The first night I fell asleep on the sand utterly exhausted, a thousand miles away from any inhabited area. Indeed, I was more isolated than a castaway abandoned on a raft in the middle of the ocean. So you can imagine my surprise when at sunrise I was awakened by a sweet little voice that said: “Please, can you draw me a sheep?”
“What?”
“Draw me a sheep…”
I jumped to my feet, astounded. I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Before me I saw a tiny but absolutely extraordinary figure looking at me very seriously. Here is the best portrait that I managed to make of him later on. I must admit, however, that my drawing is much less fascinating than the original, but that’s not my fault. Grown-ups had discouraged me from pursuing a career in painting when I was only six and from that point onward I had not learned how to draw anything except boa constrictors from the outside and inside.
“For the sun to set…”
At first you looked very surprised, but then you laughed at yourself and said to me, “I’m always thinking I’m at home.”
Yes, indeed. The whole world knows that when it’s noon in the United States, the sun is setting over France. If you could go to France in a minute you would be able to watch the setting sun. Unfortunately France is too far away. But on your tiny planet it is enough to move your chair a few steps. And from there you can look at the sunset as many times as you wish…
“One day I saw the sun set forty-three times!” And a little later you added, “You know… when one is really sad, one loves sunsets…”
“Were you that sad on the day of the forty-three sunsets?”
But the little prince did not reply.
On the fifth day, thanks once again to the sheep, this secret of the little prince’s life was disclosed to me. He suddenly asked me, out of the blue, as if the question stemmed from a problem he had been mulling over for a long time in silence:
“Does a sheep that eat shrubs also eat flowers?”
“A sheep eats everything it finds.”
“Even flowers with thorns?”
“Yes. Even flowers with thorns.”
“But then, what is the purpose of thorns?”
I did not know. At that moment I was very busy trying to unscrew a tight bolt in my engine. I was worried because the mechanical failure was beginning to look very serious and the dwindling supply of drinking water was making me fear the worst.
“What is the purpose of thorns?”
The little prince never gave up on a question once he had asked it. I was annoyed at the bolt and said the first thing that came to mind:
“Thorns serve no purpose at all; they exist only because the flowers are being mean.”
“Oh!”
But after a moment of silence he confronted me with a sort of rancor:
“I don’t believe you! Flowers are weak. They’re naive. They reassure themselves in whatever way they can. They believe that the thorns make them fearsome…”
I did not reply. At that moment, I said to myself: “If this bolt won’t come loose, I will knock it out with a hammer.”
The fourth planet was inhabited by a businessman. This man was so busy that he did not even look up when the little prince arrived. “Good day,” the latter said to him. “Your cigarette has gone out.”
“Three plus two is five. Five plus seven, twelve. Twelve plus three, fifteen. Good day. Fifteen plus seven is twenty-two. Twenty-two plus six, twenty-eight. I don’t have time to relight it. Twenty-six plus five, thirty-one. Whew! So that adds up to five-hundred-and-one-million, six-hundred twenty-two-thousand, seven-hundred-and-thirty-one.”
“Five-hundred-and-one-million what?”
“Eh! You’re still there? Five-hundred-and-one-million… I no longer know. I have so much to do! I am a serious man, I am; I don’t amuse myself with nonsense! Two plus five, seven…”
“Five-hundred-and-one-million what?” repeated the little prince, who never gave up on a question once he had asked it.
The businessman raised his head: “In the fifty-four years that I have lived on this planet, only three times have I been disturbed. The first time was twenty-two years ago, by a May-bug that fell from God knows where. It made a frightful racket and I made four mistakes doing a sum. The second time was eleven years ago, when I suffered an attack of rheumatism. I never move, I have no time to saunter about. I am a serious man, I am. The third time… is now! As I was saying, five-hundred-and-one-million.”
“Millions of what?” The businessman realized that there was no hope for peace.
“Those little things that one sometimes sees in the sky.”
“Flies?”
“No, no. Those little things that glitter.”
“Bees?”
“No, no. Those little golden things that make lazy men daydream. But I’m a serious man, I am! I do not have time to daydream.”
“Ah! You mean stars?”
“That’s it. Stars.”
“And what do you do with five-hundred-million stars?”
“Five-hundred-and-one-million, six-hundred-twenty-two-thousand, seven-hundred-thirty-one. I am a serious man, I am; I am precise.”
“And what do you do with these stars?”
“What do I do with them?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing. I own them.”
“You own the stars?”
“Yes.”
“But I have already seen a king who…”
“Kings do not own. They rule. That’s much different.”
“And what good does it do you to own the stars?”
“It makes me rich.”
“And what good does it do you to be rich?”
“It allows me to buy other stars, if some can be discovered.”
“This man,” said the little prince to himself, “reasons a bit like my drunkard.” Yet he asked another question:
“How can stars be owned?”
“Whose are they?” replied the businessman, grinding his teeth.
“I don’t know, no one’s.”
“So then they are mine since I was the first to think of it.”
“And that’s enough?”
“Sure. When you find a diamond that doesn’t belong to anybody, it’s yours. When you find an island that doesn’t belong to anybody, it’s yours. When you’re the first to come up with an idea, you take out a patent, and it’s yours. And I own the stars because nobody before me dreamed of owning them.”
“Why?”
“Because an explorer who lies would be a catastrophe for geography books. Likewise an explorer who drinks too much.”
“Why?”
“Because drunkards see double and the geographer would end up noting down two mountains where there was only one.”
“I know some one,” said the little prince, “who would make a bad explorer.”
“That’s possible. So then, when the moral character of the explorer proves to be good, an inquiry regarding his discovery is held.”
“You go to see it?”
“No, that’s too complicated. But the explorer is required to provide proof. For example, in the case of a large mountain, he is required to submit some large stones.” The geographer suddenly grew excited.
“But you, you come from far away! You’re an explorer! You must describe your planet to me!” And opening his register, the geographer sharpened his pencil. A geographer first takes down an explorer’s accounts in pencil and waits until he has furnished proof before writing them down in ink.
“And so?” the geographer inquired. “Oh!” said the little prince, “The place I live in is not that interesting.
It’s so small. I have three volcanoes, two active and one extinct. But one never knows.”
“One never knows,” said the geographer.
“I also have a flower.”
“We do not record flowers,” said the geographer.
“Why? They are the most beautiful thing of all.”
“Because they’re ephemeral.”
“What does ‘ephemeral’ mean?”
“Geography books,” said the geographer, “are the most precious of all books. They never go out of fashion. It’s very rare for a mountain to change its position. It’s very rare for an ocean to dry up. We describe eternal things.”
“But extinct volcanoes can revive,” interrupted the little prince. “What does ‘ephemeral’ mean?”
“Whether volcanoes are extinct or active makes no difference to us,” said the geographer. “What counts for us is the mountain; it does not change.”
“But what does ‘ephemeral’ mean?” repeated the little prince, who never in his life gave up on a question once he had asked it.
“It means that it is in danger of disappearing in a short time.”
“My flower will soon disappear?”
“Certainly.”
“My flower is ephemeral,” said the little prince to himself, “and she has only four thorns to defend herself against the world! And I left her by herself!”
And for the first time he felt stung by regret. But he took courage: “What would you advise me to go visit?”
“The planet Earth,” replied the geographer. “It’s got a good reputation…”
And the little prince left, thinking about his flower.
So then, the seventh planet was Earth. The Earth is not just any planet! Counted among its own are 111 kings, 7000 geographers, 900,000 businessmen, 7.5 million drunkards, 311 million vain men, that is, approximately two billion grown-ups. To give you an idea of the Earth’s size, I want to point out that prior to the invention of electricity, a veritable army of 462,511 lamplighters had to be to maintained everywhere on all six continents to light street lamps. Seen from a modest distance, this produced a splendid effect. The movements of this army were organized like those of an opera ballet. First it was the turn of the ones who lit the lamps in New Zealand and Australia. Once they had done this, they went to sleep. Then those of China and Siberia made their entrance on the stage. Then these too ran off into the wings. Then came the turn of the lamplighters from Russia and India. Then those of Africa and Europe. Then those of South America and, finally, those of North America. And no mistake ever occurred in the order of their appearance on stage. It was magnificent.
Sometimes it happens that, wishing to be witty, one lies a little. I was not altogether honest when speaking to you about the men that light the streetlamps. I risk giving a false idea of our planet to those who do not know it. Men occupy very little space on Earth. If the two billion inhabitants who populate the Earth were on their feet and packed together rather tightly, as occurs at a rally, they could easily fit into a square that is about 12.4 miles wide and 12.4 miles long. All humankind could be heaped up on some small Pacific island. Naturally, grown-ups would not believe that. They imagine they take up a great deal of space. They regard themselves as important as baobabs. Therefore, advise them to work it out; they adore figures and will be pleased with this. But don’t you waste your time on this task. It’s useless; I know you trust me. When he arrived on Earth, the little prince was quite surprised not to see anyone. He was already afraid that he had come to the wrong planet, when a coil the color of moonlight moved in the sand.
“Good evening,” said the little prince politely.
“Good evening” said the snake.
“Certainly…” “It’s like the flower. If you really love a flower that is on a star, then watching the sky at night is lovely. All the stars are in bloom.” “Certainly…”
“It’s just like it was with the water. What you gave me to drink was like music; there was the pulley, and there was the rope. You remember… It was good.”
“Certainly…”
“You’ll look at the stars at night. The one I live on is so tiny that I can’t show you where it is. It’s better that way. For you my star will be simply one of the stars. That way you’ll love watching all the stars. All of them will be your friends. And now, I want to present you with a gift…”
He laughed again.
“Ah! little prince, my dear little fellow, how I love to hear that laughter!”
“That’s precisely my gift… it will be just like it was with the water…”
“What do you mean?”
“Men have different kinds of stars. For some, those who travel, the stars serve as guides. For others, they are nothing but tiny lights. For yet others, who are learned, they are problems. For my businessman, they were gold. But all these stars are silent. You – you will have stars such as no one else possesses…”
“What do you mean?”
“Since I will dwell on one of them, since I will be laughing on one of them, when you look at the sky at night, for you it will be as though all the stars were laughing. You, you alone will have stars that know how to laugh!”
And he laughed again.
“And once you have consoled yourself (one always finds consolation), you’ll be glad to have known me.
You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And sometimes you will open the window, just for that pleasure… And your friends will be amazed to see you laughing while looking at the sky.
Then you will say, ‘Yes, the stars always make me laugh!’ and they’ll think you’ve gone crazy. I will have played a dirty trick on you…”
And he laughed again.
“It will be as though, instead of stars, I had given you a bunch of little bells that know how to laugh…”
And he laughed once more. Then he became serious again.
“Tonight… you know, don’t come.”
“I will not leave you.”
“It will look as if I am not feeling well… look a bit as if I were dying. That’s the way it is. Don’t come, you don’t want to see that, it’s not worth it…”
“I will not leave you.”
MANUELA ADREANI was born in Rome and now lives in Turin. Having gained her diploma specializing in Illustration, she worked as a graphic designer before moving to the world of animation. After winning a scholarship for a degree in animation at IED Turin, she worked in the studio Lastrego e Testa on the TV series produced and transmitted by RAI, “Aladdin’s Adventures,” “Amita of the Jungle” and the short “The Creation,” from the book of the same name by Carlo Fruttero. In 2011 she started her career as a freelance illustrator, working with Benchmark and Scholastic India. She was one of the winners of the illustration competition commemorating the 130th anniversary of the birth of Pinocchio. For White Star Kids she has produced the books “Pinocchio,” “Alice in Wonderland”, “The Wizard of Oz,” “Snow White,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “The Snow Queen.”
Text adaptation VALERIA MANFERTO DE FABIANIS
Graphic design MARINELLA DEBERNARDI
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© 2015 De Agostini Libri S.p.A. Via G. da Verrazano, 15 - 28100 Novara, Italy www.whitestar.it - www.deagostini.it
Translation: Irina Oryshkevich
Editing: Richard Pierce
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ISBN 978-88-544-0984-2 1 2 3 4 5 6 19 18 17 16 15
Printed in China