it anymore.”

“But the wind…”

“My cold isn’t that bad…” The night air will do me good. I’m a flower.”

“But the animals…”

“I need to put up with two or three caterpillars if I want to get to know the butterflies. Apparently they’re very beautiful. Otherwise who will visit me? You’ll be far away. As for the big animals, I’m not afraid of them. I have my own claws.” And she naively showed her four thorns.

Then she added, “Don’t hang around like this; it’s irritating. You made up your mind to leave. Now go.”

For she didn’t want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower…

 

Chapter 10

HE HAPPENED TO BE in the vicinity of Asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, and 330. So he began by visiting them, to keep himself busy and to learn something.

The first one was inhabited by a king. Wearing purple and ermine, he was sitting on a simple yet majestic throne.

“Ah! Here’s a subject!” the king exclaimed when he caught sight of the little prince.

And the little prince wondered, “How can he know who I am if he’s never seen me before?” He didn’t realize that for kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

“Approach the throne so I can get a better look at you,” said the king, very proud of being a king for someone at last.

The little prince looked around for a place to sit down, but the planet was covered by the magnificent ermine cloak. So he remained standing, and since he was tired, he yawned.

“It is a violation of etiquette to yawn in a king’s presence,” the monarch told him. “I forbid you to do so”

“I can’t help it,” answered the little prince, quite embarrassed. “I’ve made a long journey, and I haven’t had any sleep…”

“Then I command you to yawn,” said the king. “I haven’t seen anyone yawn for years. For me, yawns are a curiosity. Come on, yawn again! It is an order.”

“That intimidates me…I can’t do it now,” said the little prince, blushing deeply.

“Well, well!” the king replied. “Then I…” I command you to yawn sometimes and sometimes to…”

He was sputtering a little, and seemed annoyed.

For the king insisted that his authority be universally respected. He would tolerate no disobedience, being an absolute monarch. But since he was a kindly man, all his commands were reasonable.

“If I were to command,” he would often say, “if I were to command a general to turn into a seagull, and if the general did not obey, that would not be the general’s fault. It would be mine.”

“May I sit down?” the little prince timidly inquired.

“I command you to sit down,” the king replied, majestically gathering up a fold of his ermine robe.

But the little prince was wondering. The planet was tiny. Over what could the king really reign? “Sire…” he ventured, “excuse me for asking…”

“I command you to ask,” the king hastened to say.

“Sire…” over what do you reign?”

“Over everything,” the king answered, with great simplicity.

“Over everything?”

With a discreet gesture the king pointed to his planet, to the other planets, and to the stars.

“Over all that?” asked the little prince.

“Over all that…” the king answered.

For not only was he an absolute monarch, but a universal monarch as well.

“And do the stars obey you?”

“Of course,” the king replied. “They obey immediately. I tolerate no insubordination.”

Such power amazed the little prince. If he had wielded it himself, he could have watched not forty- four but seventy-two, or even a hundred, even two hundred sunsets on the same day without ever having to move his chair! And since he was feeling rather sad on account of remembering his own little planet, which he had forsaken, he ventured to ask a favor of the king:

“I’d like to see a sunset… Do me a favor, your majesty… Command the sun to set…”

“If I commanded a general to fly from one flower to the next like a butterfly, or to write a tragedy, or to turn into a seagull, and if the general did not carry out my command, which of us would be in the wrong, the general or me?”

“You would be,” said the little prince, quite firmly. “Exactly. One must command from each what each can perform,” the king went on. “Authority is based first of all upon reason. If you command your subjects to jump in the ocean, there will be a revolution. I am entitled to command obedience because my orders are reasonable.”

“Then my sunset?” insisted the little prince, who never let go of a question once he had asked it.

“You shall have your sunset. I shall command it. But I shall wait, according to my science of government, until conditions are favorable.”

“And when will that be?” inquired the little prince.

“Well, well!” replied the king, first consulting a large calendar. “Well, well! That will be around…around… that will be tonight around seven-forty! And you’ll see how well I am obeyed.”

The little prince yawned. He was regretting his lost sunset. And besides, he was already growing a little bored. “I have nothing further to do here,” he told the king. “I’m going to be on my way!”

“Do not leave!” answered the king, who was so proud of having a subject. “Do not leave; I shall make you my minister!”

“A minister of what?”

“Of… of justice.”

“But there’s no one here to judge!”

“You never know,” the king told him. “I have not yet explored the whole of my realm. I am very old, I have no room for a carriage, and it wearies me to walk.”

“Oh, but I’ve already seen for myself,” said the little prince, leaning forward to glance one more time at the other side of the planet. “There’s no one over there, either...”

“Then you shall pass judgment on yourself,” the king answered. “That is the hardest thing of all. It is much harder to judge yourself than to judge others. If you succeed in judging yourself, it’s because you are truly a wise man.”

“But I can judge myself anywhere,” said the little prince. “I don’t need to live here.”

“Well, well!” the king said. “I have good reason to believe that there is an old rat living somewhere on my planet. I hear him at night. You could judge that old rat. From time to time you will condemn him to death. That way his life will depend on your justice. But you’ll pardon him each time for economy’s sake. There’s only one rat.”

“I don’t like condemning anyone to death,” the little prince said, “and now I think I’ll be on my way.”

“No,” said the king.

The little prince, having completed his preparations, had no desire to aggrieve the old monarch. “If Your Majesty desires to be promptly obeyed, he should give me a reasonable command. He might command me, for instance, to leave before this minute is up. It seems to me that conditions are favorable…”

The king having made no answer, the little prince hesitated at first, and then, with a sigh, took his leave.

“I make you my ambassador,” the king hastily shouted after him. He had a great air of authority.

“Grown-ups are so strange,” the little prince said to himself as he went on his way.

 

Chapter 11

    THE SECOND PLANET was inhabited by a very vain man.

“Ah! A visit from an admirer!” he exclaimed when he caught sight of the little prince, still at some distance. To vain men, other people are admirers.

“Hello,” said the little prince. “That’s a funny hat you’re wearing.”

“It’s for answering acclamations,” the very vain man replied. “Unfortunately, no one ever comes this way.”

“Is that so?” said the little prince, who did not understand what the vain man was talking about.

“Clap your hands,” directed the man.

The little prince clapped his hands, and the vain man tipped his hat in modest acknowledgment.

“This is more entertaining than the visit to the king,” the little prince said to himself. And he continued clapping. The very vain man continued tipping his hat in acknowledgment.

After five minutes of this exercise, the little prince tired of the game’s monotony. “And what would make the hat fall off?” he asked.

But the vain man did not hear him. Vain men never hear anything but praise.

“Do you really admire me a great deal?” he asked the little prince.

“What does that mean 'admire'?”

“To admire means to acknowledge that I am the handsomest, the best-dressed, the richest, and the most intelligent man on the planet.”

“But you’re the only man on your planet!”

“Do me this favor. Admire me all the same.”

“I admire you,” said the little prince, with a little shrug of his shoulders, “but what is there about my admiration that interests you so much?” And the little prince went on his way.

“Grown-ups are certainly very strange,” he said to himself as he continued on his journey.

 

Chapter 12

The next planet was inhabited by a drunkard. This visit was a very brief one, but it plunged the little prince into a deep depression.

“What are you doing there?” he asked the drunkard, whom he found sunk in silence before a collection of empty bottles and a collection of full ones.

“Drinking,” replied the drunkard, with a gloomy expression.

“Why are you drinking?” the little prince asked.

“To forget,” replied the drunkard.

“To forget what?” inquired the little prince, who was already feeling sorry for him.

“To forget that I’m ashamed,” confessed the drunkard, hanging his head.

“What are you ashamed of?” inquired the little prince, who wanted to help.

“Of drinking!” concluded the drunkard, withdrawing into silence for good. And the little prince went on his way, puzzled.

“Grown-ups are certainly very, very strange,” he said to himself as he continued on his journey.