Chapter 3 Back to the village 第三回 重回村庄
And now it was only four days before he wo-uld be back in that same village. He was excited， and at the same time uneasy： maybe the girl had already forgotten him. Lots of shepherds passed through， selling their wool.
“It doesn't matter，” he said to his sheep. “I know other girls in other places.”
But in his heart he knew that it did matter. And he knew that shepherds， like seamen and like traveling salesmen， always found a town where there was someone who could make them forget the joys of carefree wandering.
The day was dawning， and the shepherd urged his sheep in the direction of the sun. They never have to make any decisions， he thought. Maybe that's why they always stay close to me.
The only things that concerned the sheep were food and water. As long as the boy knew how to find the best pastures in Andalusia， they would be his friends. Yes， their days were all the same， with the seemingly endless hours between sunrise and dusk; and they had never read a book in their young lives， and didn't understand when the boy told them about the sights of the cities. They were content with just food and water， and， in exchange， they generously gave away their wool， their company， and—once in a while—their meat.
If I became a monster today， and decided to kill them， one by one， they would become aware only after most of the flock had been slaughtered， thought the boy.
They trust me， and they've forgotten how to rely on their own instincts， because I lead them to nourishment.
How did the boy's emotion make a change after he returned to the village？ Why？