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<!DOCTYPE html> | ||
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<title>the alchemist</title> | ||
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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. | ||
</p> | ||
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 62</h5> | ||
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