As the little prince dropped off to sleep, I took him in my arms and set out walking once more. I felt deeply moved, and stirred. It seemed to me that I was carrying a very fragile treasure. It seemed to me, even, that there was nothing more fragile on all Earth. In the moonlight I looked at his pale forehead, his closed eyes, his locks of hair that trembled in the wind, and I said to myself: " what I see here is nothing but a shell. What is more important is invisible...." As his lips opened slightly with the suspicious of a half-smile, I said to myself, again, " what movesme so deeply, about this little prince who is sleeping here, is his loyalty to a flower--the image of rose that shines through his whole being like the flame of a lamp. Even when he is asleep...” And I felt him to be more fragile still.I felt the need of protecting him, as if he himself were a flame that might be extinguished by a little puff of wind….