The little prince decided to travel with a flock of wild birds. On the morning of his departure he put his planet in perfect order. He carefully cleaned out his active volcanoes. He had two active volcanoes; and they were very convenient to heat his breakfast in the morning. He also had one volcano that was extinct. But, as he said, “One never knows!” So he cleaned out the extinct volcano, too. If they are well cleaned out, volcanoes burn slowly and steadily, without any eruptions. Volcanic eruptions are like fires in a chimney.
On our earth we are too small to clean out our volcanoes. That is why they bring us so much trouble.
The little prince also pulled up the last little shoots of the baobabs. He did not want to return. And he watered the flower for the last time, and prepared to place her under the shelter of her glass globe.
“Goodbye,” he said to the flower.
But she made no answer.
“Goodbye,” he said again.
The flower coughed. But it was not because she had a cold.
“I was silly,” she said to him, at last. “Forgive me. Try to be happy.”
He was surprised. He stood there bewildered. He did not understand.
“Of course I love you,” the flower said to him. “It is my fault that you don’t know it. But this is not important. But you—you are as foolish as I. Try to be happy. Take the glass globe. I don’t want it any more.”
“But the wind—”
“My cold is not so bad. The cool night air will do me good. I am a flower.”
“But the animals—”
“Well, I must meet two or three caterpillars if I wish to see the butterflies. It seems that they are very beautiful. And if not the butterflies—and the caterpillars—who will come to me? You will be far away. As for the large animals—I am not at all afraid of any of them. I have my claws.”
And she showed her four thorns. Then she added:
“Don’t hesitate. You decided to go away. Now go!”
She was a proud flower.
He found himself in the neighborhood of the asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, and 330. He began, therefore, to visit them.
The first of them was inhabited by a king. The king was in royal purple and ermine, and was sitting upon a throne which was at the same time both simple and majestic.
“Ah! Here is a subject,” exclaimed the king, when he saw the little prince.
And the little prince asked himself:
“How does he recognize me?”
He did not know how the world is simple for kings. To them, all men are subjects.
“Approach, so that I may see you better,” said the king. He was very proud to be a king over somebody.
The little prince looked everywhere to find a place to sit down; but the entire planet was obstructed by the king’s magnificent robe. So he was standing upright, and, since he was tired, he yawned.
“It is contrary to etiquette to yawn in the presence of a king,” the monarch said to him. “I forbid you to do so.”
“Sorry, I can’t stop myself,” replied the little prince, embarrassed. “I came on a long journey, and I had no sleep.”
“Ah, then,” the king said. “I order you to yawn. Come, now! Yawn again! It is an order.”
“That frightens me. I cannot yawn any more,” murmured the little prince.
“Hum! Hum!” replied the king. “Then I—I order you sometimes to yawn and sometimes to—”
He seemed vexed. The king hated disobedience. He was an absolute monarch. But, because he was a very good man, he made his orders reasonable.
“If I ordered a general,” he said, “if I order a general to change himself into a bird, and if the general does not obey me, that is not the fault of the general. It is my fault.”
“May I sit down?” came a timid inquiry from the little prince.
“I order you to do so,” the king answered him.
But the little prince was wondering. The planet was tiny. Over what did this king really rule?
“Your majesty,” he said to him, “may I ask you a question—”
“I order you to ask me a question,” the king assured him.
“Your majesty, over what do you rule?”
“Over everything,” said the king, with magnificent simplicity.
“Over everything?”
The king made a gesture, which pointed at his planet, the other planets, and all the stars.
“Over all that?” asked the little prince.
“Over all that,” the king answered.
For his rule was not only absolute: it was also universal.
“And the stars obey you?”
“Certainly they do,” the king said. “They obey instantly. I do not permit insubordination.”
Such power was marveling. “If I am so powerful,” the little prince thought, “I will be able to watch the sunset, not forty-four times in one day, but seventy-two, or even a hundred, or even two hundred times.” And because he remembered his little planet, he asked the king a favor:
“I want to see a sunset. Do me that kindness. Order the sun to set.”
“If I order a general to fly from one flower to another like a butterfly, or to write a tragic drama, or to change himself into a bird, and if the general does not carry out the order, which one of us is wrong?” the king demanded. “The general, or myself?”
“You,” said the little prince firmly.
“Exactly. One must require from each one the duty which each one can perform,” the king said. “If you order your people to go and throw themselves into the sea, they will make a revolution. My orders are reasonable.”
“And what about my sunset?” the little prince reminded him.
“You will have your sunset. I shall command it. But I shall wait until conditions are favorable.”
“When will that be?” inquired the little prince.
“Hum! Hum!” replied the king; and he consulted a bulky almanac. “Hum! Hum! That will be about—about—that will be this evening about twenty minutes to eight!”
The little prince yawned. He was already a little bored.
“I have nothing more to do here,” he said to the king. “So I shall go away.”
“Do not go,” said the king, because wanted to have a subject. “Do not go. I will make you a Minister!”
“Minister of what?”
“Minister of—of Justice!”
“But there is nobody here to judge!”
“We do not know that,” the king said to him. “I did not make a complete tour of my kingdom. I am very old. And it is difficult for me to walk.”
“Oh, but I looked already!” said the little prince, He turned around to look at the other side of the planet. On that side, there was nobody at all.
“Then you will judge yourself,” the king answered. “that is the most difficult thing of all. It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others. If you can judge yourself rightly, then you are indeed a man of true wisdom.”
“Yes,” said the little prince, “but I can judge myself anywhere. I do not need to live on this planet.”
“Hum! Hum!” said the king. “I believe that somewhere on my planet there is an old rat. I hear him at night. You can judge this old rat. From time to time you can condemn him to death. Thus his life will depend on your justice. But you will pardon him. We don’t have any more rats.”
“I,” replied the little prince, “do not like to condemn anyone to death. And now I think I will go on my way.”
“No,” said the king.
But the little prince had no wish to grieve the old monarch.
“If Your Majesty wishes,” he said, “you can give me a reasonable order. It seems to me that conditions are favorable.”
As the king made no answer, the little prince hesitated a moment. Then, with a sigh, he went away.
“I make you my Ambassador,” the king shouted, hastily.
“The grown-ups are very strange,” the little prince said to himself, as he continued on his journey.
The second planet was inhabited by a conceited man.
“Ah! Ah! This is my admirer!” he exclaimed from afar, when he saw the little prince.
Because, to conceited men, everyone is an admirer.
“Good morning,” said the little prince. “That is a queer hat you are wearing.”
“It is a hat for salutes,” the conceited man replied. “It is to raise in salute when people acclaim me. Unfortunately, nobody at all ever passes this way.”
“Yes?” said the little prince, who did not understand what the conceited man was talking about.
“Clap your hands,” the conceited man now directed him.
The little prince clapped his hands. The conceited man raised his hat in a modest salute.
“This is more entertaining than the visit to the king,” the little prince said to himself. And he began again to clap his hands. The conceited man again raised his hat in salute.
After five minutes of this exercise the little prince was tired.
“And what must one do to make the hat come down?” he asked.
But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited people never hear anything but praise.
“Do you really admire me very much?” he demanded of the little prince.
“What does that mean—‘admire’?”
“To admire means that you regard me as the handsomest, the best-dressed, the richest, and the most intelligent man on this planet.”
“But you are the only man on your planet!”
“Do me this kindness. Admire me!”
“I admire you,” said the little prince, “but what is there in that to interest you so much?”
And the little prince went away.
“The grown-ups are certainly very odd,” he said to himself, as he continued on his journey.