百年孤独(英文版)-第17部分

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rsation。　When　the　guard　announced　the　end　of　the　visit；　Aureliano　took　out　a　roll　of　sweaty　papers　from　under　the　cot。　They　were　his　poetry；　the　poems　inspired　by　Remedios；　which　he　had　taken　with　him　when　he　left；　and　those　he　had　written　later　on　during　chance　pauses　in　the　war。　“Promise　me　that　no　one　will　read　them；？he　said。　“Light　the　oven　with　them　this　very　night。？？rsula　promised　and　stood　up　to　kiss　him　goodbye。
　　　“I　brought　you　a　revolver；？she　murmured。
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　saw　that　the　sentry　could　not　see。　“It　won’t　do　me　any　good；？he　said　in　a　low　voice；　“but　give　it　to　me　in　case　they　search　you　on　the　way　out。？？rsula　took　the　revolver　out　of　her　bodice　and　put　it　under　the　mattress　of　the　cot。　“And　don’t　say　goodbye；？he　concluded　with　emphatic　calmness。　“Don’t　beg　or　bow　down　to　anyone。　Pretend　that　they　shot　me　a　long　time　ago。？？rsula　bit　her　lip　so　as　not　to　cry。
　　　“Put　some　hot　stones　on　those　sores；？she　said。
　　　She　turned　halfway　around　and　left　the　room。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　remained　standing；　thoughtful；　until　the　door　closed。　Then　he　lay　down　again　with　his　arms　open。　Since　the　beginning　of　adolescence；　when　he　had　begun　to　be　aware　of　his　premonitions；　he　thought　that　death　would　be　announced　with　a　definite；　unequivocal；　irrevocable　signal；　but　there　were　only　a　few　hours　left　before　he　would　die　and　the　signal　had　not　e。　On　a　certain　occasion　a　very　beautiful　woman　had　e　into　his　camp　in　Tucurinca　and　asked　the　sentries？permission　to　see　him。　They　let　her　through　because　they　were　aware　of　the　fanaticism　of　mothers；　who　sent　their　daughters　to　the　bedrooms　of　the　most　famous　warriors；　according　to　what　they　said；　to　improve　the　breed。　That　night　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　finishing　the　poem　about　the　man　who　is　lost　in　the　rain　when　the　girl　came　into　his　room。　He　turned　his　back　to　her　to　put　the　sheet　of　paper　into　the　locked　drawer　where　he　kept　his　poetry。　And　then　he　sensed　it。　He　grasped　the　pistol　in　the　drawer　without　turning　his　head。
　　　“Please　don’t　shoot；？he　said。
　　　When　he　turned　around　holding　his　Pistol；　the　girl　had　lowered　hers　and　did　not　know　what　to　do。　In　that　way　he　had　avoided　four　out　of　eleven　traps。　On　the　other　hand；　someone　who　was　never　caught　entered　the　revolutionary　headquarters　one　night　in　Manaure　and　stabbed　to　death　his　close　friend　Colonel　Magnífico　Visbal；　to　whom　he　had　given　his　cot　so　that　he　could　sweat　out　a　fever。　A　few　yards　away；　sleeping　in　a　hammock　in　the　same　room。　he　was　not　aware　of　anything。　His　efforts　to　systematize　his　premonitions　were　useless。　They　would　e　suddenly　in　a　wave　of　supernatural　lucidity；　like　an　absolute　and　momentaneous　conviction；　but　they　could　not　be　grasped。　On　occasion　they　were　so　natural　that　he　identified　them　as　premonitions　only　after　they　had　been　fulfilled。　Frequently　they　were　nothing　but　ordinary　bits　of　superstition。　But　when　they　condemned　him　to　death　and　asked　him　to　state　his　last　wish；　he　did　not　have　the　least　difficulty　in　identifying　the　premonition　that　inspired　his　answer。
　　　“I　ask　that　the　sentence　be　carried　out　in　Macondo；？he　said。
　　　The　president　of　the　courtmartial　was　annoyed。　“Don’t　be　clever；　Buendía；？　he　told　him。　“That’s　just　a　trick　to　gain　more　time。？
　　　“If　you　don’t　fulfill　it；　that　will　be　your　worry。？the　colonel　said；　“but　that’s　my　last　wish。？
　　　Since　then　the　premonitions　had　abandoned　him。　The　day　when　？rsula　visited　him　in　jail；　after　a　great　deal　of　thinking　he　came　to　the　conclusion　that　perhaps　death　would　not　be　announced　that　time　because　it　did　not　depend　on　chance　but　on　the　will　of　his　executioners。　He　spent　the　night　awake；　tormented　by　the　pain　of　his　sores。　A　little　before　dawn　he　heard　steps　in　the　hallway。　“They’re　ing；？he　said　to　himself；　and　for　no　reason　he　thought　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　who　at　that　moment　was　thinking　about　him　under　the　dreary　dawn　of　the　chestnut　tree。　He　did　not　feel　fear　or　nostalgia；　but　an　intestinal　rage　at　the　idea　that　this　artificial　death　would　not　let　him　see　the　end　of　so　many　things　that　he　had　left　unfinished。　The　door　opened　and　a　sentry　came　in　with　a　mug　of　coffee。　On　the　following　day　at　the　same　hour　he　would　still　be　doing　what　he　was　then；　raging　with　the　pain　in　his　armpits；　and　the　same　thing　happened。　On　Thursday　he　shared　the　sweet　milk　candy　with　the　guards　and　put　on　his　clean　clothes；　which　were　tight　for　him；　and　the　patent　leather　boots。　By　Friday　they　had　still　not　shot　him。
　　　Actually；　they　did　not　dare　carry　out　the　sentence。　The　rebelliousness　of　the　town　made　the　military　men　think　that　the　execution　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　might　have　serious　political　consequences　not　only　in　Macondo　but　throughout　the　area　of　the　swamp；　so　they　consulted　the　authorities　in　the　capital　of　the　province。　On　Saturday　night；　while　they　were　waiting　for　an　answer　Captain　Roque　Carnicero　went　with　some　other　officers　to　Catarino’s　place。　Only　one　woman；　practically　threatened；　dared　take　him　to　her　room。　“They　don’t　want　to　go　to　bed　with　a　man　they　know　is　going　to　die；？she　confessed　to　him。　“No　one　knows　how　it　will　e；　but　everybody　is　going　around　saying　that　the　officer　who　shoots　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　all　the　soldiers　in　the　squad；　one　by　one；　will　be　murdered；　with　no　escape；　sooner　or　later；　even　if　they　hide　at　the　ends　of　the　earth。？Captain　Roque　Carnicero　mentioned　it　to　the　other　officers　and　they　told　their　superiors。　On　Sunday；　although　no　one　had　revealed　it　openly；　although　no　action　on　the　part　of　the　military　had　disturbed　the　tense　calm　of　those　days；　the　whole　town　knew　that　the　officers　were　ready　to　use　any　manner　of　pretext　to　avoid　responsibility　for　the　execution。　The　official　order　arrived　in　the　Monday　mail：　the　execution　was　to　be　carried　out　within　twentyfour　hours。　That　night　the　officers　put　seven　slips　of　paper　into　a　cap；　and　Captain　Roque　Carnicero’s　unpeaceful　fate　was　foreseen　by　his　name　on　the　prize　slip。　“Bad　luck　doesn’t　have　any　chinks　in　it；？he　said　with　deep　bitterness。　“I　was　born　a　son　of　a　bitch　and　I’m　going　to　die　a　son　of　a　bitch。？At　five　in　the　morning　he　chose　the　squad　by　lot；　formed　it　in　the　courtyard；　and　woke　up　the　condemned　man　with　a　premonitory　phrase。
　　　“Let’s　go；　Buendía；？he　told　him。　“Our　time　has　e。？
　　　“So　that’s　what　it　was；？the　colonel　replied。　“I　was　dreaming　that　my　sores　had　burst。？
　　　Rebeca　Buendía　got　up　at　three　in　the　morning　when　she　learned　that　Aureliano　would　be　shot。　She　stayed　in　the　bedroom　in　the　dark；　watching　the　cemetery　wall　through　the　halfopened　window　as　the　bed　on　which　she　sat　shook　with　Jos？Arcadio’s　snoring。　She　had　waited　all　week　with　the　same　hidden　persistence　with　which　during　different　times　she　had　waited　for　Pietro　Crespi’s　letters。　“They　won’t　shoot　him　here；？Jos？Arcadio；　told　her。　“They’ll　shoot　him　at　midnight　in　the　barracks　so　that　no　one　will　know　who　made　up　the　squad；　and　they’ll　bury　him　right　there。？Rebeca　kept　on　waiting。　“They’re　stupid　enough　to　shoot　him　here；？she　said。　She　was　so　certain　that　she　had　foreseen　the　way　she　would　open　the　door　to　wave　goodbye。　“They　won’t　bring　him　through　the　streets；？Jos？Arcadio　insisted；　with　six　scared　soldiers　and　knowing　that　the　people　are　ready　for　anything。？Indifferent　to　her　husband’s　logic；　Rebeca　stayed　by　the　window。
　　　“You’ll　see　that　they’re　just　stupid　enough；？she　said。
　　　On　Tuesday；　at　fivein　the。　morning；　Jos？Arcadio　had　drunk　his　coffee　and　let　the　dogs　out　when　Rebeca　closed　the　window　and　held　onto　the　head　of　the　bed　so　as　not　to　fall　down。　“There；　they’re　bringing　him；？she　sighed。　“He’s　so　handsome。？Jos？Arcadio　looked　out　the　window　and　saw　him。　tremulous　in　the　light　of　dawn。　He　already　had　his　back　to　the　wall　and　his　hands　were　on　his　hips　because　the　burning　knots　in　his　armpits　would　not　let　him　lower　them。　“A　person　fucks　himself　up　so　much；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　said。　“Fucks　himself　up　so　much　just　so　that　six　weak　fairies　can　kill　him　and　he　can’t　do　anything　about　it。？He　repeated　it　with　so　much　rage　that　it　almost　seemed　to　be　fervor；　and　Captain　Roque　Carnicero　was　touched；　because　he　thought　he　was　praying。　When　the　squad　took　aim；　the　rage　had　materialized　into　a　viscous　and　bitter　substance　that　put　his　tongue　to　sleep　and　made　him　close　his　eyes。　Then　the　aluminum　glow　of　dawn　disappeared　and　he　saw　himself　again　in　short　pants；　wearing　a　tie　around　his　neck；　and　he　saw　his　father　leading　him　into　the　tent　on　a　splendid　afternoon；　and　he　saw　the　ice。　When　he　heard　the　shout　he　thought　that　it　was　the　final　mand　to　the　squad。　He　opened　his　eyes　with　a　shudder　of　curiosity；　expecting　to　meet　the　incandescent　trajectory　of　the　bullets；　but　he　only　saw　Captain　Roque　Carnicero　with　his　arms　in　the　air　and　Jos？Arcadio　crossing　the　street　with　his　fearsome　shotgun　ready　to　go　off。
　　　“Don’t　shoot；？the　captain　said　to　Jos？Arcadio。　“You　were　sent　by　Divine　Providence。？
　　　Another　war　began　right　there。　Captain　Roque　Carnicero　and　his　six　men　left　with　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　to　free　the　revolutionary　general　Victorio　Medina；　who　had　been　condemned　to　death　in　Riohacha。　They　thought　they　could　save　time　by　crossing　the　mountains　along　the　trail　that　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　had　followed　to　found　Macondo；　but　before　a　week　was　out　they　were　convinced　that　it　was　an　impossible　undertaking。　So　they　had　to　follow　the　dangerous　route　over　the　outcroppings；　with　no　other　munitions　but　what　the　firing　squad　had。　They　would　camp　near　the　towns　and　one　of　them；　with　a　small　gold　fish　in　his　hand；　would　go　in　disguise　in　broad　daylight　to　contact　the　dormant　Liberals；　who　would　go　out　hunting　on　the　following　morning　and　never　return。　When　they　saw　Riohacha　from　a　ridge　in　the　mountains；　General　Victorio　Medina　had　been　shot。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　men　proclaimed　him　chief　of　the　revolutionary　forces　of　the　Caribbean　coast　with　the　rank　of　general。　He　assumed　the　position　but　refused　the　promotion　and　took　the　stand　that　he　would　never　accept　it　as　long　as　the　Conservative　regime　was　in　power。　At　the　end　of　three　months　they　had　succeeded　in　arming　more　than　a　thousand　men；　but　they　were　wiped　out。　The　survivors　reached　the　eastern　frontier。　The　next　thing　that　was　heard　of　them　was　that　they　had　landed　on　Cabo　de　la　Vela；　ing　from　the　smaller　islands　of　the　Antilles；　and　a　message　from　the　government　was　sent　all　over　by　telegraph　and　included　in　jubilant　proclamations　throughout　the　country　announcing　the　death　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。　But　two　days　later　a　multiple　telegram　which　almost　overtook　the　previous　one　announced　another　uprising　on　the　southern　plains。　That　was　how　the　legend　of　the　ubiquitous　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　began。　Simultaneous　and　contradictory　information　declared　him　victorious　in　Villanueva。　defeated　in　Guacamayal；　devoured　by　Motilón　Indians；　dead　in　a　village　in　the　swamp；　and　up　in　arms　again　in　Urumita。　The　Liberal　leaders；　who　at　that　moment　were　negotiating　for　participation　in　the　congress；　branded　him　in　adventurer　who　did　not　represent　the　party。　The　national　government　placed　him　in　the　category　of　a　bandit　and　put　a　price　of　five　thousand　pesos　on　his　head。　After　sixteen　defeats；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　left　Guajira　with　two　thousand　wellarmed　Indians　and　the　garrison；　which　was　taken　by　surprise　as　it　slept；　abandoned　Riohacha。　He　established　his　headquarters　there　and　proclaimed　total　war　against　the　regime。　The　first　message　he　received　from　the　government　was　a　threat　to　shoot　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　within　fortyeight　hours　if　he　did　not　withdraw　with　his　forces　to　the　eastern　frontier。　Colonel　Roque　Carnicero；　who　was　his　chief　of　staff　then；　gave　him　the　telegram　with　a　look　of　consternation；　but　he　read　it　with　unforeseen　joy。
　　　“How　wonderful！？he　exclaimed。　“We　have　a　telegraph　office　in　Macondo　now。？
　　　His　reply　was　definitive。　In　three　months　he　expected　to　establish　his　headquarters　in　Macondo。　If　he　did　not　find　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　alive　at　that　time　he　would　shoot　out　of　hand　all　of　the　officers　he　held　prisoner　at　that　moment　starting　with　the　generals；　and　he　would　give　orders　to　his　subordinates　to　do　the　same　for　the　rest　of　the　war。　Three　months　later；　when　he　entered　Macondo　in　triumph；　the　first　embrace　he　received　on　the　swamp　road　was　that　of　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez。
　　　The　house　was　full　of　children。　？rsula　had　taken　in　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　with　her　older　daughter　and　a　pair　of　twins；　who　had　been　born　five　months　after　Arcadio　had　been　shot。　Contrary　to　the　victim’s　last　wishes；　she　baptized　the　girl　with　the　name　of　Remedios。　I’m　sure　that　was　what　Arcadio　meant；？she　alleged。　“We　won’t　call　her　？rsula；　because　a　person　suffers　too　much　with　that　name。？The　twins　were　named　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　and　Aureliano　Segundo。　Amaranta　took　care　of　them　all。　She　put　small　wooden　chairs　in　the　living　room　and　established　a　nursery　with　other　children　from　neighboring　families。　When　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　returned　in　the　midst　of　exploding　rockets　and　ringing　bells；　a　children’s　chorus　weled　him　to　the　house。　Aureliano　Jos？　tall　like　his　grandfather；　dressed　as　a　revolutionary　officer；　gave　him　military　honors。
　　　Not　all　the　news　was　good。　A　year　after　the　flight　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　Jos？Arcadio　and　Rebeca　went　to　live　in　the　house　Arcadio　had　built。　No　one　knew　about　his　intervention　to　halt　the　execution。　In　the　new　house；　located　on　the　best　corner　of　the　square；　in　the　shade　of　an　almond　tree　that　was　honored　by　three　nests　of　redbreasts；　with　a　large　door　for　visitors　and　four　windows　for　light；　they　set　up　a　hospitable　home。　Rebeca’s　old　friends；　among　them　four　of　the　Moscote　sisters　who　were　still　single；　once　more　took　up　the　sessions　of　embroidery　that　had　been　interrupted　years　before　on　the　porch　with　the　begonias。　Jos？Arcadio　continued　to　profit　from　the　usurped　lands；　the　title　to　which　was　recognized　by　the　Conservative　government。　Every　afternoon　he　could　be　seen　returning　on　horseback；　with　his　hunting　dogs　and　his　doublebarreled　shotgun　and　a　string　of　rabbits　hanging　from　his　saddle。　One　September　afternoon；　with　the　threat　of　a　storm；　he　returned　home　earlier　than　usual。　He　greeted　Rebeca　in　the　dining　room；　tied　the　dogs　up　in　the　courtyard；　hung　the　rabbits　up　in　the　kitchen　to　be　salted　later；　and　went　to　the　bedroom　to　change　his　clothes。　Rebeca　later　declared　that　when　her　husband　went　into　the　bedroom　she　was　locked　in　the　bathroom　and　did　not　hear　anything。　It　was　a　difficult　version　to　believe；　but　there　was　no　other　more　plausible；　and　no　one　could　think　of　any　motive　for　Rebeca　to　murder　the　man　who　had　made　her　happy。　That　was　perhaps　the　only　mystery　that　was　never　cleared　up　in　Macondo。　As　soon　as　Jos？Arcadio　closed　the　bedroom　door　the　sound　of　a　pistol　shot　echoed　through　the　house。　A　trickle　of　blood　came　out　under　the　door；　crossed　the　living　room；　went　out　into　the　street；　continued　on　in　a　straight　line　across　the　uneven　terraces；　went　down　steps　and　climbed　over　curbs；　passed　along　the　Street　of　the　Turks；　turned　a　corner　to　the　right　and　another　to　the　left；　made　a　right　angle　at　the　Buendía　house；　went　in　under　the　closed　door；　crossed　through　the　parlor；　hugging　the　walls　so　as　not　to　stain　the　rugs；　went　on　to　the　other　livi