Chapter 2

And so I lived alone, with no one really to talk to, until a breakdown in the Saharan desert, six years ago. Something had failed in my engine. As I had neither passengers nor a mechanic, I was getting ready to attempt, all on my own, some difficult repairs.

It was a matter of life or death. I had scarcely enough drinking water to last eight days.

That first night I went to sleep on the sand a thousand miles from any human dwelling. I was much more alone than a person shipwrecked on a raft in the middle of the ocean. So you can imagine my surprise when, at sunrise, a strange little voice woke me. It said:

“Please… draw me a sheep!”

“Huh!”

“Draw me a sheep…”

I leapt to my feet as if struck by lightning. I rubbed my eyes thoroughly. I had a good look. And I saw an altogether extraordinary little fellow who was watching me with a solemn expression. Here is the best portrait that I was able to make of him, later on. But, of course, my drawing is much less beautiful than the model. It’s not my fault. Grown-ups had discouraged me from my artistic career when I was six, and I hadn’t learnt to draw anything other than open or closed boa constrictors.

So I was watching this apparition with wide, astonished eyes. Don’t forget that I was a thousand miles from any human dwelling. Yet my little fellow looked neither lost, nor dying of weariness, dying of hunger, dying of thirst or dying of fear. He seemed nothing like a child lost in the middle of the desert, a thousand miles from any human dwelling. When at last I managed to speak, I asked him:

“But… what are you doing out here?”

And he said again, very softly, in all seriousness:

“Please… draw me a sheep…”

When a mystery is too overwhelming, you dare not disobey. As absurd as it seemed to me a thousand miles from any human dwelling and in mortal danger, I reached into my pocket for a piece of paper and a pen. Then I remembered that I had studied mostly geography, history, mathematics and grammar, and I said to the little fellow (in something of a bad mood) that I didn’t know how to draw. He replied:

“It doesn’t matter. Draw me a sheep.”

As I had never drawn a sheep, I redid, for his benefit, one of the only two drawings I was capable of. That of the closed boa constrictor. And I was astounded to hear the little man reply:

“No! No! I don’t want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is dangerous, and an elephant is very bulky. My home’s very small. I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep.”

So I drew.

He looked carefully, then said:

“No! That one’s already very ill. Do another.”

I drew:

My friend smiled kindly, indulgently:

“See for yourself… that’s not a sheep, it’s a ram. It’s got horns…”

So I redid my drawing again:

But it was rejected, like the previous ones:

“That one’s too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time.”

Finally, my patience at an end, as I was in a hurry to start dismantling my engine, I scribbled this drawing:

And I exclaimed:

“That’s the crate. The sheep you want is inside.”

But I was very surprised to see my young critic’s face light up:

“That’s exactly how I wanted it! Do you think this sheep needs a lot of grass?”

“Why?”

“Because my place is very small…”

“I’m sure it’ll be enough. I’ve given you a very small sheep.”

He bent his head over the drawing:

“Not that small… Look! It’s fallen asleep…”

And so it was that I made the acquaintance of the little prince.

Appendix

因此我一直都是一个人，没有真正可以说话的朋友。直到６年前，在撒哈拉沙漠遇到了一次事故。我驾驶的飞机出现了引擎故障，当时既没有闲散的乘客，也没有专业的工程师，我正准备一个人尝试对飞机进行修理。

这是一个关乎生死的问题，剩余的水最多只够 8 天了。

第一天我就睡在离人类居住几千公里的沙子上。我感觉比在大海中遇到船难更加孤独。所以你能够想象到，在日出的时候，一个奇怪的小声音把我叫醒，我感觉有多么惊喜。他说：

“请……给我画一直羊！”

“嗯？”

“给我画一只羊……”

我像是被闪电击中一样跳起来，使劲揉了揉眼睛，仔细看了一下，看到一个神情严肃的小家伙看着我。这是我能画出的最好的肖像画了，我的画可能不太好看，你们也知道，我的艺术生涯在 6 岁的时候被大人们扼杀了。

我先是给他画了一条以前我画的蟒蛇。

“不，我不想要在蟒蛇肚子里的大象，蟒蛇很危险，并且大象太笨重了，我的家很小。我需要一只羊，给我画一只羊。”

然后我画了一个箱子，“这是一个箱子，你想要的羊就在这里面。”

他的脸上出现了笑容，这正是他想要的。

就这样，我和小王子相遇了。