As each day passed I would learn, in our talk, something about the little prince's planet, his departure from it, his journey. The information would come very slowly, as it might chance to fall from his thoughts. It was in this way that I heard, on the third day, about the catastrophe of the baobabs.
This time, once more, I had the sheep to thank for it. For the little prince asked me abruptly—as if seized by a grave doubt—“It is true, isn't it, that sheep eat little bushes?”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Ah! I am glad!”
I did not understand why it was so important that sheep should eat little bushes. But the little prince added:
“Then it follows that they also eat baobabs?”
I pointed out to the little prince that baobabs were not little bushes, but, on the contrary, trees as big as castles; and that even if he took a whole herd of elephants away with him, the herd would not eat up one single baobab.
The idea of the herd of elephants made the little prince laugh.
“We would have to put them one on top of the other,” he said.
But he made a wise comment:
“Before they grow so big, the baobabs start out by being little.”
“That is strictly correct,” I said. “But why do you want the sheep to eat the little baobabs?”
He answered me at once, “Oh, come, come!”, as if he were speaking of something that was self-evident. And I was obliged to make a great mental effort to solve this problem, without any assistance.
Indeed, as I learned, there were on the planet where the little prince lived—as on all planets—good plants and bad plants. In consequence, there were good seeds from good plants, and bad seeds from bad plants. But seeds are invisible. They sleep deep in the heart of the earth's darkness, until some one among them is seized with the desire to awaken. Then this little seed will stretch itself and begin—timidly at first—to push a charming little sprig inoffensively upward toward the sun. If it is only a sprout of radish or the sprig of a rose-bush, one would let it grow wherever it might wish. But when it is a bad plant, one must destroy it as soon as possible, the very first instant that one recognizes it.
Now there were some terrible seeds on the planet that was the home of the little prince; and these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of that planet was infested with them. A baobab is something you will never, never be able to get rid of if you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. It bores clear through it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and the baobabs are too many, they split it in pieces…
“It is a question of discipline,” the little prince said to me later on. “When you've finished your own toilet in the morning, then it is time to attend to the toilet of your planet, just so, with the greatest care. You must see to it that you pull up regularly all the baobabs, at the very first moment when they can be distinguished from the rosebushes which they resemble so closely in their earliest youth. It is very tedious work,” the little prince added, “but very easy.”
And one day he said to me: “You ought to make a beautiful drawing, so that the children where you live can see exactly how all this is. That would be very useful to them if they were to travel some day. Sometimes,” he added, “there is no harm in putting off a piece of work until another day. But when it is a matter of baobabs, that always means a catastrophe. I knew a planet that was inhabited by a lazy man. He neglected three little bushes…”So, as the little prince described it to me, I have made a drawing of that planet. I do not much like to take the tone of a moralist. But the danger of the baobabs is so little understood, and such considerable risks would be run by anyone who might get lost on an asteroid, that for once I am breaking through my reserve. “Children,” I say plainly, “watch out for the baobabs!”
My friends, like myself, have been skirting this danger for a long time, without ever knowing it; and so it is for them that I have worked so hard over this drawing. The lesson which I pass on by this means is worth all the trouble it has cost me.
Perhaps you will ask me, “Why are there no other drawing in this book as magnificent and impressive as this drawing of the baobabs?”
The reply is simple. I have tried. But with the others I have not been successful. When I made the drawing of the baobabs I was carried beyond myself by the inspiring force of urgent necessity.
每天，我都了解到有关他那颗星球上的一些事，关于他是怎么起程出发的，他在太空里是怎么长途旅行的，等等。这些我都是在他时不时进行沉思时，不动声色地了解到的。第三天，正是在这种情况下，我了解到关于猴面包树的故事。
这回，还得归功于那只绵羊，因为，小王子突然向我发问，好像是在沉思时产生了一个严重的疑惑：“绵羊都爱啃灌木丛，这是真的吗？”
“的确，是真的。”
“哦！那我就高兴了！”
我不明白，为什么绵羊吃不吃灌木丛对他这么事关重大。我还没有想明白，小王子又追问：
“那么，绵羊啃不啃猴面包树呢？”
我提请小王子注意，猴面包树并不是什么低矮的灌木丛，而是高高大大的树，足有教堂那么高。要是他拥有一群大象的话，这群大象摞在一起，还不及一棵猴面包树高呢。
一提到象群，就把小王子逗得笑了起来：
“还得把那些大象一头一头摞起来呀……”
不过，他很聪明，马上就注意到了：
“猴面包树在长成大树之前，起初也是小小的树苗呀。”
“的确是这么回事！可你为什么要让你的绵羊去啃那些猴面包树的小苗呢？”
“嘿，咱们瞧吧！”他这么回答我，似乎这件事是再明白不过的。但是，对我来说，要弄明白是怎么回事，可让我绞尽了脑汁。
实际情况是这样的，在小王子的那颗星球上，也像所有别的星球一样，长有良草与莠草。因此，良草自然产良草籽，莠草产莠草籽。可是，草籽是良是莠，起初是看不见的。它们在地下沉睡，不露出自己的本性。直到有一天，其中的一粒一时兴起，苏醒了过来，伸了个懒腰，朝着太阳羞怯怯地先长出一片嫩嫩的幼芽，它娇美可爱，不露声色。如果这是小红萝卜或玫瑰的幼芽，那就可以任它自由生长。但如果是一株有害植物的幼芽，一旦识别了它，那就必须立即拔掉。
而在小王子的那个星球上，就有那么一种可怕的种子，那就是猴面包树籽。他那个星球的土壤，饱受了这种树的破坏。如果对一棵猴面包树下手晚了的话，那就永远休想把它清除干净。它会不断生长，用自己的根须使劲在星球里穿刺，直到塞满星球。如果这颗星球太小，而猴面包树又铺天盖地，整个星球就会被它们撑破撑裂。
“在我家里，我必须遵守严格的作息制度，”小王子后来这么告诉我，“每天一清早，梳洗完毕之后，我就该仔细认真地清扫星球。猴面包树与玫瑰树刚发芽的时候，非常相似。我一旦把它们区别出来，就必须立即把猴面包树幼苗拔掉。这件工作十分枯燥，但做起来也很容易。”
有一天，他劝我花些工夫画出一幅漂亮的图画，好让地球上的孩子明白以上的道理。他对我这样说：“假如将来有一天他们旅行的话，明白了这种情况，对他们是有用处的。有的时候，把自己的工作搁置一下并无关紧要，但如果在对付猴面包树上拖延了时间，那就会酿成灾难。我就知道这么一个事例：有一个星球，那上面住了一个懒汉，他对三棵小树掉以轻心，结果出了大祸……”
于是，我按照小王子的描述，画出那颗出了大祸的星球。本来，我很不愿意摆出一副说教人的面孔，但是，地球人对猴面包树所能造成的危害实在知之甚少，而且，这种树在一颗小行星上所引起的灾难是那么严重，那么触目惊心。因此，我这一次破例改变自己从不说教的态度，大声说道：“孩子们！要警惕猴面包树！”
为了警告我的朋友们，提防就在他们身边的这种危险，我才费了好大的劲儿画出了上面这幅画。为了防备灾难，花些力气提出告诫，还是很值得的。
你们也许会问，为什么这本书里的其他插图，都不如这幅猴面包树画得有气势。
原因很简单：画这幅画时，我是出自一种特别急切的心情，想要警告地球人；而我画其他插图时，虽说也想画得有气势，但都没有成功。