Children should always show great forbearance toward grown-up people.
But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference.
I should have liked to begin this story in the fashion of the fairy-tales.
I should have like to say: "Once upon a time there was a little prince who lived on a planet that was scarcely any bigger than himself, and who had need of a sheep . . ."
To those who understand life, that would have given a much greater air of truth to my story.
For I do not want any one to read my book carelessly.
I have suffered too much grief in setting down these memories.
Six years have already passed since my friend went away from me, with his sheep.
If I try to describe him here, it is to make sure that I shall not forget him.
To forget a friend is sad. Not every one has had a friend.