The little prince left the palace behind him and made his way into the poorer quarters of the city, where the streets grew narrow and the houses leaned against one another like tired old men. Here the snow was not white but grey with soot and filth, and the wind carried the smell of sickness and despair. In these slums lived those whom the great ones of the kingdom had forgotten: beggars with outstretched hands, vagrants without homes, and the sick who lay shivering beneath thin rags.
He moved among them with the crystal vial hidden at first, speaking gently to any who would listen. To an old beggar woman whose lips were cracked with thirst he offered the vial directly. "Drink of this," he said, "and you shall be spared from a great evil that is coming." She eyed him with suspicion, muttering, "Is this some nobleman's poison, sent to finish us quietly?" Yet her thirst was stronger than her fear. She drank, and after a moment her eyes widened. Nothing ill came upon her. Word began to spread like fire through dry grass.
Soon others came: a lame man hobbling on a crutch, a feverish youth with hollow cheeks, and a mother clutching a crying infant to her breast. Each approached with doubt in their eyes. "Will we be taken as slaves if we drink?" one asked. "Are you luring us into some trap of the rich?" But hunger and desperation drove them forward, and one by one they drank straight from the vial. When they found themselves still alive and, in some cases, strangely refreshed, their suspicion turned to eager hope. More came, and then still more, until a small crowd had gathered around the little prince in the narrow alley.
For a time there was joy in his heart such as he had never known. These were the first who had truly received his gift. He saw strength return to weary limbs and heard thanks spoken in cracked voices. "At last," he thought, "I am needed. Here among the least, the angel's mercy finds soil in which to grow." A warm sense of achievement filled him, and for a moment the weight upon his shoulders seemed lighter.
But as the crowd swelled, the shadow that the angel had warned of began to show itself. What had been gratitude quickly twisted into greed. Men pushed and shoved one another to reach the vial first. The old and the weak were thrust aside; an elderly cripple was knocked to the ground and trampled underfoot. A woman holding her baby was jostled so roughly that she nearly fell, shielding the child with her own body. Voices rose in anger.
"Give it to me!" shouted one burly beggar. "I have waited longer than you!"
"You have had your turn," snarled another, elbowing his way forward.
Soon the pushing became fighting. Fists flew, curses filled the air, and the alley echoed with the sounds of desperate struggle. In the chaos some turned their eyes upon the little prince himself. They saw his fine cloak, the cloth of a nobleman, and their hunger changed its shape. Hands reached out not only for the vial but for his garments. They tore at his sleeves and tugged at his robe, crying, "If the bottle is magic, then the clothes must be worth something too! Share with us, high-born boy!"
The little prince stood firm at first, holding the vial high and pleading for order. But the crowd had become a mob. Selfishness, raw and ugly, poured forth like poison from a broken vessel. In that moment he understood more deeply the angel's sorrow. "So this is what the angel meant," he thought. "Even among the suffering, the self devours the self. I have seen it with my own eyes."
Yet even as doubt crept into his heart, he did not despair entirely. For among the many there were a few, a small handful, who had drunk with true humility and now tried to calm the others. These few he remembered. "Some are still worth saving," he told himself. "The light has not gone out altogether."
At last, seeing that further giving would only breed more violence, the little prince slipped away through a side passage while the crowd fought among themselves. His clothes were torn in places and his heart heavier than before, yet a quiet resolve remained. He had saved a few souls that night. The streets had shown him both the best and the worst of the poor.
"Since the lowest will not long keep peace," he said to himself as he walked toward the richer districts, "I must try the upper world. Perhaps among the nobles and the learned, reason and faith will find a better hearing."
The crystal vial still glowed softly against his heart, but now its light seemed smaller against the growing shadows of the world.
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