The Alchemist | Page 8

led to the top of the wall. From there, he
could see Africa in the distance. Someone had once told him that it was from there that the Moors had
come, to occupy all of Spain.
He could see almost the entire city from where he sat, including the plaza where he had talked with the
old man. Curse the moment I met that old man, he thought. He had come to the town only to find a
woman who could interpret his dream. Neither the woman nor the old man were at all impressed by the
fact that he was a shepherd. They were solitary individuals who no longer believed in things, and didn't
understand that shepherds become attached to their sheep. He knew everything about each member of
his flock: he knew which ones were lame, which one was to give birth two months from now, and which
were the laziest. He knew how to shear them, and how to slaughter them. If he ever decided to leave
them, they would suffer.

The wind began to pick up. He knew that wind: people called it the levanter, because on it the Moors
had come from the Levant at the eastern end of the Mediterranean.
The levanter increased in intensity. Here I am, between my flock and my treasure, the boy thought. He
had to choose between something he had become accustomed to and something he wanted to have.
There was also the merchant's daughter, but she wasn't as important as his flock, because she didn't
depend on him. Maybe she didn't even remember him. He was sure that it made no difference to her on
which day he appeared: for her, every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next, it's
because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises.
I left my father, my mother, and the town castle behind. They have gotten used to my being away, and
so have I. The sheep will get used to my not being there, too, the boy thought.
From where he sat, he could observe the plaza. People continued to come and go from the baker's
shop. A young couple sat on the bench where he had talked with the old man, and they kissed.
"That baker…" he said to himself, without completing the thought. The levanter was still getting stronger,
and he felt its force on his face. That wind had brought the Moors, yes, but it had also brought the smell
of the desert and of veiled women. It had brought with it the sweat and the dreams of men who had once
left to search for the unknown, and for gold and adventure—and for the Pyramids. The boy felt jealous
of the freedom of the wind, and saw that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold him
back except himself. The sheep, the merchant's daughter, and the fields of Andalusia were only steps
along the way to his destiny.
The next day, the boy met the old man at noon. He brought six sheep with him.
"I'm surprised," the boy said. "My friend bought all the other sheep immediately. He said that he had
always dreamed of being a shepherd, and that it was a good omen."
"That's the way it always is," said the old man. "It's called the principle of favorability. When you play
cards the first time, you are almost sure to win. Beginner's luck."
"Why is that?"
"Because there is a force that wants you to realize your destiny; it whets your appetite with a taste of
success."
Then the old man began to inspect the sheep, and he saw that one was lame. The boy explained that it
wasn't important, since that sheep was the most intelligent of the flock, and produced the most wool.
"Where is the treasure?" he asked.
"It's in Egypt, near the Pyramids."
The boy was startled. The old woman had said the same thing. But she hadn't charged him anything.
"In order to find the treasure, you will have to follow the omens. God has prepared a path for everyone
to follow. You just have to read the omens that he left for you."
Before the boy could reply, a butterfly appeared and fluttered between him and the old man. He
remembered something his grandfather had once told him: that butterflies were a good omen. Like

crickets, and like expectations; like lizards and four-leaf clovers.
"That's right," said the old man, able to read the boy's thoughts. "Just as your grandfather taught you.
These are good omens."
The old man opened his cape, and the boy was struck by what he saw. The old man wore a breastplate
of heavy gold, covered with precious stones. The boy recalled the brilliance he had noticed on the
previous day.
He really was a king! He must be disguised to avoid encounters with