百年孤独(英文版)-第18部分

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crossed　through　the　parlor；　hugging　the　walls　so　as　not　to　stain　the　rugs；　went　on　to　the　other　living　room；　made　a　wide　curve　to　avoid　the　diningroom　table；　went　along　the　porch　with　the　begonias；　and　passed　without　being　seen　under　Amaranta’s　chair　as　she　gave　an　arithmetic　lesson　to　Aureliano　Jos？；　and　went　through　the　pantry　and　came　out　in　the　kitchen；　where　？rsula　was　getting　ready　to　crack　thirtysix　eggs　to　make　bread。
　　　“Holy　Mother　of　God！？？rsula　shouted。
　　　She　followed　the　thread　of　blood　back　along　its　course；　and　in　search　of　its　origin　she　went　through　the　pantry；　along　the　begonia　porch　where　Aureliano　Jos？was　chanting　that　three　plus　three　is　six　and　six　plus　three　is　nine；　and　she　crossed　the　dining　room　and　the　living　rooms　and　followed　straight　down　the　street；　and　she　turned　first　to　the　right　and　then　to　the　left　to　the　Street　of　the　Turks；　fetting　that　she　was　still　wearing　her　baking　apron　and　her　house　slippers；　and　she　came　out　onto　the　square　and　went　into　the　door　of　a　house　where　she　had　never　been；　and　she　pushed　open　the　bedroom　door　and　was　almost　suffocated　by　the　smell　of　burned　gunpowder；　and　she　found　Jos？Arcadio　lying　face　down　on　the　ground　on　top　of　the　leggings　he　had　just　taken　off；　and　she　saw　the　starting　point　of　the　thread　of　blood　that　had　already　stopped　flowing　out　of　his　right　ear。　They　found　no　wound　on　his　body　nor　could　they　locate　the　weapon。　Nor　was　it　possible　to　remove　the　smell　of　powder　from　the　corpse。　First　they　washed　him　three　times　with　soap　and　a　scrubbing　brush；　and　they　rubbed　him　with　salt　and　vinegar；　then　with　ashes　and　lemon；　and　finally　they　put　him　in　a　barrel　of　lye　and　let　him　stay　for　six　hours。　They　scrubbed　him　so　much　that　the　arabesques　of　his　tattooing　began　to　fade。　When　they　thought　of　the　desperate　measure　of　seasoning　him　with　pepper；　cumin　seeds；　and　laurel　leaves　and　boiling　him　for　a　whole　day　over　a　slow　fire；　he　had　already　begun　to　depose　and　they　had　to　bury　him　hastily。　They　sealed　him　hermetically　in　a　special　coffin　seven　and　a　half　feet　long　and　four　feet　wide；　reinforced　inside　with　iron　plates　and　fastened　together　with　steel　bolts；　and　even　then　the　smell　could　be　perceived　on　the　streets　through　which　the　funeral　procession　passed。　Father　Nicanor；　with　his　liver　enlarged　and　tight　as　a　drum；　gave　him　his　blessing　from　bed。　Although　in　the　months　that　followed　they　reinforced　the　grave　with　walls　about　it；　between　which　they　threw　pressed　ash；　sawdust；　and　quicklime；　the　cemetery　still　smelled　of　powder　for　many　years　after；　until　the　engineers　from　the　banana　pany　covered　the　grave　over　with　a　shell　of　concrete。　As　soon　as　they　took　the　body　out；　Rebeca　closed　the　doors　of　her　house　and　buried　herself　alive；　covered　with　a　thick　crust　of　disdain　that　no　earthly　temptation　was　ever　able　to　break。　She　went　out　into　the　street　on　one　occasion；　when　she　was　very　old；　with　shoes　the　color　of　old　silver　and　a　hat　made　of　tiny　flowers；　during　the　time　that　the　Wandering　Jew　passed　through　town　and　brought　on　a　heat　wave　that　was　so　intense　that　birds　broke　through　window　screens　to　e　to　die　in　the　bedrooms。　The　last　time　anyone　saw　her　alive　was　when　with　one　shot　she　killed　a　thief　who　was　trying　to　force　the　door　of　her　house。　Except　for　Argénida；　her　servant　and　confidante；　no　one　ever　had　any　more　contact　with　her　after　that。　At　one　time　it　was　discovered　that　she　was　writing　letters　to　the　Bishop；　whom　she　claimed　as　a　first　cousin。　but　it　was　never　said　whether　she　received　any　reply。　The　town　fot　about　her。
　　　In　spite　of　his　triumphal　return；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　not　enthusiastic　over　the　looks　of　things。　The　government　troops　abandoned　their　positions　without　resistance　and　that　aroused　an　illusion　of　victory　among　the　Liberal　population　that　it　was　not　right　to　destroy；　but　the　revolutionaries　knew　the　truth；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　better　than　any　of　them。　Although　at　that　moment　he　had　more　than　five　thousand　men　under　his　mand　and　held　two　coastal　states；　he　had　the　feeling　of　being　hemmed　in　against　the　sea　and　caught　in　a　situation　that　was　so　confused　that　when　he　ordered　the　restoration　of　the　church　steeple；　which　had　been　knocked　down　by　army　cannon　fire；　Father　Nicanor　mented　from　his　sickbed：　“This　is　silly；　the　defenders　of　the　faith　of　Christ　destroy　the　church　and　the　Masons　order　it　rebuilt。？Looking　for　a　loophole　through　which　he　could　escape；　he　spent　hours　on　end　in　the　telegraph　office　conferring　with　the　manders　of　other　towns；　and　every　time　he　would　emerge　with　the　firmest　impression　that　the　war　was　at　a　stalemate。　When　news　of　fresh　liberal　victories　was　received　it　was　celebrated　with　jubilant　proclamations；　but　he　would　measure　the　real　extent　of　them　on　the　map　and　could　see　that　his　forces　were　penetrating　into　the　jungle；　defending　themselves　against　malaria　and　mosquitoes；　advancing　in　the　opposite　direction　from　reality。　“We’re　wasting　time；？he　would　plain　to　his　officers。　“We’re　wasting　time　while　the　bastards　in　the　party　are　begging　for　seats　in　congress。？Lying　awake　at　night；　stretched　out　on　his　back　in　a　hammock　in　the　same　room　where　he　had　awaited　death；　he　would　evoke　the　image　of　lawyers　dressed　in　black　leaving　the　presidential　palace　in　the　icy　cold　of　early　morning　with　their　coat　collars　turned　up　about　their　ears；　rubbing　their　hands；　whispering；　taking　refuge　in　dreary　earlymorning　cafés　to　speculate　over　what　the　president　had　meant　when　he　said　yes；　or　what　he　had　meant　when　he　said　no；　and　even　to　imagine　what　the　president　was　thinking　when　he　said　something　quite　different；　as　he　chased　away　mosquitoes　at　a　temperature　of　ninetyfive　degrees；　feeling　the　approach　of　the　fearsome　dawn　when　he　would　have　to　give　his　men　the　mand　to　jump　into　the　sea。
　　　One　night　of　uncertainty；　when　Pilar　Ternera　was　singing　in　the　courtyard　with　the　soldiers；　he　asked　her　to　read　the　future　in　her　cards。　“Watch　out　for　your　mouth；？was　all　that　Pilar　Ternera　brought　out　after　spreading　and　picking　up　the　cards　three　times。　“I　don’t　know　what　it　means；　but　the　sign　is　very　clear。　Watch　out　for　your　mouth。？Two　days　later　someone　gave　an　orderly　a　mug　of　black　coffee　and　the　orderly　passed　it　on　to　someone　else　and　that　one　to　someone　else　until；　hand　to　hand；　it　reached　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　office。　He　had　not　asked　for　any　coffee；　but　since　it　was　there　the　colonel　drank　it。　It　had　a　dose　of　nux　vomica　strong　enough　to　kill　a　horse。　When　they　took　him　home　he　was　stiff　and　arched　and　his　tongue　was　sticking　out　between　his　teeth。　？rsula　fought　against　death　over　him。　After　cleaning　out　his　stomach　with　emetics；　she　wrapped　him　in　hot　blankets　and　fed　him　egg　whites　for　two　days　until　his　harrowed　body　recovered　its　normal　temperature。　On　the　fourth　day　he　was　out　of　danger。　Against　his　will；　pressured　by　？rsula　and　his　officers；　he　stayed　in　bed　for　another　week。　Only　then　did　he　learn　that　his　verses　had　not　been　burned。　“I　didn’t　want　to　be　hasty；？？rsula　explained　to　him。　“That　night　when　I　went　to　light　the　oven　I　said　to　myself　that　it　would　be　better　to　wait　until　they　brought　the　body。？In　the　haze　of　convalescence；　surrounded　by　Remedios？dusty　dolls；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　brought　back　the　decisive　periods　of　his　existence　by　reading　his　poetry。　He　started　writing　again。　For　many　hours；　balancing　on　the　edge　of　the　surprises　of　a　war　with　no　future；　in　rhymed　verse　he　resolved　his　experience　on　the　shores　of　death。　Then　his　thoughts　became　so　clear　that　he　was　able　to　examine　them　forward　and　backward。　One　night　he　asked　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez：
　　　“Tell　me　something；　old　friend：　why　are　you　fighting？？
　　　“What　other　reason　could　there　be？？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　answered。　“For　the　great　liberal　party。？
　　　“You’re　lucky　because　you　know　why；？he　answered。　“As　far　as　I’m　concerned；　I’ve　e　to　realize　only　just　now　that　I’m　fighting　because　of　pride。？
　　　“That’s　bad；？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　said。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　amused　at　his　alarm。　“Naturally；？he　said。　“But　in　any　case；　it’s　better　than　not　knowing　why　you’re　fighting。？He　looked　him　in　the　eyes　and　added　with　a　smile：
　　　“Or　fighting；　like　you；　for　something　that　doesn’t　have　any　meaning　for　anyone。？
　　　His　pride　had　prevented　him　from　making　contact　with　the　armed　groups　in　the　interior　of　the　country　until　the　leaders　of　the　party　publicly　rectified　their　declaration　that　he　was　a　bandit。　He　knew；　however；　that　as　soon　as　he　put　those　scruples　aside　he　would　break　the　vicious　circle　of　the　war。　Convalescence　gave　him　time　to　reflect。　Then　he　succeeded　in　getting　？rsula　to　give　him　the　rest　of　her　buried　inheritance　and　her　substantial　savings。　He　named　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　civil　and　military　leader　of　Macondo　and　he　went　off　to　make　contact　with　the　rebel　groups　in　the　interior。
　　　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　was　not　only　the　man　closest　to　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　but　？rsula　received　him　as　a　member　of　the　family。　Fragile；　timid；　with　natural　good　manners；　he　was；　however；　better　suited　for　war　than　for　government。　His　political　advisers　easily　entangled　him　in　theoretical　labyrinths；　But　he　succeeded　in　giving　Macondo　the　atmosphere　of　rural　peace　that　Colonel　Aureliano；　Buendía　dreamed　of　so　that　he　could　die　of　old　age　making　little　gold　fishes。　Although　he　lived　in　his　parents？house　he　would　have　lunch　at　？rsula’s　two　or　three　times　a　week。　He　initiated　Aureliano　Jos？in　the　use　of　firearms；　gave　him　early　military　instruction；　and　for　several　months　took　him　to　live　in　the　barracks；　with　？rsula’s　consent；　so　that　he　could　bee　a　man。　Many　years　before；　when　he　was　still　almost　a　child；　Gerineldo　Márquez　had　declared　his　love　for　Amaranta。　At　that　time　she　was　so　illusioned　with　her　lonely　passion　for　Pietro　Crespi　that　she　laughed　at　him。　Gerineldo　Márquez　waited。　On　a　certain　occasion　he　sent　Amaranta　a　note　from　jail　asking　her　to　embroider　a　dozen　batiste　handkerchiefs　with　his　father’s　initials　on　them。　He　sent　her　the　money。　A　week　later　Amaranta；　brought　the　dozen　handkerchiefs　to　him　in　jail　along　with　the　money　and　they　spent　several　hours　talking　about　the　past。　“When　I　get　out　of　here　I’m　going　to　marry　you；？Gerineldo　Márquez　told　her　when　she　left。　Amaranta　laughed　but　she　kept　on　thinking　about　him　while　she　taught　the　children　to　read　and　she　tried　to　revive　her　juvenile　passion　for　Pietro　Crespi。　On　Saturday；　visiting　days　for　the　prisoners；　she　would　stop　by　the　house　of　Gerineldo　Márquez’s　parents　and　acpany　them　to　the　jail。　On　one　of　those　Saturdays　？rsula　was　surprised　to　see　her　in　the　kitchen；　waiting　for　the　biscuits　to　e　out　of　the　oven　so　that　she　could　pick　the　best　ones　and　cap　them　in　a　napkin　that　she　had　embroidered　for　the　occasion。
　　　“Marry　him；？she　told　her。　“You’ll　have　a　hard　time　finding　another　man　like　him。？
　　　Amaranta　feigned　a　reaction　of　displeasure。
　　　“I　don’t　have　to　go　around　hunting　for　men；？she　answered。　“I’m　taking　these　biscuits　to　Gerineldo　because　I’m　sorry　that　sooner　or　later　they’re　going　to　shoot　him。？
　　　She　said　it　without　thinking；　but　that　was　the　time　that　the　government　had　announced　its　threat　to　shoot　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　if　the　rebel　forces　did　not　surrender　Riohacha。　The　visits　stopped。　Amaranta　shut　herself　up　to　weep；　overwhelmed　by　a　feeling　of　guilt　similar　to　the　one　that　had　tormented　her　when　Remedios　died；　as　if　once　more　her　careless　words　had　been　responsible　for　a　death。　Her　mother　consoled　her。　She　inured　her　that　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　would　do　something　to　prevent　the　execution　and　promised　that　she　would　take　charge　of　attracting　Gerineldo　Márquez　herself　when　the　war　was　over。　She　fulfilled　her　promise　before　the　imagined　time。　When　Gerineldo　Márquez　returned　to　the　house；　invested　with　his　new　dignity　of　civil　and　military　leader；　she　received　him　as　a　son；　thought　of　delightful　bits　of　flattery　to　hold　him　there；　and　prayed　with　all　her　soul　that　he　would　remember　his　plan　to　marry　Amaranta。　Her　pleas　seemed　to　be　answered。　On　the　days　that　he　would　have　lunch　at　the　house；　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　would　linger　on　the　begonia　porch　playing　Chinese　checkers　with　Amaranta。　？rsula　would　bring　them　coffee　and　milk　and　biscuits　and　would　take　over　the　children　so　that　they　would　not　bother　them。　Amaranta　was　really　making　an　effort　to　kindle　in　her　heart　the　fotten　ashes　of　her　youthful　passion。　With　an　anxiety　that　came　to　be　intolerable；　she　waited　for　the　lunch　days；　the　afternoons　of　Chinese　checkers；　and　time　flew　by　in　the　pany　of　the　warrior　with　a　nostalgic　name　whose　fingers　trembled　imperceptibly　as　he　moved　the　pieces。　But　the　day　on　which　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　repeated　his　wish　to　marry　her；　she　rejected　him。
　　　“I’m　not　going　to　marry　anyone；？she　told　him；　“much　less　you。　You　love　Aureliano　so　much　that　you　want　to　marry　me　because　you　can’t　marry　him。？
　　　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　was　a　patient　man。　“I’ll　keep　on　insisting；？he　said。　“Sooner　or　later　I’ll　convince　you。？He　kept　on　visiting　the　house。　Shut　up　in　her　bedroom　biting　back　her　secret　tears；　Amaranta　put　her　fingers　in　her　ears　so　as　not　to　bear　the　voice　of　the　suitor　as　he　gave　？rsula　the　latest　war　news；　and　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　she　was　dying　to　see　him　she　had　the　strength　not　to　go　out　and　meet　him。
　　　At　that　time　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　took　the　time　to　send　a　detailed　account　to　Macondo　every　two　weeks。　But　only　once；　almost　eight　months　after　he　had　left；　did　he　write　to　？rsula。　A　special　messenger　brought　a　sealed　envelope　to　the　house　with　a　sheet　of　paper　inside　bearing　the　colonel’s　delicate　hand：　Take　good　care　of　Papa　because　he　is　going　to　die。　？rsula　became　alarmed。　“If　Aureliano　says　so　it’s　because　Aureliano　knows；？she　said。　And　she　had　them　help　her　take　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　to　his　bedroom。　Not　only　was　he　as　heavy　as　ever；　but　during　his　prolonged　stay　under　the　chestnut　tree　he　had　developed　the　faculty　of　being　able　to　increase　his　weight　at　will；　to　such　a　degree　that　seven　men　were　unable　to　lift　him　and　they　had　to　drag　him　to　the　bed。　A　smell　of　tender　mushrooms；　of　woodflower　fungus；　of　old　and　concentrated　outdoors　impregnated　the　air　of　the　bedroom　as　it　was　breathed　by　the　colossal　old　man　weatherbeaten　by　the　sun　and　the　rain。　The　next　morning　he　was　not　in　his　bed。　In　spite　of　his　undiminished　strength；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　in　no　condition　to　resist。　It　was　all　the　same　to　him。　If　he　went　back　to　the　chestnut　tree　it　was　not　because　he　wanted　to　but　because　of　a　habit　of　his　body。　？rsula　took　care　of　him；　fed　him；　brought　him　news　of　Aureliano。　But　actually；　the　only　person　with　whom　he　was　able　to　have　contact　for　a　long　time　was　Prudencio　Aguilar。　Almost　pulverized　at　that　time　by　the　decrepitude　of　death；　Prudencio　Aguilar　would　e　twice　a　day　to　chat　with　him。　They　talked　about　fighting　cocks。　They　promised　each　other　to　set　up　a　breeding　farm　for　magnificent　birds；　not　so　much　to　enjoy　their　victories；　which　they　would　not　need　then；　as　to　have　something　to　do　on　the　tedious　Sundays　of　death。　It　was　Prudencio　Aguilar　who　cleaned　him　fed　him　and　brought　him　splendid　news　of　an　unknown　person　called　Aureliano　who　was　a　colonel　in　the　war。　When　he　was　alone；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　consoled　himself　with　the　dream　of　the　infini