The Pilgrimage by Paulo Coelho Page B

three-cornered hat, cape, scallop shells, and in his hand a
     shepherds crook. With a gourd a memorial to the epic journey, now almost forgotten, that
     Petrus and I
    were reliving. We had spent the previous night at one of the many
    monasteries along the Road. The brother of the gate who had greeted us had warned us that
     we were not to speak a word within the walls of the abbey. A young monk had led each of us
     to an alcove, furnished only with the bare necessities: a hard bed, old but clean sheets,
     a pitcher of water and a basin for personal hygiene. There was no plumbing or hot water,
     and the schedule for meals was posted behind the door.
    At the time indicated, we had come down to the dining hall. Because of the vow of silence,
     the monks communicated only with their glances, and I had the impression that their eyes
     gleamed with more intensity than those of other people. The supper was served early
    at narrow tables where we sat with the monks in their brown habits. From his seat, Petrus
     had given me a signal, and I had understood perfectly what he meant: he was dying to light
     a cigarette, but it looked like he was going to have to go through the entire night with-
     out one. The same was true for me, and I dug a nail into the cuticle of my thumb, which
     was already like raw meat. The moment was too beautiful for me to commit any kind of
     cruelty toward myself.
    The meal was served; vegetable soup, bread, fish, and wine. Everyone prayed, and we
     recited the invoca- tion with them. Afterward, as we ate, a monk read from an Epistle of
     Saint Paul.
    But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God hath
     chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty, read the
     monk in a thin, tuneless voice. We are fools for Christs sake. We are made as filth of the
     world and are the offscouring of all things unto this day. But the kingdom of God is not
     in word but in power.
    The admonitions of Paul of the Corinthians echoed off the bare walls of the dining hall
     throughout the meal. As we entered Puente de la Reina we had been talk-
    ing about the monks of the previous night. I confessed to Petrus that I had smoked in my
     room, in mortal fear that someone would smell my cigarette burning. He laughed, and I
     could tell that he had probably been doing the same thing.
    Saint John the Baptist went into the desert, but Jesus went among the sinners, and he
     traveled endlessly, Petrus said, Thats my preference, too.
    In fact, aside from the time he had spent in the desert, Jesus had spent all of his life
     among people.
    Actually, his first miracle was not the saving of someones soul nor the curing of a
     disease, and it wasnt an expulsion of the devil; it was the transforma- tion of water into
     an excellent wine at a wedding because the wine supply of the owner of the house had run
     out.
    After Petrus said this, he suddenly stopped walking. It was so abrupt that I became
     alarmed and stopped, too. We were at the bridge that gave its name to the vil- lage.
     Petrus, though, wasnt looking at the road in front of us. His eyes were fastened on two
     boys who were playing with a rubber ball at the edge of the river. They were eight or ten
     years old and seemed not to have noticed us. Instead of crossing the bridge, Petrus scram-
     bled down the bank and approached the two boys. As always, I followed him without question.
    The boys continued to ignore us. Petrus sat down to watch them at play, until the ball
     fell close to where he was seated. With quick movement, he grabbed the ball and threw it
     to me.
    I caught the ball in the air and waited to see what would happen.
    One of the boys the elder of the two approached me. My first impulse was to throw him
     the ball, but
    Petruss behavior had been so unusual that I decided that I would try to understand what
     was happening.
    Give me the ball, Mister, said the