So, he tended the flower.
So, too, she began very quickly to torment him with her vanity--which was, if the truth be known, a little difficult to deal with.
One day, for instance, when she was speaking of her four thorns, she said to the little prince: "Let the tigers come with their claws!"
"There are no tigers on my planet," the little prince objected.
"And, anyway, tigers do not eat weeds."
"I am not a weed," the flower replied, sweetly.
"Please excuse me . . ."
"I am not at all afraid of tigers," she went on, "but I have a horror of drafts.
I suppose you wouldn't have a screen for me?"
"A horror of drafts--that is bad luck, for a plant," remarked the little prince, and added to himself, "This flower is a very complex creature . . ."