I have serious reason to believe that the planet from which the little
prince came is the asteroid known as B-612.
This asteroid has only once been seen through the telescope. That was
by a Turkish astronomer, in 1909.
On making his discovery, the astronomer had presented it to the
International Astronomical Congress, in a great demonstration. But he was
in Turkish costume, and so nobody would believe what he said.
Grown-ups are like that ...
Fortunately, however, for the reputation of Asteroid B-612, a Turkish
dictator made a law that his subjects, under pain of death, should change
to European costume. So in 1920 the astronomer gave his demonstration all
over again, dressed with impressive style and elegance. And this time
everybody accepted his report.
If I have told you these details about the asteroid, and made a note
of its number for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways.
When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any
questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his
voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect
butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has
he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only
from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.
If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of
rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they
would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to
say to them: "I saw a house that cost $20,000." Then they would exclaim:
"Oh, what a pretty house that is!"
Just so, you might say to them: "The proof that the little prince
existed is that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking
for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists."
And what good would it do to tell them that? They would shrug their
shoulders, and treat you like a child. But if you said to them: "The
planet he came from is Asteroid B-612," then they would be convinced, and
leave you in peace from their questions.
They are like that. One must not hold it against them. Children should
always show great forbearance toward grown-up people.
* * *
On the fifth day--again, as always, it was thanks to the sheep--the
secret of the little prince's life was revealed to me. Abruptly, without
anything to lead up to it, and as if the question had been born of long
and silent meditation on his problem, he demanded:
"A sheep--if it eats little bushes, does it eat flowers, too?"
"A sheep," I answered, "eats anything it finds in its reach."
"Even flowers that have thorns?"
"Yes, even flowers that have thorns."
"Then the thorns--what use are they?"
I did not know. At that moment I was very busy trying to unscrew a
bolt that had got stuck in my engine. I was very much worried, for it was
becoming clear to me that the breakdown of my plane was extremely serious.
And I had so little drinking-water left that I had to fear for the worst.
"The thorns--what use are they?"
The little prince never let go of a question, once he had asked it. As
for me, I was upset over that bolt. And I answered with the first thing
that came into my head:
"The thorns are of no use at all. Flowers have thorns just for spite!"
"Oh!"
There was a moment of complete silence. Then the little prince flashed
back at me, with a kind of resentfulness:
"I don't believe you! Flowers are weak creatures. They are naive. They
reassure themselves as best they can. They believe that their thorns are
terrible weapons ..."
I did not answer. At that instant I was saying to myself: "If this
bolt still won't turn, I am going to knock it out with the hammer." Again
the little prince disturbed my thoughts:
"And you actually believe that the flowers--"
"Oh, no!" I cried. "No, no, no! I don't believe anything. I answered
you with the first thing that came into my head. Don't you see--I am very
busy with matters of consequence!"
He stared at me, thunderstruck.
"Matters of consequence!"
He looked at me there, with my hammer in my hand, my fingers black
with engine-grease, bending down over an object which seemed to him
extremely ugly ...
"You talk just like the grown-ups!"
That made me a little ashamed. But he went on, relentlessly:
"You mix everything up together ... You confuse everything ..."
He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.
"I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has
never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved
any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And
all day he says over and over, just like you: 'I am busy with matters of
consequence!' And that makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a
man--he is a mushroom!"
"A what?"
"A mushroom!"
The little prince was now white with rage.
"The flowers have been growing thorns for millions of years. For
millions of years the sheep have been eating them just the same. And is it
not a matter of consequence to try to understand why the flowers go to so
much trouble to grow thorns which are never of any use to them? Is the
warfare between the sheep and the flowers not important? Is this not of
more consequence than a fat red-faced gentleman's sums? And if I know--I,
myself--one flower which is unique in the world, which grows nowhere but
on my planet, but which one little sheep can destroy in a single bite some
morning, without even noticing what he is doing--Oh! You think that is not
important!"
His face turned from white to red as he continued:
"If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in
all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy
just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is
there ...' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars
will be darkened ... And you think that is not important!"
* * *
"Ah! Here is a subject," exclaimed the king, when he saw the little
prince coming.
And the little prince asked himself:
"How could he recognize me when he had never seen me before?"
He did not know how the world is simplified for kings. To them, all
men are subjects.
"Approach, so that I may see you better," said the king, who felt
consumingly proud of being at last a king over somebody.
The little prince looked everywhere to find a place to sit down; but
the entire planet was crammed and obstructed by the king's magnificent
ermine robe. So he remained standing upright, and, since he was tired, he
yawned.
"It is contrary to etiquette to yawn in the presence of a king," the
monarch said to him. "I forbid you to do so."
"I can't help it. I can't stop myself," replied the little prince,
thoroughly embarrassed. "I have come on a long journey, and I have had no
sleep ..."
"Ah, then," the king said. "I order you to yawn. It is years since I
have seen anyone yawning. Yawns, to me, are objects of curiosity. Come,
now! Yawn again! It is an order."
"That frightens me ... I cannot, any more ..." murmured the little
prince, now completely abashed.
"Hum! Hum!" replied the king. "Then I--I order you sometimes to yawn
and sometimes to--"
He sputtered a little, and seemed vexed.
For what the king fundamentally insisted upon was that his authority
should be respected. He tolerated no disobedience. He was an absolute
monarch. But, because he was a very good man, he made his orders
reasonable.
"If I ordered a general," he would say, by way of example, "if I
ordered a general to change himself into a sea bird, and if the general
did not obey me, that would not be the fault of the general. It would be
my fault."
"May I sit down?" came now a timid inquiry from the little prince.
"I order you to do so," the king answered him, and majestically
gathered in a fold of his ermine mantle.
But the little prince was wondering ... The planet was tiny. Over what
could this king really rule?
"Sire," he said to him, "I beg that you will excuse my asking you a
question--"
"I order you to ask me a question," the king hastened to assure him.
"Sire--over what do you rule?"
"Over everything," said the king, with magnificent simplicity.
"Over everything?"
The king made a gesture, which took in his planet, the other planets,
and all the stars.
"Over all that?" asked the little prince.
"Over all that," the king answered.
For his rule was not only absolute: it was also universal.
"And the stars obey you?"
"Certainly they do," the king said. "They obey instantly. I do not
permit insubordination."
Such power was a thing for the little prince to marvel at. If he had
been master of such complete authority, he would have been able to watch
the sunset, not forty-four times in one day, but seventy-two, or even a
hundred, or even two hundred times, without ever having to move his chair.
And because he felt a bit sad as he remembered his little planet which he
had forsaken, he plucked up his courage to ask the king a favor:
"I should like to see a sunset ... Do me that kindness ... Order the
sun to set ..."
"If I ordered a general to fly from one flower to another like a
butterfly, or to write a tragic drama, or to change himself into a sea
bird, and if the general did not carry out the order that he had received,
which one of us would be in the wrong?" the king demanded. "The general,
or myself?"
"You," said the little prince firmly.
"Exactly. One must require from each one the duty which each one can
perform," the king went on. "Accepted authority rests first of all on
reason. If you ordered your people to go and throw themselves into the
sea, they would rise up in revolution. I have the right to require
obedience because my orders are reasonable."
"Then my sunset?" the little prince reminded him: for he never forgot
a question once he had asked it.
"You shall have your sunset. I shall command it. But, according to my
science of government, I shall wait until conditions are favorable."
"When will that be?" inquired the little prince.
"Hum! Hum!" replied the king; and before saying anything else he
consulted a bulky almanac. "Hum! Hum! That will be about--about--that will
be this evening about twenty minutes to eight. And you will see how well I
am obeyed!"
The little prince yawned. He was regretting his lost sunset. And then,
too, he was already beginning to be a little bored.
"I have nothing more to do here," he said to the king. "So I shall set
out on my way again."
"Do not go," said the king, who was very proud of having a subject.
"Do not go. I will make you a Minister!"
"Minister of what?"
"Minister of--of Justice!"
"But there is nobody here to judge!"
"We do not know that," the king said to him. "I have not yet made a
complete tour of my kingdom. I am very old. There is no room here for a
carriage. And it tires me to walk."
"Oh, but I have looked already!" said the little prince, turning
around to give one more glance to the other side of the planet. On that
side, as on this, there was nobody at all ...
"Then you shall judge yourself," the king answered. "that is the most
difficult thing of all. It is much more difficult to judge oneself than to
judge others. If you succeed in judging yourself rightly, then you are
indeed a man of true wisdom."
"Yes," said the little prince, "but I can judge myself anywhere. I do
not need to live on this planet.
"Hum! Hum!" said the king. "I have good reason to believe that
somewhere on my planet there is an old rat. I hear him at night. You can
judge this old rat. From time to time you will condemn him to death. Thus
his life will depend on your justice. But you will pardon him on each
occasion; for he must be treated thriftily. He is the only one we have."
"I," replied the little prince, "do not like to condemn anyone to
death. And now I think I will go on my way."
"No," said the king.
But the little prince, having now completed his preparations for
departure, had no wish to grieve the old monarch.
"If Your Majesty wishes to be promptly obeyed," he said, "he should be
able to give me a reasonable order. He should be able, for example, to
order me to be gone by the end of one minute. It seems to me that
conditions are favourable ..."
As the king made no answer, the little prince hesitated a moment.
Then, with a sigh, he took his leave.
"I make you my Ambassador," the king called out, hastily.
He had a magnificent air of authority.
* * *
"What are you doing there?" he said to the tippler, whom he found
settled down in silence before a collection of empty bottles and also a
collection of full bottles.
"I am drinking," replied the tippler, with a lugubrious air.
"Why are you drinking?" demanded the little prince.
"So that I may forget," replied the tippler.
"Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who already was sorry for
him.
"Forget that I am ashamed," the tippler confessed, hanging his head.
"Ashamed of what?" insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him.
"Ashamed of drinking!" The tipler brought his speech to an end, and
shut himself up in an impregnable silence.
And the little prince went away, puzzled.
* * *
The fifth planet was very strange. It was the smallest of all. There
was just enough room on it for a street lamp and a lamplighter. The little
prince was not able to reach any explanation of the use of a street lamp
and a lamplighter, somewhere in the heavens, on a planet which had no
people, and not one house. But he said to himself, nevertheless:
"It may well be that this man is absurd. But he is not so absurd as
the king, the conceited man, the businessman, and the tippler. For at
least his work has some meaning. When he lights his street lamp, it is as
if he brought one more star to life, or one flower. When he puts out his
lamp, he sends the flower, or the star, to sleep. That is a beautiful
occupation. And since it is beautiful, it is truly useful."
When he arrived on the planet he respectfully saluted the lamplighter.
"Good morning. Why have you just put out your lamp?"
"Those are the orders," replied the lamplighter. "Good morning."
"What are the orders?"
"The orders are that I put out my lamp. Good evening."
And he lighted his lamp again.
"But why have you just lighted it again?"
"Those are the orders," replied the lamplighter.
"I do not understand," said the little prince.
"There is nothing to understand," said the lamplighter. "Orders are
orders. Good morning."
And he put out his lamp.
Then he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief decorated with red
squares.
"I follow a terrible profession. In the old days it was reasonable. I
put the lamp out in the morning, and in the evening I lighted it again. I
had the rest of the day for relaxation and the rest of the night for
sleep."
"And the orders have been changed since that time?"
"The orders have not been changed," said the lamplighter. "That is the
tragedy! From year to year the planet has turned more rapidly and the
orders have not been changed!"
"Then what?" asked the little prince.
"Then--the planet now makes a complete turn every minute, and I no
longer have a single second for repose. Once every minute I have to light
my lamp and put it out!"
"That is very funny! A day lasts only one minute, here where you
live!"
"It is not funny at all!" said the lamplighter. "While we have been
talking together a month has gone by."
"A month?"
"Yes, a month. Thirty minutes. Thirty days. Good evening."
And he lighted his lamp again.
As the little prince watched him, he felt that he loved this
lamplighter who was so faithful to his orders. He remembered the sunsets
which he himself had gone to seek, in other days, merely by pulling up his
chair; and he wanted to help his friend.
"You know," he said, "I can tell you a way you can rest whenever you
want to..."
"I always want to rest," said the lamplighter.
For it is possible for a man to be faithful and lazy at the same time.
The little prince went on with his explanation:
"Your planet is so small that three strides will take you all the way
around it. To be always in the sunshine, you need only walk along rather
slowly. When you want to rest, you will walk--and the day will last as
long as you like."
"That doesn't do me much good," said the lamplighter. "The one thing I
love in life is to sleep."
"Then you're unlucky," said the little prince.
"I am unlucky," said the lamplighter. "Good morning."
And he put out his lamp.
"That man," said the little prince to himself, as he continued farther
on his journey, "that man would be scorned by all the others: by the king,
by the conceited man, by the tippler, by the businessman. Nevertheless he
is the only one of them all who does not seem to me ridiculous. Perhaps
that is because he is thinking of something else besides himself."
He breathed a sigh of regret, and said to himself, again:
"That man is the only one of them all whom I could have made my
friend. But his planet is indeed too small. There is no room on it for two
people. ..."
What the little prince did not dare confess was that he was sorry most
of all to leave this planet, because it was blest every day with 1440
sunsets!
* * *
"Oh, look! Here is an explorer!" he exclaimed to himself when he saw
the little prince coming.
The little prince sat down on the table and panted a little. He had
already traveled so much and so far!
"Where do you come from?" the old gentleman said to him.
"What is that big book?" said the little prince. "What are you doing?"
"I am a geographer," said the old gentleman.
"What is a geographer?" asked the little prince.
"A geographer is a scholar who knows the location of all the seas,
rivers, towns, mountains, and deserts."
"That is very interesting," said the little prince. "Here at last is a
man who has a real profession!" And he cast a look around him at the
planet of the geographer. It was the most magnificent and stately planet
that he had ever seen.
"Your planet is very beautiful," he said. "Has it any oceans?"
"I couldn't tell you," said the geographer.
"Ah!" The little prince was disappointed. "Has it any mountains?"
"I couldn't tell you," said the geographer.
"And towns, and rivers, and deserts?"
"I couldn't tell you that, either."
"But you are a geographer!"
"Exactly," the geographer said. "But I am not an explorer. I haven't a
single explorer on my planet. It is not the geographer who goes out to
count the towns, the rivers, the mountains, the seas, the oceans, and the
deserts. The geographer is much too important to go loafing about. He does
not leave his desk. But he receives the explorers in his study. He asks
them questions, and he notes down what they recall of their travels. And
if the recollections of any one among them seem interesting to him, the
geographer orders an inquiry into that explorer's moral character."
"Why is that?"
"Because an explorer who told lies would bring disaster on the books
of the geographer. So would an explorer who drank too much."
"Why is that?" asked the little prince.
"Because intoxicated men see double. Then the geographer would note
down two mountains in a place where there was only one."
"I know some one," said the little prince, "who would make a bad
explorer."
"That is possible. Then, when the moral character of the explorer is
shown to be good, an inquiry is ordered into his discovery."
"One goes to see it?"
"No. That would be too complicated. But one requires the explorer to
furnish proofs. For example, if the discovery in question is that of a
large mountain, one requires that large stones be brought back from it."
The geographer was suddenly stirred to excitement.
"But you--you come from far away! You are an explorer! You shall
describe your planet to me!"
And, having opened his big register, the geographer sharpened his
pencil. The recitals of explorers are put down first in pencil. One waits
until the explorer has furnished proofs, before putting them down in ink.
"Well?" said the geographer expectantly.
"Oh, where I live," said the little prince, "it is not very
interesting. It is all so small. I have three volcanoes. Two volcanoes are
active and the other is extinct. But one never knows."
"One never knows," said the geographer.
"I have also a flower."
"We do not record flowers," said the geographer.
"Why is that? The flower is the most beautiful thing on my planet!"
"We do not record them," said the geographer, "because they are
ephemeral."
"What does that mean--'ephemeral'?"
"Geographies," said the geographer, "are the books which, of all
books, are most concerned with matters of consequence. They never become
old-fashioned. It is very rarely that a mountain changes its position. It
is very rarely that an ocean empties itself of its waters. We write of
eternal things."
"But extinct volcanoes may come to life again," the little prince
interrupted. "What does that mean-- 'ephemeral'?"
"Whether volcanoes are extinct or alive, it comes to the same thing
for us," said the geographer. "The thing that matters to us is the
mountain. It does not change."
"But what does that mean--'ephemeral'?" repeated the little prince,
who never in his life had let go of a question, once he had asked it.
"It means, 'which is in danger of speedy disappearance.'"
"Is my flower in danger of speedy disappearance?"
"Certainly it is."
"My flower is ephemeral," the little prince said to himself, "and she
has only four thorns to defend herself against the world. And I have left
her on my planet, all alone!"
That was his first moment of regret. But he took courage once more.
"What place would you advise me to visit now?" he asked.
"The planet Earth," replied the geographer. "It has a good
reputation."
And the little prince went away, thinking of his flower.
* * *
"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very
pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so
unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking
for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that
mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very
disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are
you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does
that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to
establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a
little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I
have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I
am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you
tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all
the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world ..."
* * *
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt
me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And,
in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if
the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that
will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back
underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow.
And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread.
Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And
that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how
wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also
golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen
to the wind in the wheat ..."
* * *
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure
drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you
any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you ..."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the
wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is
unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will
make you a present of a secret."
* * *
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple
secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is
essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince
repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so
important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince,
so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not
forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You
are responsible for your rose ..."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he
would be sure to remember.
* * *
"Good morning," said the little prince.
"Good morning," said the merchant.
This was a merchant who sold pills that had been invented to quench
thirst. You need only swallow one pill a week, and you would feel no need
of anything to drink.
"Why are you selling those?" asked the little prince.
"Because they save a tremendous amount of time," said the merchant.
"Computations have been made by experts. With these pills, you save
fifty-three minutes in every week."
"And what do I do with those fifty-three minutes?"
"Anything you like . . ."
"As for me," said the little prince to himself, "if I had fifty-three
minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring
of fresh water."
* * *
"Little man," I said, "I want to hear you laugh again."
But he said to me:
"Tonight, it will be a year . . . My star, then, can be found right
above the place where I came to the Earth, a year ago . . ."
"Little man," I said, "tell me that it is only a bad dream--this
affair of the snake, and the meeting-place, and the star . . ."
But he did not answer my plea. He said to me, instead:
"The thing that is important is the thing that is not seen . . ."
"Yes, I know . . ."
"It is just as it is with the flower. If you love a flower that lives
on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are
a-bloom with flowers . . ."
"Yes, I know . . ."
"It is just as it is with the water. Because of the pulley, and the
rope, what you gave me to drink was like music. You remember--how good it
was."
"Yes, I know . . ."
"And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything
is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is
better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so
you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens . . . they will all be
your friends. And, besides, I am going to make you a present . . ."
He laughed again.
"Ah, little prince, dear little prince! I love to hear that laughter!"
"That is my present. Just that. It will be as it was when we drank the
water ..."
"What are you trying to say?"
"All men have the stars," he answered, "but they are not the same
things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are
guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For
others, who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman they were
wealth. But all these stars are silent. You--you alone--will have the
stars as no one else has them--"
"What are you trying to say?"
"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be
laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you
look at the sky at night ... You--only you--will have stars that can
laugh!"
* * *
That night I did not see him set out on his way. He got away from me
without making a sound. When I succeeded in catching up with him he was
walking along with a quick and resolute step. He said to me merely:
"Ah! You are there . . ."
And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying.
"It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look as if I
were dead; and that will not be true . . ."
I said nothing.
"You understand . . . it is too far. I cannot carry this body with me.
It is too heavy."
I said nothing.
"But it will be like an old abandoned shell. There is nothing sad
about old shells ..."
* * *
But there is one extraordinary thing . . . when I drew the muzzle for
the little prince, I forgot to add the leather strap to it. He will never
have been able to fasten it on his sheep. So now I keep wondering: what is
happening on his planet? Perhaps the sheep has eaten the flower . . .
At one time I say to myself: "Surely not! The little prince shuts his
flower under her glass globe every night, and he watches over his sheep
very carefully . . ." Then I am happy. And there is sweetness in the
laughter of all the stars.
But at another time I say to myself: "At some moment or other one is
absent-minded, and that is enough! On some one evening he forgot the glass
globe, or the sheep got out, without making any noise, in the night . . ."
And then the little bells are changed to tears . . .
Here, then, is a great mystery. For you who also love the little
prince, and for me, nothing in the universe can be the same if somewhere,
we do not know where, a sheep that we never saw has--yes or no?--eaten a
rose . . .
Look up at the sky. Ask yourselves: is it yes or no? Has the sheep
eaten the flower? And you will see how everything changes . . .
And no grown-up will ever understand that this is a matter of so much
importance!
* * *