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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">
“It looks like A Thousand and One Nights,” said the Englishman,
impatient to meet with the alchemist.
They were surrounded by children, curious to look at the
animals and people that were arriving. The men of the oasis wanted
to know if they had seen any fighting, and the women competed
with one another for access to the cloth and precious stones
brought by the merchants. The silence of the desert was a distant
dream; the travelers in the caravan were talking incessantly,
laughing and shouting, as if they had emerged from the spiritual
world and found themselves once again in the world of people. They
were relieved and happy.
They had been taking careful precautions in the desert, but the
camel driver explained to the boy that oases were always
considered to be neutral territories, because the majority of the
inhabitants were women and children. There were oases
throughout the desert, but the tribesmen fought in the desert,
leaving the oases as places of refuge.
With some difficulty, the leader of the caravan brought all his
people together and gave them his instructions. The group was to
remain there at the oasis until the conflict between the tribes was
over. Since they were visitors, they would have to share living space
with those who lived there, and would be given the best
accommodations. That was the law of hospitality. Then he asked
that everyone, including his own sentinels, hand over their arms to
the men appointed by the tribal chieftains.
“Those are the rules of war,” the leader explained. “The oases
may not shelter armies or troops.”
To the boy’s surprise, the Englishman took a chrome-plated
revolver out of his bag and gave it to the men who were collecting
the arms.
“Why a revolver?” he asked.
“It helped me to trust in people,” the Englishman answered.
Meanwhile, the boy thought about his treasure. The closer he got
to the realization of his dream, the more difficult things became. It
seemed as if what the old king had called “beginner’s luck” were no
longer functioning. In his pursuit of the dream, he was being
constantly subjected to tests of his persistence and courage. So he
could not be hasty, nor impatient. If he pushed forward impulsively,
he would fail to see the signs and omens left by God along his path.
God placed them along my path. He had surprised himself with
the thought. Until then, he had considered the omens to be things of
this world. Like eating or sleeping, or like seeking love or finding a
job. He had never thought of them in terms of a language used by
God to indicate what he should do.
“Don’t be impatient,” he repeated to himself. “It’s like the camel
driver said: ‘Eat when it’s time to eat. And move along when it’s
time to move along.’”
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 36</h5>
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