Chapter two

I lived alone, with no one to really talk to, until six years ago when my plane crashed in the Sahara Desert. My engine was broken. Since I had no mechanic or passengers with me, I tried to fix it by myself. It was a matter of life or death: I barely had enough water to last a week.

The first night, I slept on the sand, far from any people. I felt more alone than a sailor lost at sea. So, you can imagine my surprise at sunrise when a strange little voice woke me up. It said: "Please—draw me a sheep!" "What!" "Draw me a sheep!"

I jumped up, shocked. I rubbed my eyes. I looked around carefully. And I saw a very unusual little person, standing there and looking at me seriously. Here is the best picture I could draw of him later. But my drawing is much less lovely than he was.

But that's not my fault. When I was six, adults discouraged me from being a painter, so I only learned to draw boas from the outside and inside.

I stared at this sudden appearance, amazed. Remember, I crashed in the desert far from any people. But the little man didn't seem lost or tired or hungry or thirsty or scared. He didn't look like a child lost in the desert. When I could speak, I said: "But—what are you doing here?"

And he answered by repeating slowly, as if it was very important: "Please—draw me a sheep ..."

When something is too mysterious, you can't refuse. Even though it seemed silly to me, far from people and in danger, I took out paper and a pen. But I remembered I studied geography, history, math, and grammar, not drawing. I told the little guy (a bit annoyed) that I couldn't draw. He said: "It doesn't matter. Draw me a sheep ..."

But I never drew a sheep. So I drew one of my usual pictures: a boa constrictor from the outside. I was surprised when he said, "No, no, no! I don't want an elephant inside a boa. A boa is dangerous, and an elephant is big. Where I live, everything is small. I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep."

So I drew one.

He looked at it carefully and said: "No. This sheep is sick. Draw another one."

So I drew another one.

My friend smiled kindly. "You see," he said, "this isn't a sheep. It's a ram. It has horns."

So I drew it again.

But he didn't like it either. "This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live long."

By then, I was out of patience because I needed to fix my engine. So I quickly drew this.

And I explained: "This is just the box. The sheep you want is inside."

I was surprised to see him light up: "That's perfect! Do you think this sheep needs a lot of grass?"

Translation not available

"Because where I live, everything is small..."

"There will be enough grass for him," I said. "I gave you a very small sheep."

He looked at the drawing: "Not too small—Look! He fell asleep..."

And that's how I met the little prince.