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.