So the little prince, with a hint of sadness, uprooted the last sprigs of baobabs. He believed he would never return. Yet all these familiar tasks seemed especially dear to him that morning.
And when, for the last time, he watered the flower and was about to place the glass dome over her, he felt like crying.
-Goodbye,- he said to the flower.
But she did not reply.
-Goodbye,- he said again.
The flower gave a little cough. But it wasn’t because of a cold.
-I've been silly,- she said at last. -Please forgive me. Try to be happy.
He was surprised by the absence of reproaches. He stood there, glass dome in hand, quite bewildered. He couldn’t understand this gentle calm.
-Yes, I love you,- the flower said. -You never knew, it was my fault. But that doesn’t matter. You were just as foolish as I was. Try to be happy… and put that glass dome down. I don’t want it anymore.
-But… the wind…
-I’m not that fragile… The cool night air will do me good. I am a flower.
-But the animals…
-I’ll have to put up with two or three caterpillars if I want to meet the butterflies. I hear they’re so beautiful. Otherwise, who will come to visit me? You’ll be far away. As for the bigger animals—I’m not afraid of them. I have my claws.
And she naïvely showed her four thorns.
Then she added:
-Don’t hang around like this, it’s irritating. You’ve decided to go, so go.
She didn’t want him to see her cry.
She was such a proud flower…
