The second planet was inhabited by a conceited man.

'Ah! Ah! Here comes an admirer to visit me,' cried out the conceited man, from afar, as soon as he caught sight of the little prince. For, to the conceited man, all other men are admirers.

'Good day,' said the little prince. 'That's a funny hat you're wearing.'

'It's for waving with,' replied the conceited man, 'For waving with when people cheer me. Unfortunately, nobody ever passes this way.'

'Oh really?' said the little prince, who did not really understand.

'Clap your hands, one against the other.' the conceited man now instructed him.

The little prince clapped his hands, one against the other. And the conceited man raised his hat and waved modestly.

'This is more amusing than my visit to the king.' the little prince said to himself. And he started clapping his hands again, one against the other. And the conceited man raised his hat and waved.

After five minutes of this exercise the little prince grew tired of the monotony of the game.

'And for you to lower your hat,' he asked, 'what do I have to do?'

But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited men only ever hear praise.

'Do you really admire me a great deal?' he asked the little prince.

'What does "admire" mean?'

'To admire means to admit that I am the handsomest, the best-dressed, the richest, the most intelligent person on this planet.'

'But you are all alone on your planet!'

'Do me this kindness: admire me all the same!'

'I admire you,' said the prince, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, 'but how can that be of any interest to you?'

And the little prince went away.

'Grown-ups are decidedly very odd,' he merely observed to himself, as he continued on his voyage.