The Little Prince (English)

The Little Prince

 

Copyright © 2013 Nik Marcel

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be decompiled, reverse engineered, reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) now known or hereinafter invented, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

This dual-language (bilingual) edition, including its compartmentalised structure, its formatting, and its translation, is owned by Nik Marcel.

2Language Books

(A Bilingual Dual-Language Project)

 

To Léon Werth

To all children, please excuse me for having dedicated this book to a grown-up.

I have a serious reason: this grown-up is the best friend that I have in the world. I have another reason: this person can understand anything, even books written for children. I have a third reason: this grown-up lives in France, where he is hungry and cold. He is in need of being comforted.

If all these excuses are not sufficient, then I shall dedicate this book to the child whom this adult once was. All grown-ups have first of all been children. (Although few of them recall this.) Therefore, I correct my dedication:

To Léon Werth, when he was a little boy.

Chapter I

When I was six years old I saw, one time, a magnificent picture in a book about a pristine forest. The book was called Past Recollections. It depicted a boa constrictor swallowing a wild animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.

It said in the book: “Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. Afterwards they cannot even budge, and they sleep during the six months of digestion.”

I have thus thought a lot about adventures in the jungle, and I in turn have managed, with a coloured crayon, to sketch my first drawing.  My drawing number one, it looked like this:

I have shown my masterpiece to some grown-ups, and asked them if my drawing made them feel scared.

They responded to me thus: “Why would a hat make me scared?”

My drawing did not depict a hat. It showed a boa constrictor having had digested an elephant. I then drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so that the grown-ups could understand. They are always in need of explanations. My drawing number two looked like this:

These grown-ups suggested I put aside the drawings of boa constrictors, including their insides, and to concern myself instead with geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar.

It is thus that I abandoned, at the age of six years, a magnificent career in painting. I was discouraged by the failure of my drawings.

Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiring for children to always give them explanations. Hence I decided to choose another career path. I learnt to fly airplanes.

I have flown a little all over the world; and geography, it is true, has served me well. I can distinguish China from Arizona at a glance. It is useful, if one is lost during the night.

I have thus had, during the course of my life, a lot of contact with many serious people. I have spent a lot of time among grown-ups. I have seen them up close. This has not much improved my opinion of them.

Whenever I met one who seemed a little lucid, I tried the exercise of showing them my drawings, which I have always kept.

I wanted to know if this grown-up was actually intelligent, but they would always reply: “It is a hat.”

Then I would never speak to them of boa constrictors, nor of pristine forests, and nor of stars. I put myself on their level. I talked to them about bridge, and golf, and politics, and ties. And the grown-up would be glad to have met such a sensible man...

Chapter II

I have thus lived all alone, without anyone with which to really speak, until my plane had a breakdown in the Sahara desert, some six years ago.

Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I prepared myself to make the difficult repair job without any help. It was for me a question of life or death: I had hardly enough drinking water for one week.

The first night, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any settlement. I was more isolated than a castaway on a raft in the middle of the ocean.

Thus, you can imagine my surprise when, at sunrise, a funny little voice woke me up. It said: “If you will... draw me a sheep!”

“Hey?!”

“Draw me a sheep...”

I jumped to my feet, as if I had been struck by lightning. I blinked my eyes rapidly. I had a good look around. And I saw quite an extraordinary little man, studying me gravely. Here is the best portrait that, later on, I was able to make of him.

However, my drawing is certainly very much less ravishing than the model. That is not my fault. At the age of six, I was discouraged in my career as a painter by the grown-ups. So I never learnt to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas showing their insides.

I therefore stared at this apparition, my eyes wide with astonishment. Do not forget that I found myself a thousand miles from any inhabited region.

Despite this, my little man seemed not to be lost, nor to be dying from fatigue, nor of hunger, nor of thirst, and neither from fear. He showed no indication of being of a child lost in the middle of the desert, a thousand miles from any populated region.

When I finally managed to speak, I said to him: “But what are you doing here?” He then repeated to me, very slowly, as if it was very serious: “If you will... draw me a sheep...”

When a mystery is too overwhelming, one dare not disobey. As absurd as it seemed to me, a thousand miles from anywhere and in danger of dying, I nonetheless took from my pocket a sheet of paper and a pen.

But then I recalled that I had primarily studied geography, history, arithmetic and grammar, and I said to the little fellow (with a subtle hint of sarcasm) that I did not know how to draw.

He answered me: “That does not matter. Draw me a sheep...”

Since I had never drawn a sheep, I redrew one of the only two drawings of which I was capable. It was the outside of a boa constrictor. And I was stupefied to hear the little fellow respond:

“No! No! I do not want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa is very dangerous, and an elephant is very cumbersome. My place is really small. I am in need of a sheep. Draw me a sheep.”

So I made a drawing. 

He looked at it attentively, and then: “No. This one is already very ill looking. Make me another one.”

I made another drawing. My friend smiled gently, with sympathy: “You can easily see... it is not a sheep, it is a ram. It has horns.”

So I redid my drawing yet again, but it was rejected like the previous ones. “This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live long time.”

So, lacking in patience — as I was keen to commence the disassembly of my motor — I scrawled this drawing, and said flippantly: “This here is the box. The sheep that you want is inside.”

However I was much surprised to see the face of my young judge light up: “That is exactly what I wanted. Do you think that this sheep needs of a lot of grass?”

“Why?”

“Because at my place everything is very small...”

“There will surely be sufficient. I have given you a very little sheep.”

He lowered his gaze towards the drawing. “Not so small that...Look! He is asleep...”

And so it was that I made the acquaintance of the little prince.

Chapter III

It took me a long time to find out where he came from. The little prince, who always posed so many questions, never seemed to hear mine. It was from words spoken offhandedly that, little by little, all was revealed to me.

So, when he saw my plane for the first time (I shall not draw my airplane; it is much too complicated a drawing for me), he demanded: “What is that thing there?”

“It is not a ‘thing’. It flies. It is an airplane. It is my airplane.” And I was proud to tell him that I could fly. Then he cried out: “What! You have fallen from the sky!”

“Yes,” said I, modestly.

“Oh! That is funny!” And the little prince had a very nice burst of laughter, which irritated me a lot. I prefer it that one takes my troubles seriously. Then he added:

“So you also come from the sky! From which planet are you?”

I suddenly caught a glint from the mystery of his presence, and demanded abruptly: “So you come from another planet?” But he did not reply.

He rocked his head gently, absorbed in looking at my plane: “It is true that you cannot have come from very far on that...” And he sank into a daydream which lasted a long time. Then, taking my sheep from his pocket, he plunged himself into contemplation of his treasure.

You can imagine how I was intrigued by this seeming confidence about ‘the other planets.’ So I endeavoured to learn some more:

“From where do you come, my little man? What is this ‘my place’? Where do you want to take my sheep?”

He responded after a meditative silence: “What is good, about the box that you have given me, is that at night it can serve as a house.”

“Certainly. And if you are good I will also give you a rope to tie him up during the day. And a picket as well.”

The proposition seemed to shock the little prince:  “Tie him? What a funny idea!”

“But if you do not tie him, he will go who knows where, and he will become lost...”

And my friend had a new round of laughter: “But where do you want him to go?”

“It matters not where; straight ahead of him...”

Then the little prince remarked gravely: “It is of no consequence, for my place is so little.” And, with perhaps a little melancholy: “Straight ahead, one cannot go very far...”

Chapter IV

I had thus learnt a second very importance detail: the planet where he came from was hardly bigger than a house! That would not have surprised me much.

I knew very well that as well as the great planets like Earth, Jupiter, Mars, and Venus — which we have given names — there are some hundreds of others. These are often times so tiny that one can even have a great deal of trouble seeing them through a telescope. When an astronomer discovers one of them, for a name he gives it a number. He calls it, for example, ‘Asteroid 325’.

I have serious reasons for believing that the planet where the little prince came from was asteroid B-612.

This asteroid has been perceived just one time through a telescope: in 1909, by a Turkish astronomer.

Afterwards, he made a grand demonstration of his discovery to an international congress on astronomy. But nobody believed him because of his costume. Grown-ups are like that.

Fortunately for the reputation of Asteroid B-612, a Turkish dictator made his people, under penalty of death, wear European clothes. The astronomer repeated his demonstration in 1920; he was dressed in a very elegant outfit; and this time everyone accepted his review.

If I have recounted these details about the asteroid B612, and if I have told you its number, it is because of grown-ups. Grown-ups love figures.

When you tell them of a new friend, they never question you about what is essential. They never say to you: “What is the sound of his voice like? What are the games that he prefers? Does he collect butterflies?”

They demand of you: “What age is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much does his father earn?” Only then will they think they learnt something about him.

If you say to the grown-ups: “I have seen a beautiful house in reddish brick, with some geraniums in the windows and some doves on the roof...” they could not imagine such a house.

One must say to them: “I have seen a house worth twenty thousand dollars.” Then they would cry out: “Oh how beautiful it is!”

Thus, if you say to them: “The proof that the little prince existed is that he was enchanting, that he laughed, and that he wanted a sheep. When one wants a sheep, that is proof enough that one exists.” They would simply shrug their shoulders and treat you like a child!

But if you say to them: “The planet from where he came from is Asteroid B-612,” then they would be convinced, and they would leave you in peace, without further questions. They are like that. One need not find them wanting. Children must be very patience with grown-ups.

But certainly, for us who understand life, we have little respect for numbers. I would have loved to commence this story in the fashion of a fairy-tale. I would have loved to say: “At one time there was a little prince who lived on a planet that was hardly bigger than himself, and he had need of a friend...”

For those who understand life, that would have would have appeared much more accurate — for I do not want anyone to take my book lightly. I have felt so much sorrow in putting down these memories.

It has already been six years since my friend went away with his sheep. If I try here to describe him, it is so as not to forget him. It is sad to forget a friend. Not everyone has had a friend. And, I may become like the grown-ups who are no longer interested in anything other than figures.

It is for this reason that I began anew: I purchased a box of crayons and some pencils.

It is tough to return to drawing, at my age — when, from the age of six, I have never attempted anything other than those of a boa from the outside and a boa showing its insides.

I will try, for sure, to make some portraits showing the most resemblance possible. But I am not assured of success. One drawing goes okay, and another has no likeness at all.

I am a little wrong also with his size: here the little prince is too big; there he is too small. I am hesitant also with the colour of his costume. So I fumble along — some go like this, and others go like that — for better or worse.

I deceive myself, as well, over some other important details. But for that you must excuse me. My friend never gave explanations. Perhaps he assumed I was like him. But as for me... unfortunately, I cannot see sheep through boxes.

I am perhaps a little like the grown-ups. I have become.

Chapter V

Each day I learnt something about his planet, and about the departure and voyage.

It came very slowly, by chance from his reflections.  It was thus that, on the third day, I learnt of the drama with baobabs. This time, once again, it was from the grace of the sheep. The little prince demanded brusquely, as if taken by a grave doubt: “it is true, is it not, that sheep eat bushes?”

“Yes. It is true.”

“Ah! I am glad!”

I did not understand why it was so important that sheep eat bushes. But the little prince added: “By consequence they also eat baobabs?”

I remarked to the little prince that baobabs are not bushes, but are rather, great trees like churches; and that even if he carried with him a whole herd of elephants, this herd would not defeat even a single baobab.

The idea of a herd of elephants made the little prince laugh: “One must stack them one on top of the other...” But he remarked sagely: “The baobabs... though being huge, they start out by being small.”

“Exactly! But why do you want sheep to munch on the little baobabs?”

He responded to me: “Well, come on!” as if it were obvious, and that I alone was supposed to make a great intellectual effort to understand this problem.

And in truth, on the little prince’s planet there were — as on all planets — some good plants, and some bad plants.

In consequence, there were good seeds from good plants, and bad seeds from bad plants. But seeds are invisible. They lie dormant in the depths of the earth, until it is that one of them takes a fancy to waking up:

it stretches, and then sprouts — first of all timidly — towards the sun, a delightful little harmless shoot.

If it is a shoot of a radish or a flower, one can let it grow as it likes. However if it is a bad plant, it is necessary to pull it out immediately: when one has just recognised it.

Now, there were some terrible seeds on the little prince’s planet... these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of the planet was infested with them.

So, with a baobab, if one takes too long, one will no longer be able to get rid of it. It swallows up the entire planet. It drills with its roots; if the planet is too small, and if the baobabs are too many, they make it shatter.

“It is a question of discipline,” the little prince said to me a little later. “When you have finished your morning ablutions, you must thoroughly tend to those of the planet. You absolutely have to routinely pull up the baobab seedlings as soon as you can distinguish them from the other bushes — which they look a lot like when they are very young. It is very boring work, but also very easy.”

And, one day he suggested I apply myself to making a beautiful drawing: to put this into the heads of the children where I live. “If they travel one day, he said to me, it could serve them well. Sometimes, there is no problem in postponing your work. But, when it concerns the baobabs, the result is always a catastrophe. I knew of a planet inhabited by a lazy person. He neglected just three bushes...”

And, under the guidance of the little prince, I drew that planet.

I little like to take the tone of a moralist. But the danger from the baobabs is so little known, and the risks run by anyone who might get lost on an asteroid are so great, that, just this once, I will make an exception to my objection.

I say this: “Children! Pay attention to the baobabs!”

It is to warn my friends of the danger — which they, like myself, have unknowingly brushed aside for so long — that I have worked so hard on this drawing. The lesson that I give to them is worth the effort.

You may perhaps inquire: Why are there not, in this book, some other drawings as splendid as the one of the baobabs?

The response is very simple: I have tried, but I could not succeed. When I drew the baobabs I was inspired by a sense of urgency.

Chapter VI

Ah! little prince, I have thus come to understand, little by little, your melancholic little life.

For so long you have never had any comfort other than the delicacy of the setting sun. I learnt this new detail on the fourth morning, when you said to me: “I simply love the setting sun. Let’s go and see a sunset...”

“But we must wait...”

“Wait for what?”

“Wait for the sun to set.”

You had the air of being greatly surprised at first; and then had a good laugh at yourself.

And you said to me: “I am always thinking I am at my place!”

Indeed. When it is midday in the United States, the sun (as everybody well knows) is setting over France. If we had the capability of going to France in one minute, we could view a setting sun. Unfortunately, France is much too far away. But, on such a tiny planet, it is enough to shift your chair a few steps. And you can watch dusk fall anytime that you desire...

“One day I saw the sun set forty-four times!” And a little later you added: “You know, when one is really sad, one loves the setting sun...”

“This day of the forty-four times, were you so very sad?” But the little prince did not respond.

Chapter VII

On the fifth day, again thanks to the sheep, the secret of the little prince's life was revealed to me.

He demanded suddenly — without notice, as if it was the fruit of a problem, born from a long silent contemplation: “A sheep, if it eats bushes, it will also eat flowers?”

“A sheep eats everything it comes across.”

“Even flowers that have thorns?”

“Yes. Even flowers that have thorns.”

“Then the thorns, what use are they?”

“That I do not know.”

I was at the time very much occupied with trying to unscrew a bolt which was stuck fast in my motor. I was really concerned as my breakdown was beginning to seem to me to be very grave indeed, and the drinking-water nearly running out made me fear the worst.

“The thorns, what use are they?”

The little prince never let go of a question, once he had posed it.

I was irritated by the bolt, and I responded flippantly: “The thorns, they serve no purpose. It is the height of nastiness on the part of the flowers!”

“Oh!” However, after a silence he launched into me, with a sort of resentfulness: “I do not believe you! Flowers are feeble. They are naïve. They reassure themselves as best they can. They believe themselves ferocious, with their thorns...”

I did not reply. At that instant I said to myself: “If this bolt still resists, I will knock it out with a blow from the hammer.”

The little prince once again disturbed my thoughts: “And you really believe that the flowers...”

“Well no! Well no! I do not believe anything! I have answered offhandedly. I am preoccupied with very serious matters!”

Stupefied, he looked at me. “Concerned with serious matters!” He looked at me — with a hammer in my hand and oil blackened fingers, leaning over an object which to him seemed very ugly. “You talk like grown-ups do!”

That made me a little ashamed. But, mercilessly, he added: “You confuse everything... you mix up everything...”

He was really very irritated. He tossed his golden hair in the wind:

“I know a planet where there is a rosy looking gentleman. He has never inhaled a flowers fragrance. He has never gazed at a star. He has never loved anyone. He has never done anything other than additions. And all day long he repeats like you: ‘I am a serious man! I am a serious man!’ And that makes him swell with pride. But he is not a man; he is a mushroom!”

“A what?”

“A mushroom!” The little prince was now white with rage. “It has been for millions of years that flowers have grown thorns. It has been for millions of years that sheep eat flowers regardless. And is it not important to try to understand why they make such an effort to grow these thorns which never serve any purpose?

Is it not important, this war between sheep and flowers? Is it not serious, and indeed is it not more important than the sums of a big rosy gentleman?

And if I myself know one unique flower in this universe... it exists nowhere except on my planet, and one little sheep can destroy it in one bite — just like that, one morning, without giving any consideration to what it is doing. And that is not important!”

He flushed, then continued: “If someone loves a flower which exists as a solitary emblem in the millions and millions of stars, then for this person to be happy, it is enough just to gaze upwards. One may say to oneself: ‘My flower is up there somewhere...’

But if a sheep eats the flower, it is for this person just like, all of a sudden, all the stars are extinguished! And that is not important!”

He could not say anything more. He burst suddenly into tears. The night had fallen. I had dropped my tools. I ceased to care for my hammer, my bolt, my thirst, and even death. There was, on one star, on one planet, my planet, the earth, a little prince in need of being consoled.

I took him in my arms. I rocked him gently. I said to him: “The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw a shield for your flower. I...”

I did not know at all what to say. I felt very out of place. I did not know how to reach him; where I could connect with him. It is such a mystery, this land of tears!

Chapter VIII

I soon learnt to know this flower better.

There had always been, on the little prince’s planet, very simple flowers: adorned with a single row of petals; which took up almost no space; and which bothered no one. They appeared in the morning amongst the grass, and then wilted away in the evening.

But a particular one had sprouted one day... a seed carried from no one knows where, and the little prince kept a close watch over this sprout — which did not resemble all the other seedlings. It could be a new kind of baobab. However, the little bush suddenly stopped growing and started to prepare a flower.

The little prince, who witnessed the emergence of an enormous bud, well felt that from it must come a miraculous apparition; but the flower had not yet finished her preparations to create beauty, under the cover of her green chamber.

She chose her colours with care; she dressed herself slowly; she adjusted her petals one by one. She did not want to emerge all rumpled like the poppies. She did not want to appear other than in the full radiance of her beauty.

Oh! Yes. She was very flirtatious! Her mysterious preparations had therefore lasted for days and days. And then one morning, just at the hour of sunrise, she displayed herself.

And she, after having worked with the utmost precision, said while yawning: “Ah! I am barely awake... I ask that you excuse me. I am still all dishevelled...”

The little prince could no longer contain his admiration: “You are beautiful!”

“Is it not so,” responded the flower sweetly. “And I was born at the same moment as the sun...”

The little prince quickly concluded that she was not overly modest, but she was so moving!

“It is the hour, I believe, for breakfast,” she promptly added. “Would you be so kind as to think of me...”

And the little prince, utterly confused, went to look for a watering-can full of fresh water. Thus he served the flower.

So it was she began to torment him with her somewhat quirky vanity.

One day, for example, when speaking of her four thorns, she had said to the little prince: “They can come, the tigers, with their claws!”

“There are no tigers on my planet,” the little prince objected, “and in any case, tigers do not eat weeds.”

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

“Pardon me...”

“I have no fear of tigers, but I have a horror of drafts. Would you not have a screen?”

“A horror of drafts... that is bad luck, for a plant,” remarked the little prince. “This flower is really complicated...”

“On dark you should put me under a globe. Your place it is very cold. It is not well designed. Where I come from...”

But she interrupted herself. She had come in the form of a seed. She could not have known of other worlds.

Embarrassed for being left caught out — preparing to make such a naïve lie — she coughed two or three times: to wrong foot the little prince. “The screen?...”

“I was going to look for it but you spoke to me!”

Then she forced her cough so as to inflict even more remorse.

So the little prince, despite the good stemming from his love, had soon come to doubt her. He had taken seriously some words of no importance, and had thus become very unhappy.

“I should not to have listened to her,” he confided to me one day, “one must never listen to flowers. One must gaze at them and inhale them. Mine perfumed all my planet, but I did not know how to be appreciative and thankful. This story about claws, which had so much annoyed me, should have soothed me...”

And he confided in me more: “I have not understood anything! I should have judged her on her actions and not by her words. She showered me with her fragrance and shone on my spirit. I should never have run away!

I should have seen that only tenderness lay behind her lowly ruses. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”

Chapter IX

I believe that he was aided, in his escape, by the migration of some wild birds.

On the morning of his departure he put his planet in good order. He diligently cleaned out his active volcanoes. He possessed two active volcanoes, and they were certainly convenient for heating his breakfast each morning.

He also possessed one extinct volcano. But, as he said, “One never knows!” So he also cleaned out the extinct volcano.

If they are thoroughly cleaned, volcanoes burn slowly and steadily, without having eruptions.

Volcanic eruptions are like fires in a chimney. Obviously on our planet we are much too small to clean out our volcanoes. That is why they cause us such a lot of trouble.

The little prince also pulled up, with a little sadness, the last baobabs seedlings. He thought he would never be coming back. But all these familiar jobs seemed to him, on this morning, to be extremely pleasurable.

And, when he watered the flower one last time, and prepared to place her under the cover of her globe, he discovered that he had the urge to cry.

“Goodbye,” he said to the flower.

But she did not respond to him.

“Goodbye,” he repeated.

The flower coughed. But it was not because of a cold. “I have been stupid,” she said to him finally. “I ask your forgiveness. Try to be happy.”

He was surprised by the absence of reproaches. He remained there all disconcerted, with the globe in the air. He did not comprehend this calm softness.

“Well yes, I love you,” the flower said to him. “It is my fault that you have not known it all the while. That is of no importance. But you have been foolish just like me. Try to be happy... Leave the glass globe alone. I no longer want it.”

“But the wind.”

“I am not so taken by cold as that... The fresh air in the night will do me good. I am a flower.”

“But the animals...”

“It is surely necessary that I support two or three caterpillars if I wish to know of butterflies. It seems that they are incredibly beautiful. If not them, who will pay me a visit? You will be far away. Regarding the larger animals, I have nothing to fear. I have my claws.”

And she naïvely displayed her four thorns. Then she added: “Do not linger like this, it makes things difficult. You have decided to depart. Go away.”

For she did not want that he see her cry. She was such a proud flower...

Chapter X

He found himself in the region of the asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329 and 330.

He began, therefore, by visiting them, to find something to do and to learn.

The first was inhabited by a king. The king sat — dressed in royal purple and white — on a very simple, yet majestic, throne.

“Ah! Here is a subject,” cried the king, when he noticed the little prince.

And the little prince asked himself: “How could he recognize me when he has never before seen me!”

He did not know that, for kings, the world is really simple: all people are but subjects.

“Bring yourself near, so that I may see you better,” the king said to him — he was immensely proud of finally being a king to someone.

The little prince looked for a place to sit, but the planet was completely covered by the magnificent white robe; so he remained standing, and, since he was fatigued, he yawned.

“It is contrary to etiquette to yawn in presence of a king,” the monarch said to him. “I forbid you to do so.”

“I cannot help it,” replied the little prince, all confused.

“I have made such a long journey, and I have not slept...”

“Then,” the king said to him, “I order you to yawn. I have not seen anyone yawn for some years. Yawns are for me something of a curiosity. Go on! Yawn again. It is an order.”

“That makes me intimidated... I can no longer...” said the little prince, blushing.

“Hum! Hum!” responded the king. “Then I... I order you sometimes to yawn, and sometimes to...”

He stammered a little, and seemed vexed; for the king considered it essential that his authority be respected. He did not tolerate any disobedience. He was an absolute monarch. However, because he was very decent, he only gave orders that were reasonable.

“If I ordered...,” he said confidently, “if I ordered a general to change himself into a sea bird, and if the general did not obey, it would not be the fault of the general. It would be my fault.”

“May I seat myself?” the little prince inquired timidly.

“I order you to be seated,” the king answered him, and majestically gathered in a fold of his white robe.

But the little prince wondered to himself: the planet was miniscule; over what could the king really reign?

“Sire,” he said to him, “will you pardon me for questioning you...”

“I order you to question me,” the king hastened to say.

“Sire... over what do you rule?”

“Over all,” responded the king, with a grand simplicity.

“Over everything?”

The king made a discrete gesture embracing his planet, the other planets, and the stars.

“Over all that?” asked the little prince.

“Over all that...” replied the king.

For not only was he an absolute monarch; he was a universal monarch too.

“And the stars obey you?”

“Without doubt,” the king said to him. “They obey promptly. I do not tolerate lack of discipline.”

Such power amazed the little prince. If he had himself such command, he could have attended not forty-four, but seventy-two... or even a hundred... or even two hundred sunsets on the same day, without ever having to shift his chair.

And since he felt a little sad after recalling his abandoned little planet, he ventured to solicit a favour from the king:

“I should like to see a sunset... Do me that kindness... Order the sun to set...”

“If I ordered a general to fly from one flower to another, like a butterfly; or to write a tragedy; or to change himself into a sea bird; and if the general did not execute the order he received, who, him or me, would be in the wrong?”

“It would be you,” said the little prince firmly.

“Exactly. One must demand of each subject that which they can contribute,” continued the king.

“Authority is based first of all on reason. If you ordered your people to go and throw themselves into the sea, there would be a revolution. I have the right to require obedience because my orders are reasonable.”

“Well then, my sunset...” reminded the little prince, who never forgot a question once he had posed it.

“Your sunset... you shall have it. I shall order it. But I shall wait, according to my science of governance, until the conditions become favourable.”

“When will that be?” queried the little prince.

“Hmm! Hmm!” replied the king. He began to consult a great big calendar. “Hmm! Hmm! It will be towards... towards... it will be this evening, around seven forty. And certainly you will see that I am obeyed!”

The little prince yawned. He was disappointed by the lack of a sunset. And as well, he was already getting a little bored: “I have nothing further to do here,” he said to the king. “I am going to depart.”

“Do not leave,” responded the king, who was so very proud of having a subject. “Do not go. I will make you a minister!”

“Minister of what?”

“Of... of Justice!”

“But there are no people to judge!”

“One does not know that,” the king said to him. “I have not yet made a tour of my kingdom. I am very old; I have no space for a coach; and it tires me to walk.”

“Oh! But I have already looked,” said the little prince, as he lent to cast another glance over the other side of the planet. There is nobody over there at all...

“You shall therefore judge yourself,” the king said to him. “That is most difficult. It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others. If you manage to impartially judge yourself, then you are a veritable sage.”

“Me...” said the little prince, “I can judge myself no matter where I am. I have no need to live here.”

“Hmm! Hmm!” said the king. “I rather think that someplace on my planet there is an old rat. I hear him at night. You can judge this old rat. You can condemn him to death from time to time. Thus, his life will depend on your justice. But you must pardon him on each occasion, for economies sake. There is but one of him.”

“Me...” answered the little prince, “I do not wish to condemn anyone to death, and I really think I will be moving on.”

“No,” said the king.

But the little prince, having completed his preparations, did not want to further burden the old monarch: “If Your Majesty wishes to be promptly obeyed, he should give me a reasonable order. He should order me, for example, to depart in under one minute. It seems to me that conditions are favourable...”

With the king not having responded, the little prince hesitated at first; but then, with a sigh, he took his leave...

“I make you my ambassador,” the king then cried out hastily. He had a wonderful air of authority.

“The grown-ups are positively strange,” the little prince said to himself, on his new voyage.

Chapter XI

The second planet was inhabited by a vain man. “Ah! Ah! Look at this. A visit from an admirer!” shouted the vain man from afar, when he first saw the little prince. For, to conceited people, all other people are admirers.

“Good morning,” said the little prince. “You certainly have an odd hat.”

“It is for salutations,” the vain man said to him. “It is for saluting when people praise me. Unfortunately, no one ever passes by here.”

“Ah yes?” said the little prince, who did not comprehend.

“Clap your hands, one against the other,” the vain man now counselled him.

The little prince clapped his hands, one against the other.

The vain man saluted modestly by raising his hat.

“This is more amusing than the visit to the king,” the little prince said to himself. And he recommenced clapping his hands, one against the other.

The vain man resumed saluting by raising his hat.

After five minutes of this exercise the little prince grew weary of the monotonous game. “And for the hat to lower” he demanded, “what must one do?”

But the vain man did not hear him. Conceited people never hear anything other than praise.

“Do you really admire me very much?” he demanded of the little prince.

“What does that mean... admire?”

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

“But you are alone on your planet!”

“Give me this pleasure. Admire me just the same!”

“I admire you,” said the little prince, shrugging his shoulders a little, “but how can it be of much interest to you?” And the little prince went away.

“The grown-ups really are decidedly bizarre,” he said simply, to himself, during his next voyage.

Chapter XII

The next planet was inhabited by a drunkard. This visit was very short, but it plunged the little prince into a deep state of melancholy.

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

I am drinking,” responded the drunkard, with a lugubrious air.

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

“To forget,” replied the drunkard.

“To forget what?” inquired the little prince, who already pitied him.

“To forget that I am ashamed,” confessed the drunkard, while lowering his head.

“Ashamed of what?” inquired the little prince, who wanted to help him.

“Ashamed of drinking!” The drunkard finished abruptly, and shut himself up definitively in silence.

And the little prince went away perplexed. “Grown-ups are decidedly very, very bizarre,” he said to himself, during the next voyage.

Chapter XIII

The fourth planet was that of a businessman. This man was so occupied that he did not even raise his head at the arrival of the little prince.

“Good morning,” the little prince said to him. “Your cigarette is out.”

“Three and two make five. Five and seven... twelve. Twelve and three... fifteen. Good morning. Fifteen and seven... twenty-two. Twenty-two and six... twenty-eight. No time to relight it. Twenty-six and five... thirty-one. Ouf! That then makes five hundred and one million, six hundred and twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and thirty-one.”

“Five hundred million of what?”

“Huh? You are still there? Five hundred and one million... I do not know more... I have so much work! Me, I am serious; I do not amuse myself with nonsense! Two and five... seven...”

“Five hundred and one million of what?” repeated the little prince, who had never renounced a question once he had posed it.

The businessman raised his head: “During the fifty-four years that I have inhabited this planet, I have not been interrupted but three times.

The first time was — some twenty-two years ago — by a bothersome beetle who had fallen God only knows where from. He gave out a most appalling noise, and I made four errors in addition.

The second time was — some eleven years ago — by an attack of rheumatism. I lack exercise. I have not the time for wandering about. I am a serious person.

The third time... this is it! So, as I was saying, five hundred and one millions...”

“Millions of what?”

The businessman realised that there was no hope of peace: “Millions of those little things that one sometimes sees in the sky.”

“Flies?”

“Well no, the little things that shine.”

“Bees?”

“Well no. Little golden things that make lazy people dream. But me, I am serious. I have not the time for dreaming.”

“Ah! Stars?”

“That it is. The stars.”

“And what do you do with five hundred million stars?”

“Five hundred and one million, six hundred and twenty-two thousand, seven hundred and thirty-one. Me, I am serious; I am precise.”

“And what do you do with these stars?”

“What do I do with them?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing. I possess them.”

“You own the stars?”

“Yes.”

“But I have already seen a king who...”

“Kings do not possess; they reign over. It is very different.”

“And of what benefit is it to you, possessing the stars?”

“I am benefited by being rich.”

“And of what benefit is it to you, being rich?”

“So as to purchase other stars, if someone finds them.”

“This man,” the little prince said to himself, “he reasons a little like my drunkard.” Nevertheless, he still posed some more questions: “How can one possess the stars?”

“To whom do they belong?” the businessman retorted grumpily.

“I do not know. To whomever.”

“Then they belong to me, for I thought of it first.”

“Is that sufficient?”

“Certainly. When you find a diamond that belongs to nobody, it is yours. When you discover an island that belongs to nobody, it is yours. When you are the first to have an idea, you patent it: it is yours. And me, I own the stars because no one before me had ever dreamt of possessing them.”

“That is true,” said the little prince.

“And what do you do with them?”

“I manage them: I count them and I recount them,” said the businessman. “It is difficult; but I am a serious man!”

The little prince was still not satisfied. “As for me, if I owned a scarf, I could put it around my neck and take it away. As for me, if I owned a flower, I could pluck my flower and take it away. But you cannot pluck the stars!”

“No, but I can place them in a bank.”

“What is meant by that?”

“It means that I can write the number of my stars on a little paper. And then I put them, under lock and key, in a drawer.”

“And that is all?”

“That is enough,” said the businessman.

“That is amusing,” thought the little prince. “It is rather poetic. But it is not very serious.”

Concerning serious matters, the little prince had ideas that were very different to the ideas of grown-ups.

“Me,” he said in continuing, “I possess a flower which I water every day. I have three volcanoes, which I clean out once a week: for I also clean out the one that is extinct; one never knows.

It is of use to my volcanoes, and it is of use to my flower, that I own them. But you are not useful to the stars...”

The businessman opened his mouth but found nothing to say, and the little prince went away.

“Grown-ups are without a doubt, completely extraordinary,” he said simply, to himself, during his next voyage.

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