Chapter two
So I lived all alone, without anyone I could really talk to, until I had to make a crash landing in the Sahara Desert six years ago. Something in my plane’s engine had broken. Since I had neither a mechanic nor passengers in the plane with me, I was preparing to undertake the difficult repair job by myself. For me it was a matter of life or death: I had only enough drinking water for eight days.
The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand a thousand miles from any inhabited country. I was more isolated than a man shipwrecked on a raft in the middle of the ocean. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awakened at daybreak by a funny little voice saying, “Please…” draw me a sheep…
“What?”
“Draw me a sheep…”
I leaped up as if I had been struck by lightning. I rubbed my eyes hard. I stared. And I saw an extraordinary little fellow staring back at me very seriously. Here is the best portrait 1 managed to make of him, later on.
But of course my drawing is much less attractive than my model. This is not my fault. My career as a painter was discouraged at the age of six by the grown-ups, and I had never learned to draw anything except boa constrictors, outside and inside.
So I stared wide-eyed at this apparition. Don’t forget that I was a thousand miles from any inhabited territory. Yet this little fellow seemed to be neither lost nor dying of exhaustion, hunger, or thirst; nor did he seem scared to death. There was nothing in his appearance that suggested a child lost in the middle of the desert a thousand miles from any inhabited territory.
When I finally managed to speak, I asked him, “But… what are you doing here?”
And then he repeated, very slowly and very seriously, “Please… draw me a sheep…”
When you encounter an overpowering mystery, you don’t dare disobey. Absurd as it seemed, a thousand miles from all inhabited regions and in danger of death, I took a piece of paper and a pen out of my pocket. But then I remembered that I had mostly studied geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little fellow (rather crossly) that I didn’t know how to draw.
He replied, “That doesn’t matter. Draw me a sheep.”
Since I had never drawn a sheep, I made him one of the only two drawings I knew how to make – the one of the boa constrictor from outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow answer:
“No! No! I don’t want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is very dangerous, and an elephant would get in the way. Where I live, everything is very small. I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep.”
So then I made a drawing.
He looked at it carefully, and then said, “No. This one is already quite sick. Make another.”
I made another drawing. My friend gave me a kind, indulgent smile:
“You can see for yourself… that’s not a sheep, it’s a ram. It has horns…”
So I made my third drawing, but it was rejected, like the others:
“This one’s too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time.”
So then, impatiently, since I was in a hurry to start work on my engine, I scribbled this drawing, and added, “This is just the crate. The sheep you want is inside.”
But I was amazed to see my young critic’s face light up.
“That’s just the kind I wanted! Do you think this sheep will need a lot of grass?”
“Why?”
“Because where I live, everything is very small…”
“There’s sure to be enough. I’ve given you a very small sheep.”
He bent over the drawing. “Not so small as all that…” Look! He’s gone to sleep…”
And that’s how I made the acquaintance of the little prince.