Next to the well were the remains of an old stone wall. When I returned from my labours, the next evening, I could see from a distance my little prince sitting on top of it, his legs dangling. Then I heard his voice, saying:

'So you cannot remember? But this is not the exact spot!'

Another voice must have replied, for he answered back:

'Yes, of course! It is the right day, but this is not the place.'

I kept walking towards the wall. Still I could not see or hear anyone. However, the little prince answered again:

'But of course. You will see where my tracks begin in the sand. You have only to wait for me there. I'll be there tonight.'

I was now sixty yards from the wall, but still I could see nothing.

After a silence, the little prince spoke again:

'And your poison is good? You are sure not to make me suffer for long?'

I came to a halt. There was a lump in my throat, but still I did not understand.

'Now go away.' he said. ‘I want to get down.' 

At which I lowered my eyes to the base of the wall, and leaped into the air. There, rearing up before the little prince, was one of those yellow snakes that can dispatch you from this life in thirty seconds. Rummaging through my pockets for my revolver I started running. But at the noise I made the snake slid smoothly across the sand, like the last spurt of a dying fountain, and slipped unhurriedly between the stones with a light metallic sound.

I reached the wall just in time to catch the little prince in my arms; his face was as white as snow.

'What nonsense is this! So now you talk to snakes?'

I had loosened the yellow scarf he always wore round his neck. I moistened his temples and made him drink some water. And now I did not dare to question him further. He looked at me solemnly and put his arms round my neck. I could feel his heart beating, like a dying bird brought down by rifle shot. He said:

'I am happy you found what you needed for your machine. Now you'll be able to return home.'

'How did you know that!’

I had just been coming to tell him the news that, against all odds, my efforts had succeeded.

He made no answer to my question, but he added:

I, too, am returning home, today.'

Then, in a sad voice:

'It is a lot further away . . . a lot more difficult. . .'

I sensed clearly that something extraordinary was happening. I was holding him in my arms like a child, and yet he seemed to be sliding into an abyss, and I could do nothing to keep him back.

His gaze was solemn, lost in the far distance.

I have your sheep. I have the box for the sheep. And I have the muzzle ...'

He gave a melancholy smile.

I waited, for a long time. I felt him reviving little by little.

'Little fellow, you have been afraid.'

Of course he had been afraid! But he laughed softly:

'I shall be far more afraid this evening ...'

Once again I felt myself chilled by a sense of the irreparable. And I realized I could not endure the thought of never hearing that laughter again. It was for me like a fountain in the desert.

'Little fellow, I want to hear your laughter again.'

But he said:

'Tonight, it will be a year ... My star will be directly above the spot where I fell to Earth a year ago.'

'Little fellow, surely this story about a snake and a meeting place and a star is all a bad dream.'

But he did not answer. He said:

'What is important cannot be seen.'

'Yes, I know.'

'It's the same as with the flower. If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look up at the night sky. All the stars are in bloom.'

'Yes, I know.'

'It's the same as with the water. What you gave me to drink was a kind of music, because of the pulley and the rope ... Do you remember ... how good it was?'

'Yes, I know.'

'At night, you will look up at the stars. Mine is too small to point out to you. It is better that way. For you, my star will be just one of many stars. That way, you will love watching all of them ... They will all be your friends. What is more, I am going to give you a present.'

He laughed once more.

'Ah! little prince! How I love to hear your laugh!'

'And that is my present -just that . . . As it was when we drank the water ...'

'What are you trying to say?'

'The stars men follow have different meanings. For some people —— travellers —— the stars are guides. For others they are merely little lights in the sky. For others still —— the scientists —— they are problems to be solved. For my businessman they meant gold. But for all these people, the stars are silent. For you, the stars will be as they are for no one else.'

'What are you-trying to say?'

'At night, when you look up at the sky, since I shall be living on a star, and since I shall be laughing on a star, for you it will be as if all the stars are laughing. You alone will have stars that can laugh!'

And he laughed again.

'And when you have got over your loss (for we always do), you'll be-happy to have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And sometimes you will open your window - just like that, for the sake of opening it and your friends will be amazed to see you laughing as you look up at the sky. Then you'll say to them: "Yes, it's the stars; they always make me laugh!'' And they' ll think you are crazy. I will have played a mean trick on you.'

And he laughed again.

'As if, instead of stars, I'd given you a string of little laughing bells ...'

And he laughed again. Then he became serious once more:

'Tonight - you know ... Do not come.'

'I won't leave you.'

‘I shall seem to be very sick. I shall even seem to be dying. That is how it must be. Don't come to watch that, it is not worth the trouble.'

'I won't leave you.'

But he was anxious.

'If I tell you this, it is also because of the snake. He must not bite you. Snakes are spiteful. They can bite just for the fun of it.'

'I won't leave you,'

But something seemed to reassure him:

'I suppose it's true that they have no poison left for a second bite.'

That night I did not notice him setting off. He slipped away without a sound. When I managed to catch up with him he was walking resolutely along, with a rapid step. He merely said:

'Ah! there you are ...'

And he took my hand. But he soon began fretting again:

'You were wrong to come. It will upset you. I shall seem to be dead and it will not be true...'

I said nothing.

' You understand . . . It is too far. I cannot take this body along with me. It is too heavy.'

I said nothing.

'Left behind, it will only be an old cast-off shell. There is nothing sad about an old shell.'

I said nothing.

He began to lose heart. But he made one further effort:

'It will be rather nice, you know. I too shall look up at the stars. All the stars will be wells with rusty pulleys. All the stars will pour water out for me to drink.'

I said nothing.

'It will be amusing, do you see? You will have five hundred million little bells, and I shall have five hundred million fountains of water ...'

And now he fell silent too, for he was crying.

'Here is the spot. Let me take the next step alone.'

 

And he sat down, because he was afraid.

Then he added:

' You know —— my flower . . . I am responsible for her! And she is so weak! She is so naive! She has four tiny little thorns to protect her against the world.'

Now I sat down too, because I could no longer stand. He said:

Well. That is all?

Still he hesitated a little; then he got to his feet. He took one step forward. I was motionless.

There was nothing, except a flash of yellow near his ankle. He stood stock still for an instant. He did not cry out. He fell as gently as a tree falls. There was not even any sound, because of the sand.