Chapter VII

The fifth day, always thanks to the sheep, this secret of the life of the little prince was revealed to me. He asked me brusquely, without preamble, as the fruit of a problem long meditated in silence:

"A sheep, if he eats the shrubs, he also eats the flowers?"

"A sheep eats whatever he meets."

"Even flowers that have thorns?"

- Yes. Even flowers that have thorns.

"Then the thorns, what are they for?" "

I did not know. I was then very busy trying to unscrew a too tight bolt from my engine. I was very worried because my breakdown was beginning to appear very serious, and the drinking water that was exhausted made me fear the worst.

"Thorns, what are they used for?" "

The little prince never renounced a question once he had asked it. I was irritated by my bolt and I answered no matter what:

"Thorns are useless, it's pure wickedness on the part of flowers!

- Oh ! "

But after a pause he threw me, with a sort of rancor:

" I do not believe you ! Flowers are weak. They are naive. They reassure themselves as best they can. They think they are terrible with their thorns ... "

I made no reply. At that moment I said to myself: "If this bolt still resists, I'll blow it up with a hammer. The little prince again disturbed my reflections:

"And you think that flowers ..."

- But no ! But no ! I do not believe anything! I answered anything. I am busy with serious things! "

He looked at me stunned.

"Serious things! "

He saw me, with my hammer in my hand, and my fingers black with shimmering, bending over an object which seemed very ugly to him.

"You talk like grown-ups!" "

It made me a little ashamed. But, pitiless, he added:

"You confuse everything ... you mix everything! "

He was really very irritated. He shook the gilded hair in the wind:

"I know a planet where there is a crimson gentleman. He never breathed a flower. He never looked at a star. He never loved anyone. He has never done anything other than additions. And all day he repeats like you: "I am a serious man! I am a serious man!" And it makes him swell with pride. But it's not a man, it's a mushroom!

- A what ?

- A fungus ! "

The little prince was now pale with anger.

"Millions of years ago flowers make thorns. Millions of years ago the sheep still eat the flowers. And it is not serious to try to understand why they are doing so much trouble to make thorns that are never used for anything? It's not important the war of sheep and flowers? This is not serious and more important than the additions of a big red gentleman? And if I know a flower unique in the world, which exists nowhere, except in my planet, and a little sheep can annihilate at once, like that, one morning, without realizing What he does is not important! "

He blushed, then resumed:

"If someone loves a flower that only exists in one million and millions of stars, that's enough for him to be happy when he looks at them. He said to himself: "My flower is there somewhere ..." But if the sheep eats the flower, it is for him as if, suddenly, all the stars were extinguished! And that's not important! "

He could say nothing more. He suddenly burst into tears. Night had fallen. I had let go of my tools. I made fun of my hammer, my bolt, my thirst and my death. There was on a star, a planet, mine, the Earth, a little prince to console! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I said to him: "The flower you love is not in danger ... I will draw a muzzle to your sheep ... I will draw an armor for your flower ... I ..." I did not know what to say. I felt very awkward. I did not know how to reach it, where to join it ... It is so mysterious, the land of tears!