The Alchemist Read Online Free PDF Page B

it’s the vanity of vanities, as you said, my Lord. But an old king sometimes has to take some pride in himself.”
     
    H OW STRANGE AFRICA IS, THOUGHT THE BOY.
    He was sitting in a bar very much like the other bars he had seen along the narrow streets of Tangier. Some men were smoking from a gigantic pipe that they passed from one to the other. In just a few hours he had seen men walking hand in hand, women with their faces covered, and priests that climbed to the tops of towers and chanted—as everyone about him went to their knees and placed their foreheads on the ground.
    “A practice of infidels,” he said to himself. As a child in church, he had always looked at the image of Saint Santiago Matamoros on his white horse, his sword unsheathed, and figures such as these kneeling at his feet. The boy felt ill and terribly alone. The infidels had an evil look about them.
    Besides this, in the rush of his travels he had forgotten a detail, just one detail, which could keep him from his treasure for a long time: only Arabic was spoken in this country.
    The owner of the bar approached him, and the boy pointed to a drink that had been served at the next table. It turned out to be a bitter tea. The boy preferred wine.
    But he didn’t need to worry about that right now. What he had to be concerned about was his treasure, and how he was going to go about getting it. The sale of his sheep had left him with enough money in his pouch, and the boy knew that in money there was magic; whoever has money is never really alone. Before long, maybe in just a few days, he would be at the Pyramids. An old man, with a breastplate of gold, wouldn’t have lied just to acquire six sheep.
    The old man had spoken about signs and omens, and, as the boy was crossing the strait, he had thought about omens. Yes, the old man had known what he was talking about: during the time the boy had spent in the fields of Andalusia, he had become used to learning which path he should take by observing the ground and the sky. He had discovered that the presence of a certain bird meant that a snake was nearby, and that a certain shrub was a sign that there was water in the area. The sheep had taught him that.
    If God leads the sheep so well, he will also lead a man, he thought, and that made him feel better. The tea seemed less bitter.
    “Who are you?” he heard a voice ask him in Spanish.
    The boy was relieved. He was thinking about omens, and someone had appeared.
    “How come you speak Spanish?” he asked. The new arrival was a young man in Western dress, but the color of his skin suggested he was from this city. He was about the same age and height as the boy.
    “Almost everyone here speaks Spanish. We’re only two hours from Spain.”
    “Sit down, and let me treat you to something,” said the boy. “And ask for a glass of wine for me. I hate this tea.”
    “There is no wine in this country,” the young man said. “The religion here forbids it.”
    The boy told him then that he needed to get to the Pyramids. He almost began to tell about his treasure, but decided not to do so. If he did, it was possible that the Arab would want a part of it as payment for taking him there. He remembered what the old man had said about offering something you didn’t even have yet.
    “I’d like you to take me there if you can. I can pay you to serve as my guide.”
    “Do you have any idea how to get there?” the newcomer asked.
    The boy noticed that the owner of the bar stood nearby, listening attentively to their conversation. He felt uneasy at the man’s presence. But he had found a guide, and didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity.
    “You have to cross the entire Sahara desert,” said the young man. “And to do that, you need money. I need to know whether you have enough.”
    The boy thought it a strange question. But he trusted in the old man, who had said that, when you really want something, the universe always conspires in your favor.
    He took