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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
All this happened between sunrise and sunset, the boy thought.
He was feeling sorry for himself, and lamenting the fact that his life
could have changed so suddenly and so drastically.
He was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. He had never even
wept in front of his own sheep. But the marketplace was empty, and
he was far from home, so he wept. He wept because God was unfair,
and because this was the way God repaid those who believed in
their dreams.
When I had my sheep, I was happy, and I made those around me
happy. People saw me coming and welcomed me, he thought. But
now I’m sad and alone. I’m going to become bitter and distrustful of
people because one person betrayed me. I’m going to hate those
who have found their treasure because I never found mine. And I’m
going to hold on to what little I have, because I’m too insignificant to
conquer the world.
He opened his pouch to see what was left of his possessions;
maybe there was a bit left of the sandwich he had eaten on the ship.
But all he found was the heavy book, his jacket, and the two stones
the old man had given him.
As he looked at the stones, he felt relieved for some reason. He
had exchanged six sheep for two precious stones that had been
taken from a gold breastplate. He could sell the stones and buy a
return ticket. But this time I’ll be smarter, the boy thought,
removing them from the pouch so he could put them in his pocket.
This was a port town, and the only truthful thing his friend had told
him was that port towns are full of thieves.
Now he understood why the owner of the bar had been so upset:
he was trying to tell him not to trust that man. “I’m like everyone
else—I see the world in terms of what I would like to see happen,
not what actually does.”
He ran his fingers slowly over the stones, sensing their
temperature and feeling their surfaces. They were his treasure. Just
handling them made him feel better. They reminded him of the old
man.
“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping
you to achieve it,” he had said.
The boy was trying to understand the truth of what the old man
had said. There he was in the empty marketplace, without a cent to
his name, and with not a sheep to guard through the night. But the
stones were proof that he had met with a king—a king who knew of
the boy’s past.
“They’re called Urim and Thummim, and they can help you to
read the omens.” The boy put the stones back in the pouch and
decided to do an experiment. The old man had said to ask very clear
questions, and to do that, the boy had to know what he wanted. So,
he asked if the old man’s blessing was still with him.
He took out one of the stones. It was “yes.”
“Am I going to find my treasure?” he asked.
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 17</h5>
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