When we had trudged along for several hours, in silence, the darkness fell,and the stars began to come out.
Thirst had made me a little feverish, and I looked at them as if I were in a dream.
The little prince's last words came reeling back into my memory:
"Then you are thirsty, too?" I demanded.
But he did not reply to my question. He merely said to me:" Water may also be good for the heart... "
I did not understand this answer, but I said nothing. I knew very well that it was impossible to cross-examine him.
He was tired. He sat down. I sat down beside him.
And, after a little silence, he spoke again: "The stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen."
I replied, "Yes, that is so." And, without saying anything more,
I looked across the ridges of sand that were stretched out before us in the moonlight.
"The desert is beautiful," the little prince added.
And that was true. I have always loved the desert.
One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing.
Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams...
"What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well..."
I was astonished by a sudden understanding of that mysterious radiation of the sands.