When I was a child my sisters had a way of giving marks to guests who were honoring our table for the first time。 Conversation might languish for a moment； and then in the silence we would hear the sudden impact of 〃Sixty！'' … a word that could tickle only the family； who knew that one hundred was par。 Branded by this low mark； the guest would all unknowing continue to spend himself in little courtesies while we sat screaming inwardly with delight。
Remembering that little game； I was worried。 And it upset me a bit more to feel my judges so keen。 Judges who knew how to distinguish between candid animals and animals that cheated； who could tell from the tracks of the fox whether he was in a good temper or not； whose instinct for inner movements was so sure and deep。
I liked the sharp eyes of these straightforward little souls； but I should so much have preferred that they play some other game。 And yet； in my cowardly fear of their 〃sixty〃 I passed them the salt； poured out their wine； though each time that I raised my eyes I saw in their faces the gentle gravity of judges who were not to be bought。
Flattery itself was useless： they knew no vanity。 Although they knew not it； they knew。 a marvelous pride； and without any help from me they thought more good of themselves than I should have dared utter。 It did not even occur to me to draw any prestige from my craft； for it is extremely dangerous to clamber up to the topmost branches of a plane…tree simply to see if the nestlings are doing well or to say good morning to one's friends。
My taciturn young friends continued their inspection so imperturbably； I met so often their fleeting glances； that soon I stopped talking。 Silence fell； and in that silence I heard something hiss faintly under the floor； rustle under the table； and then stop。 I raised a pair of puzzled eyes。 Thereupon； satisfied with her examination but applying her last touchstone； as she bit with savage young teeth into her bread the younger daughter explained to me with a candor by which she hoped to slaughter the barbarian （if that was what I was） ：
〃It's the snakes。〃
And content； she said no more； as if that explanation should have sufficed for anyone in whom there remained a last glimmer of intelligence。 Her sister sent a lightning glance to spy out my immediate reflex； and both bent with the gentlest and most ingenuous faces in the world over their plates。
〃Ah！ Snakes； are they？〃
Naturally the words escaped from me against my will。 This that had been gliding between my legs； had been brushing my calves； was snakes！
Fortunately for me； I smiled。 Effortlessly。
They would have known if it had been otherwise。 I smiled because my heart was light； because each moment this house was more and more to my liking。 And also because I wanted to know more about the snakes。 The elder daughter came to my rescue。
〃They nest in a hole under the table。〃
And her sister added： 〃They go back into their nest at about ten o'clock。 During the day they hunt。〃
Now it was my turn to look at them out of the corner of the eye。 What shrewdness！ what silent laughter behind those candid faces！ And what sovereignty they exercised； these princesses guarded by snakes！ Princesses for whom there existed no scorpion； no wasp； no serpent； but only little souls of animals！
As I write； I dream。 All this is very far away。 What has bee of these two fairy princesses？ Girls so fine…grained； so upright； have certainly attracted husbands。 Have they changed； I wonder？ What do they do in their new houses？ Do they feel differently now about the jungle growth and the snakes？ They had been fused with something universal； and then the day had e when the woman had awakened in the maiden； when there had surged in her a longing to find someone who deserved a 〃Ninety…five。〃 The dream of a ninety…five is a weight on the heart。 And then an imbecile had e along。 For the first time those sharp eyes were mistaken and they dressed him in gay colors。 If the imbecile recited verse he was thought a poet。 Surely he must understand the holes in the floor； must love the mongoose！ The trust one put in him； the swaying of the snakes between his legs under the table … surely this must flatter him！ And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who loved only trim lawns。 And the imbecile carried away the princess into slavery。
Wind； Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint…Exupery
Chapter 6 … OasisTitle： Wind； Sand； and Stars
Author： Antoine de Saint…Exupery
Translator： Lewis Galantiere
Publisher： Harcourt Brace Javanovich； New York； 1967
Date first posted： February 2000
Date most recently updated： January 2006
XML markup by Wesman 02/23/2000。
Wind Sand and Stars
Antoine de Saint…Exupery
7
Men of the Desert
THESE； then； were some of the treasures that passed us by when for weeks and months and years we； pilots of the Sahara line； were prisoners of the sands； navigating from one stockade to the next with never an excursion outside the zone of silence。 Oases like these did not prosper in the desert； these memories it dismissed as belonging to the domain of legend。 No doubt there did gleam in distant places scattered round the world … places to which we should return once our work was done … there did gleam lighted windows。 No doubt somewhere there did sit young girls among their white lemurs or their books； patiently corn…pounding souls as rich in delight as secret gardens。 No doubt there did exist such creatures waxing in beauty。 But solitude cultivates a strange mood。
I know that mood。 Three years of the desert taught it to me。 Something in one's heart takes fright； not at the thought of growing old； not at feeling one's youth used up in this mineral universe； but at the thought that far away the whole world is ageing。 The trees have brought forth their fruit； the grain has ripened in the fields； the women have bloomed in their loveliness。 But the season is advancing and one must make haste； but the season is advancing and still one cannot leave； but the season is advancing 。 。 。 and other men will glean the harvest。
Many a night have I savored this taste of the irreparable； wandering in a circle round the fort； our prison； under the burden of the trade…winds。 Sometimes； worn out by a day of flight； drenched in the humidity of the tropical climate； I have felt my heart beat in me like the wheels of an express train； and suddenly； more immediately than when flying； I have felt myself on a journey。 A journey through time。 Time was running through my fingers like the fine sand of the dunes ； the poundings of my heart were bearing me onward towards an unknown future。
Ah； those fevers at night after a day of work in the silence！ We seemed to ourselves to be burning up； like flares set out in the solitude。 And yet we knew joys we could not possibly have known elsewhere。 I shall never be able to express clearly whence es this pleasure men take from aridity； but always and everywhere I have seen men attach themselves more stubbornly to barren lands than to any other。 Men will die for a calcined； leafless； stony mounta