Chapter 24

It was now the eighth day since I had had my accident in the desert, and I had listened to the story of the merchant as I was drinking the last drop of my water supply.

"Ah," I said to the little prince, "these memories of yours are very charming; but I have not yet succeeded in repairing my plane; I have nothing more to drink; and I, too, should be very happy if I could walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water!"

"My friend the fox--" the little prince said to me.

"My dear little man, this is no longer a matter that has anything to do with the fox!"

"Why not?"

"Because I am about to die of thirst..."

He did not follow my reasoning, and he answered me:

"It is a good thing to have had a friend, even if one is about to die. I, for instance, am very glad to have had a fox as a friend…"

"He has no way of guessing the danger," I said to myself. "He has never been either hungry or thirsty. A little sunshine is all he needs…"

But he looked at me

steadily posément, calmement
con calma

, and replied to my thought: "I am thirsty, too. Let us look for a

well puits
pozo

…"

I made a gesture of

weariness lassitude
cansancio

. It is absurd to look for a well,

at random au hasard
al azar

, in the immensity of the desert. But nevertheless we started walking.

When we had

trudged along marché péniblement
caminado arduamente

for several hours, in silence, the darkness fell, and the stars began to come out. Thirst had made me a little feverish, and I looked at them as if I were in a dream. The little prince's last words came

reeling chanceler, tituber
tambaleando, dando vueltas

back into my memory:

"Then you are thirsty, too?" I demanded.

But he did not reply to my question. He merely said to me:

"Water may also be good for the heart…"

I did not understand this answer, but I said nothing. I knew very well that it was impossible to

cross- examine him l'interroger
interrogarlo

.

He was tired. He sat down. I sat down beside him. And, after a little silence, he spoke again: "The stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen."

I replied, "Yes, that is so." And, without saying anything more, I looked across the

ridges plis
pliegues

of sand that were

stretched out étendus
tendidos

before us in the moonlight.

"The desert is beautiful," the little prince added.

And that was true. I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something

throbs palpite
palpita

, and

gleams brille
brilla

...

"What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well…"

I was astonished by a sudden understanding of that mysterious radiation of the sands. When I was a little boy I lived in an old house, and legend told us that a treasure was

buried enfoui
escondido, oculto

there. To be sure, no one had ever known how to find it; perhaps no one had ever even looked for it. But it cast an enchantment over that house. My home was hiding a secret in the depths of its heart…

"Yes," I said to the little prince. "The house, the stars, the desert--what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!"

"I am glad," he said, "that you agree with my fox."

As the little prince dropped off to sleep comme le petit prince s'endormait
como el principito se dormía

, I took him in my arms and set out walking once more. I felt deeply moved, and

stirred ému
conmovido

. It seemed to me that I was carrying a very fragile treasure. It seemed to me, even, that there was nothing more fragile on all Earth. In the moonlight I looked at his pale forehead, his closed eyes, his

locks mèches
mechas

of hair that trembled in the wind, and I said to myself: "What I see here is nothing but a

shell écorce
corteza

. What is most important is invisible…"

As his lips opened slightly with the suspicion of a half-smile, I said to myself, again: "What moves me so deeply, about this little prince who is sleeping here, is his loyalty to a flower--the image of a rose that shines through his whole being like the flame of a lamp, even when he is asleep…" And I felt him to be more fragile still. I felt the need of protecting him, as if he himself were a flame that might be extinguished by a little

puff of wind coup de vent
racha de viento

…

And, as I walked on so, I found the well,

at daybreak au lever du jour
al amanecer

.

chapter 23           en anglais           chapter 25