Chapter 11
The second planet was inhabited by a conceited man.
"Ah! Ah! I am about to receive a visit from an admirer!" he exclaimed
from afar, when he first saw the little prince coming.
For, to conceited men, all other men are admirers.
"Good morning," said the little prince. "That is a queer hat you are
wearing."
"It is a hat for salutes," the conceited man replied. "It is to
raise in salute when people acclaim me. Unfortunately, nobody at all ever
passes this way."
"Yes?" said the little prince, who did not understand what the
conceited man was talking about.
"Clap your hands, one against the other," the conceited man now
directed him.
The little prince clapped his hands. The conceited man raised
his hat in a modest salute.
"This is more entertaining than the visit to the king," the little
prince said to himself. And he began again to clap his hands, one against
the other. The conceited man against raised his hat in salute.
After five minutes of this exercise the little prince grew tired
of the game's monotony.
"And what should one do to make the hat come down?" he asked.
But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited people never
hear anything but praise.
"Do you really admire me very much?" he demanded of the little
prince.
"What does that mean-- 'admire'?"
"To admire mean that you regard me as the handsomest, the best-dressed,
the richest, and the most intelligent man on this planet."
"But you are the only man on your planet!"
"Do me this kindness. Admire me just the same."
"I admire you," said the little prince, shrugging his shoulders
slightly, "but what is there in that to interest you so much?"
And the little prince went away.
"The grown-ups are certainly very odd," he said to himself, as
he continued on his journey.
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