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thenarratorcrashesinthedesertandmakestheacquaintanceofthelittleprince
SoIlivedmylifealone,withoutanyonethatIcouldreallytalkto,untilIhadanaccidentwithmyplaneintheDesertofSahara,sixyearsago.Somethingwasbrokeninmyengine.AndasIhadwithmeneitheramechanicnoranypassengers,Isetmyselftoattemptthedifficultrepairsallalone.Itwasaquestionoflifeordeathforme:Ihadscarcelyenoughdrinkingwatertolastaweek.
Thefirstnight,then,Iwenttosleeponthesand,athousandmilesfromanyhumanhabitation.Iwasmoreisolatedthanashipwreckedsailoronaraftinthemiddleoftheocean.Thusyoucanimaginemyamazement,atsunrise,whenIwasawakenedbyanoddlittlevoice.Itsaid:
"Ifyouplease--drawmeasheep!"
"What!"
"Drawmeasheep!"
Ijumpedtomyfeet,completelythunderstruck.Iblinkedmyeyeshard.Ilookedcarefullyallaroundme.AndIsawamostextraordinarysmallperson,whostoodthereexaminingmewithgreatseriousness.Hereyoumayseethebestpotraitthat,later,Iwasabletomakeofhim.Butmydrawingiscertainlyverymuchlesscharmingthanitsmodel.
That,however,isnotmyfault.Thegrown-upsdiscouragedmeinmypainter'scareerwhenIwassixyearsold,andIneverlearnedtodrawanything,exceptboasfromtheoutsideandboasfromtheinside.
NowIstaredatthissuddenapparitionwithmyeyesfairlystartingoutofmyheadinastonishment.Remember,Ihadcrashedinthedesertathousandmilesfromanyinhabitedregion.Andyetmylittlemanseemedneithertobestrayinguncertainlyamongthesands,nortobefaintingfromfatigueorhungerorthirstorfear.Nothingabouthimgaveanysuggestionofachildlostinthemiddleofthedesert,athousandmilesfromanyhumanhabitation.WhenatlastIwasabletospeak,Isaidtohim:
"But--whatareyoudoinghere?"
Andinanswerherepeated,veryslowly,asifhewerespeakingofamatterofgreatconsequence:"Ifyouplease--drawmeasheep..."
Whenamysteryistoooverpowering,onedarenotdisobey.Absurdasitmightseemtome,athousandmilesfromanyhumanhabitationandindangerofdeath,Itookoutofmypocketasheetofpaperandmyfountain-pen.ButthenIrememberedhowmystudieshadbeenconcentratedongeography,history,arithmetic,andgrammar,andItoldthelittlechap(alittlecrossly,too)thatIdidnotknowhowtodraw.Heansweredme:
"Thatdoesn'tmatter.Drawmeasheep..."
ButIhadneverdrawnasheep.SoIdrewforhimoneofthetwopicturesIhaddrawnsooften.Itwasthatoftheboaconstrictorfromtheoutside.AndIwasastoundedtohearthelittlefellowgreetitwith,
"No,no,no!Idonotwantanelephantinsideaboaconstrictor.Aboaconstrictorisaverydangerouscreature,andanelephantisverycumbersome.WhereIlive,everythingisverysmall.WhatIneedisasheep.Drawmeasheep."
SothenImadeadrawing.
Helookedatitcarefully,thenhesaid:
"No.Thissheepisalreadyverysickly.Makemeanother."
SoImadeanotherdrawing.
Myfriendsmiledgentlyandindulgenty.
"Youseeyourself,"hesaid,"thatthisisnotasheep.Thisisaram.Ithashorns."
SothenIdidmydrawingoveroncemore.
Butitwasrejectedtoo,justliketheothers.
"Thisoneistooold.Iwantasheepthatwilllivealongtime."
Bythistimemypatiencewasexhausted,becauseIwasinahurrytostarttakingmyengineapart.SoItossedoffthisdrawing.
AndIthrewoutanexplanationwithit.
"Thisisonlyhisbox.Thesheepyouaskedforisinside."
Iwasverysurprisedtoseealightbreakoverthefaceofmyyoungjudge:
"ThatisexactlythewayIwantedit!Doyouthinkthatthissheepwillhavetohaveagreatdealofgrass?"
"Why?"
"BecausewhereIliveeverythingisverysmall..."
"Therewillsurelybeenoughgrassforhim,"Isaid."ItisaverysmallsheepthatIhavegivenyou."
Hebenthisheadoverthedrawing:
"Notsosmallthat--Look!Hehasgonetosleep..."
AndthatishowImadetheacquaintanceofthelittleprince.
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