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."