“人們乘坐列車出發(fā)，但是他們卻不知道要尋找什么。于是，他們就焦躁地向前沖，來回轉(zhuǎn)圈子……”小王子說道。
他接著又說：
“這沒有必要……”
我們找到的這口井，和撒哈拉的那些井不一樣。撒哈拉的井只是沙漠中挖的洞。這口井很像村子中的井?？墒?，那里又沒有任何村莊，我想我一定是在夢中。
“好奇怪啊，”我對小王子說，“一切都是現(xiàn)成的：轆轤、水桶、繩子……”
他笑了，拿起繩子，轉(zhuǎn)動著轆轤。轆轤像是一個長期被風(fēng)遺忘的舊風(fēng)向標(biāo)一樣，吱吱作響。
“你聽，”小王子說，“我們喚醒了這口井，它現(xiàn)在唱起歌來了……”
我不想他累到。
“讓我來干吧?！蔽覍λf，“這活對你太重了?！?br/>
我慢慢地把水桶提到井口上。把它穩(wěn)穩(wěn)地放好。因為找到這口井，我既高興又疲憊。我的耳朵里還響著轆轤的歌聲。我看見太陽的影子在晃蕩的水面上跳動。
“我很想喝這水?！毙⊥踝诱f，“給我喝點……”
這時我才明白了他一直尋找的是什么！
我把水桶提到他的嘴邊。他閉著眼睛喝口水。就像過節(jié)一般愉快甜蜜。這水確實不同于一般補給品，它是我們披星戴月走了許多路才找到的，是在轆轤的歌聲中，經(jīng)過我雙手的努力得來的。它像是一件禮品慰藉著我的心靈。在我小的時候，圣誕樹的燈光，午夜里彌撒的音樂，甜蜜的微笑，這一切都使我圣誕節(jié)時收到的禮品輝映著幸福的光彩。
“這里的人會在同一個花園中種五千朵玫瑰?！毙⊥踝诱f，“可是，他們卻不能找到自己想要的東西……”
“他們是找不到的?！蔽一卮鸬馈?br/>
“然而，他們要找的東西，也許就在一朵玫瑰花或一點兒水中……”
“是的?！蔽一卮鸬馈?br/>
小王子又加了一句：
“眼睛是什么也看不見的，應(yīng)該用心去尋找?！?br/>
我喝了水。我愜意地呼吸著空氣。沙漠在晨曦中泛出蜂蜜的光澤。這蜂蜜般的光澤也使我感到幸福。那么，是什么給我這些悲傷的感覺呢？
小王子又重新在我的身邊坐下。他輕輕地對我說：“你必須信守承諾?！?br/>
“什么承諾？”
“你知道……給我的小綿羊一個嘴套子……我要對我的花負責(zé)的呀！”
我從口袋中拿出我的畫稿。小王子看見了那些草圖，笑著說：“你畫的猴面包樹有點像卷心菜……”
“哦！”
我還為我畫的猴面包樹而感到驕傲呢！
“你畫的狐貍……它那雙耳朵……有點像羊犄角……而且又太長了！”
這時，他又笑了。
“小家伙，你太不公正了。我過去只會畫開著肚皮和閉著肚皮的巨蟒。”
“哦，這樣也可以了?！彼f，“孩子們認得出來。”
我就用鉛筆勾畫了一個嘴套。當(dāng)我把它遞給小王子時，我心里很難受：“你的打算，我一點也不知道……”
但是，他不回答我，他對我說：
“你知道嗎，我落在地球上的時間……到明天就一周年了……”
接著，沉默了一會兒，他又說道：“我就落在這附近……”
他的面頰緋紅。
再一次，我不知為什么，又感到一陣莫名其妙的悲傷。這時，我想到了一個問題：“一星期以前，我認識你的那天早上，你單獨一個人在這曠無人煙的地方走著，這么說，這并不是偶然的了？你是要回到你降落的地方去是嗎？”
小王子的臉又紅了。
我猶豫不定地又說了一句：
“可能是因為周年到了吧？……”
小王子臉又紅了。他從來也不回答這些問題，但是，臉紅就等于說“是的”，是吧？
“?。 蔽覍λf，“我有點怕……”
但他卻打斷了我：
“你現(xiàn)在該做事了。你應(yīng)該回到你的飛機那里去。我在這里等你。你明天晚上再來……”
我很擔(dān)心。我想起了狐貍的話。如果被人馴服了，就可能會要哭的……
chapter 25
"men," said the little prince, "set out on their way in express trains, but they do not know what they are looking for. then they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round..."and he added:
"it is not worth the trouble..."the well that we had come to was not like the wells of the sahara. the wells of the sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. this one was like a well in a village. but there was no village here, and i thought i must be dreaming...
"it is strange," i said to the little prince. "everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope..."he laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. and the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.
"do you hear" said the little prince. "we have wakened the well, and it is singing..."i did not want him to tire himself with the rope.
"leave it to me," i said. "it is too heavy for you."i hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there— happy, tired as i was, over my achievement. the song of the pulley was still in my ears, and i could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.
"i am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "give me some of it to drink..."and i understood what he had been looking for.
i raised the bucket to his lips. he drank, his eyes closed. it was as sweet as some special festival treat. this water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. it was good for the heart, like a present. when i was a little boy, the lights of the christmas tree, the music of the midnight mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts i received.
"the men where you live," said the little prince, "raise five thousand roses in the same garden— and they do not find in it what they are looking for.""they do not find it," i replied.
"and yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water.""yes, that is true," i said.
and the little prince added:
"but the eyes are blind. one must look with the heart..."i had drunk the water. i breathed easily. at sunrise the sand is the color of honey. and that honey color was making me happy, too. what brought me, then, this sense of grief "you must keep your promise," said the little prince, softly, as he sat down beside me once more.
"what promise"
"you know— a muzzle for my sheep... i am responsible for this flower..."i took my rough drafts of drawings out of my pocket. the little prince looked them over, and laughed as he said:"your baobabs— they look a little like cabbages.""oh!"
i had been so proud of my baobabs!
"your fox— his ears look a little like horns; and they are too long."and he laughed again.
"you are not fair, little prince," i said. "i don’t know how to draw anything except boa constrictors from the outside and boa constrictors from the inside.""oh, that will be all right," he said, "children understand."so then i made a pencil sketch of a muzzle. and as i gave it to him my heart was torn.
"you have plans that i do not know about," i said.
but he did not answer me. he said to me, instead:"you know— my descent to the earth... tomorrow will be its anniversary."then, after a silence, he went on:"i came down very near here."and he flushed.
and once again, without understanding why, i had a queer sense of sorrow.
one question, however, occurred to me:"then it was not by chance that on the morning when i first met you— a week ago— you were strolling along like that, all alone, a thousand miles from any inhabited region you were on the your back to the place where you landed"the little prince flushed again.
and i added, with some hesitancy:"perhaps it was because of the anniversary"the little prince flushed once more. he never answered questions— but when one flushes does that not mean "yes""ah," i said to him, "i am a little frightened—"but he interrupted me.
"now you must work. you must return to your engine. i will be waiting for you here. come back tomorrow evening..."but i was not reassured. i remembered the fox. one runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed...