“People set out on their way in express trains, but they don’t know what they are looking for,” said the little prince. “So they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round.”

He went on:

“It’s not worth the trouble.”

The well that we found out was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are usually nothing more than holes dug in the sand. But this one was like a well in a village. The strange thing was that there was no village here. I thought I must be dreaming.

“It is strange,” I said to the little prince.

“It seems that everything is ready for use. Look at the pulley, thebucket, and the rope.”

He laughed. Then he touched the rope, and set the pulley to working.

“Do you hear the sound?” asked the little prince. “The well is singing. We have just wakened it.”

I did not want him to get exhausted with the rope.

“Hand it over to me,” I said. “It is too heavy for you.”

I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there. Although tired, I was happy over my achievement. I could see the sunlightshimmer in the still trembling water, and the song of the pulley was still in my ears.

“Give me some water to drink,” said the little prince. “I am thirsty for it.”

I understood what he had been looking for.

I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival feast . This water was really different from ordinary nourishment. It’s sweetness was the product of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, and the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a gift when I was a little boy, I used to be pleased at the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, thetenderness of smiling faces, and the radiance of the presents I received.

“The people where you live raise five thousand roses in the same garden, and it seems to me that they do not find in it what they are looking for,” said the little prince.

“They do not find it,” I replied.

“And yet what they are looking for could be found in a little water, or in one single rose.”

“Yes, that is true,” I said.

“But the eyes don’t work. One must look with the heart,” the little prince added.

I drank the water. I could breathe easily. At sunrise, the sand is the color of honey and that honey color made me happy, too. Then, what was this sense of grief ?

“You should keep your promise,” said the little prince, softly, sitting down beside me once more,

“What promise?”

“You said you would draw me a muzzle for my sheep,” he said. “I am responsible for this flower.”

I took my rough drafts of drawings out of my pocket. The little prince looked them over and laughed.  

“Your baobabs look a little like cabbage,” he said.

“Oh!”

I had been so proud of my baobabs!

“The ears of your fox look a little like horns, and they are too long.”

He laughed again.

“I’m Sorry, little prince,” I said. “I never know how to draw anything except boa constrictors from the outside and boa constrictors from the inside.”

“Oh, no problem,” he said. “Children understand.”

So I made a pencil sketch of a muzzle. As I gave it to him, my heart wastorn.

“You have plans that I do not know about,” I said.

He did not reply to me. He said to me, instead:

“You know—my arrival on the Earth. Tomorrow will be its firstanniversary.”

After a silence, he went on:

“I came down very near here” he said as he flushed.

Once again, without understanding why, I had a strange sense of sorrow. One question, however, came to mind:

“Then it was not by accident that on the morning when I first met you-a week ago—you were strolling about like that, all alone, a thousand miles from any inhabited region? You were on your way back to the place where you landed?”

The little prince flushed again,

I added, with some hesitation;

“May be it was because of the anniversary?”

The little prince flushed once more. He never responded to my questions-but when one flushes does that not mean “Yes”?

“Ah, I am a little frightened.” I said to him.

But he interrupted me.

“Now you should work. You should return to your plane. I will be waiting for you here. Come back tomorrow evening.”

But I was not reassured. I thought about the fox. One runs the risk of crying a little, if one lets himself be tamed...