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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 I 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.