IX

...
The little prince also uprooted, a little sadly, the last baobab shoots. He believed he would never be coming back. But all these familiar tasks seemed very sweet to him on this last morning. And when he watered the flower one last time, and put her under glass, he felt like crying.
"Good-bye," he said to the flower.
But she did not answer him.
"Good-bye," he repeated.
The flower coughed. But not because she had a cold.
"I've been silly," she told him at last. "I ask your forgiveness. Try to be happy."
He was quite surprised that there were no reproaches. He stood there, quite bewildered, holding the glass bell in midair. He failed to understand this calm sweetness.
"Of course I love you," the flower told him. "It was my fault you never knew. It doesn't matter. But you were just as silly as I was. Try to be happy ... Put that glass thing down. I don't want it anymore."
"But the wind ..."
"My cold isn't that bad ... The night air will do me good. I'm a flower."
"But the animals ..."
"I need to put up with two or three caterpillars if I want to get to know the butterflies. Apparently they're very beautiful. Otherwise who will visit me? You'll be far away. As for the big animals, I'm not afraid of them. I have my own claws." And she naively showed her four thorns. Then she added, "Don't hang around like this; it's irritating. You made up your mind to leave. Now go."
For she didn't want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower ....