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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
He fell asleep, and when he awoke the sun was already high. He
began to dig at the base of the sycamore.
“You old sorcerer,” the boy shouted up to the sky. “You knew the
whole story. You even left a bit of gold at the monastery so I could
get back to this church. The monk laughed when he saw me come
back in tatters. Couldn’t you have saved me from that?”
“No,” he heard a voice on the wind say. “If I had told you, you
wouldn’t have seen the Pyramids. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
The boy smiled, and continued digging. Half an hour later, his
shovel hit something solid. An hour later, he had before him a chest
of Spanish gold coins. There were also precious stones, gold masks
adorned with red and white feathers, and stone statues embedded
with jewels. The spoils of a conquest that the country had long ago
forgotten, and that some conquistador had failed to tell his children
about.
The boy took out Urim and Thummim from his bag. He had used
the two stones only once, one morning when he was at a
marketplace. His life and his path had always provided him with
enough omens.
He placed Urim and Thummim in the chest. They were also a
part of his new treasure, because they were a reminder of the old
king, whom he would never see again.
It’s true; life really is generous to those who pursue their
Personal Legend, the boy thought. Then he remembered that he had
to get to Tarifa so he could give one-tenth of his treasure to the
Gypsy woman, as he had promised. Those Gypsies are really smart,
he thought. Maybe it was because they moved around so much.
The wind began to blow again. It was the levanter, the wind that
came from Africa. It didn’t bring with it the smell of the desert, nor
the threat of Moorish invasion. Instead, it brought the scent of a
perfume he knew well, and the touch of a kiss—a kiss that came
from far away, slowly, slowly, until it rested on his lips.
The boy smiled. It was the first time she had done that.
“I’m coming, Fatima,” he said.
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 62</h5>
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