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The little prince crossed the desert and met with only one flower. It was a flower
with three petals, a flower of no account at all.
"Good morning," said the little prince.
"Good morning," said the flower.
"Where are the men?" the little prince asked, politely.
The flower had once seen a caravan passing.
"Men?" she echoed. "I think there are six or seven of them in existence. I saw
them, several years ago. But one never knows where to find them. The wind blows
them away. They have no roots, and that makes their life very difficult."
"Goodbye," said the little prince.
"Goodbye," said the flower.
