百年孤独(英文版)-第22部分

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　　　It　was　perhaps　the　most　critical　moment　of　the　war。　The　Liberal　landowners；　who　had　supported　the　revolution　in　the　beginning；　had　made　secret　alliances　with　the　Conservative　landowners　in　order　to　stop　the　revision　of　property　titles。　The　politicians　who　supplied　funds　for　the　war　from　exile　had　Publicly　repudiated　the　drastic　aims　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　but　even　that　withdrawal　of　authorization　did　not　seem　to　bother　him。　He　had　not　returned　to　reading　his　poetry；　which　filled　more　than　five　volumes　and　lay　fotten　at　the　bottom　of　his　trunk。　At　night　or　at　siesta　time　he　would　call　one　of　his　women　to　his　hammock　and　obtain　a　rudimentary　satisfaction　from　her；　and　then　he　would　sleep　like　a　stone　that　was　not　concerned　by　the　slightest　indication　of　worry。　Only　he　knew　at　that　time　that　his　confused　heart　was　condemned　to　uncertainty　forever。　At　first；　intoxicated　by　the　glory　of　his　return；　by　his　remarkable　victories；　he　had　peeped　into　the　abyss　of　greatness。　He　took　pleasure　in　keeping　by　his　right　hand　the　Duke　of　Marlborough；　his　great　teacher　in　the　art　of　war；　whose　attire　of　skins　and　tiger　claws　aroused　the　respect　of　adults　and　the　awe　of　children。　It　was　then　that　he　decided　that　no　human　being；　not　even　？rsula；　could　e　closer　to　him　than　ten　feet。　In　the　center　of　the　chalk　circle　that　his　aides　would　draw　wherever　he　stopped；　and　which　only　he　could　enter；　he　would　decide　with　brief　orders　that　had　no　appeal　the　fate　of　the　world。　The　first　time　that　he　was　in　Manaure　after　the　shooting　of　General　Moncada；　he　hastened　to　fulfill　his　victim’s　last　wish　and　the　widow　took　the　glasses；　the　medal；　the　watch；　and　the　ring；　but　she　would　not　let　him　in　the　door。
　　　“You　can’t　e　in；　colonel；？she　told　him。　“You　may　be　in　mand　of　your　war；　but　I’m　in　mand　of　my　house。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　did　not　show　any　sign　of　anger；　but　his　spirit　only　calmed　down　when　his　bodyguard　had　sacked　the　widow’s　house　and　reduced　it　to　ashes。　“Watch　out　for　your　heart；　Aureliano；？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　would　say　to　him　then。　“You’re　rotting　alive。？About　that　time　he　called　together　a　second　assembly　of　the　principal　rebel　manders。　He　found　all　types：　idealists；　ambitious　people；　adventurers；　those　with　social　resentments；　even　mon　criminals。　There　was　even　a　former　Conservative　functionary　who　had　taken　refuge　in　the　revolt　to　escape　a　judgment　for　misappropriation　of　funds。　Many　of　them　did　not　even　know　why　they　were　fighting　in　the　midst　of　that　motley　crowd；　whose　differences　of　values　were　on　the　verge　of　causing　an　internal　explosion；　one　gloomy　authority　stood　out：　General　Te6filo　Vargas。　He　was　a　fullblooded　Indian；　untamed；　illiterate；　and　endowed　with　quiet　wiles　and　a　messianic　vocation　that　aroused　a　demented　fanaticism　in　his　men。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　called　the　meeting　with　the　aim　of　unifying　the　rebel　mand　against　the　maneuvers　of　the　politicians。　General　Teófilo　Vargas　came　forward　with　his　intentions：　in　a　few　hours　he　shattered　the　coalition　of　betterqualified　manders　and　took　charge　of　the　main　mand。　“He’s　a　wild　beast　worth　watching；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　told　his　officers。　“That　man　is　more　dangerous　to　us　than　the　Minister　of　War。？Then　a　very　young　captain　who　had　always　been　outstanding　for　his　timidity　raised　a　cautious　index　finger。
　　　“It’s　quite　simple；　colonel；？he　proposed。　“He　has　to　be　killed。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　not　alarmed　by　the　coldness　of　the　proposition　but　by　the　way　in　which；　by　a　fraction　of　a　second；　it　had　anticipated　his　own　thoughts。
　　　“Don’t　expect　me　to　give　an　order　like　that；？he　said。
　　　He　did　not　give　it；　as　a　matter　of　fact。　But　two　weeks　later　General　Teófilo　Vargas　was　cut　to　bits　by　machetes　in　an　ambush　and　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　assumed　the　main　mand。　The　same　night　that　his　authority　was　recognized　by　all　the　rebel　mands；　he　woke　up　in　a　fright；　calling　for　a　blanket。　An　inner　coldness　which　shattered　his　bones　and　tortured　him　even　in　the　heat　of　the　sun　would　not　let　him　sleep　for　several　months；　until　it　became　a　habit。　The　intoxication　of　power　began　to　break　apart　under　waves　of　disfort。　Searching　for　a　cure　against　the　chill；　he　had　the　young　officer　who　had　proposed　the　murder　of　General　Teófilo　Vargas　shot。　His　orders　were　being　carried　out　even　before　they　were　given；　even　before　he　thought　of　them；　and　they　always　went　much　beyond　what　he　would　have　dared　have　them　do。　Lost　in　the　solitude　of　his　immense　power；　he　began　to　lose　direction。　He　was　bothered　by　the　people　who　cheered　him　in　neighboring　villages；　and　he　imagined　that　they　were　the　same　cheers　they　gave　the　enemy。　Everywhere　he　met　adolescents　who　looked　at　him　with　his　own　eyes；　who　spoke　to　him　with　his　own　voice；　who　greeted　him　with　the　same　mistrust　with　which　he　greeted　them；　and　who　said　they　were　his　sons。　He　felt　scattered　about；　multiplied；　and　more　solitary　than　ever。　He　was　convinced　that　his　own　officers　were　lying　to　him。　He　fought　with　the　Duke　of　Marlborough。　“The　best　friend　a　person　has；？he　would　say　at　that　time；　“is　one　who　has　just　died。？He　was　weary　of　the　uncertainty；　of　the　vicious　circle　of　that　eternal　war　that　always　found　him　in　the　same　place；　but　always　older；　wearier；　even　more　in　the　position　of　not　knowing　why；　or　how；　or　even　when。　There　was　always　someone　outside　of　the　chalk　circle。　Someone　who　needed　money；　someone　who　had　a　son　with　whooping　cough；　or　someone　who　wanted　to　go　off　and　sleep　forever　because　he　could　not　stand　the　shit　taste　of　the　war　in　his　mouth　and　who；　nevertheless；　stood　at　attention　to　inform　him：　“Everything　normal；　colonel。？And　normality　was　precisely　the　most　fearful　part　of　that　infinite　war：　nothing　ever　happened。　Alone；　abandoned　by　his　premonitions；　fleeing　the　chill　that　was　to　acpany　him　until　death；　he　sought　a　last　refuge　in　Macondo　in　the　warmth　of　his　oldest　memories。　His　indolence　was　so　serious　that　when　they　announced　the　arrival　of　a　mission　from　his　party　that　was　authorized　to　discuss　the　stalemate　of　the　war；　he　rolled　over　in　his　hammock　without　pletely　waking　up。
　　　“Take　them　to　the　whores；？he　said。
　　　They　were　six　lawyers　in　frock　coats　and　top　hats　who　endured　the　violent　November　sun　with　stiff　stoicism。　？rsula　put　them　up　in　her　house。　They　spent　the　greater　part　of　the　day　closeted　in　the　bedroom　in　hermetic　conferences　and　at　dusk　they　asked　for　an　escort　and　some　accordion　players　and　took　over　Catarino’s　store。　“Leave　them　alone；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　ordered。　“After　all；　I　know　what　they　want。？At　the　beginning　of　December　the　longawaited　interview；　which　many　had　foreseen　as　an　interminable　argument；　was　resolved　in　less　than　an　hour。
　　　In　the　hot　parlor；　beside　the　specter　of　the　pianola　shrouded　in　a　white　sheet；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　did　not　sit　down　that　time　inside　the　chalk　circle　that　his　aides　had　drawn。　He　sat　in　a　chair　between　his　political　advisers　and；　wrapped　in　his　woolen　blanket；　he　listened　in　silence　to　the　brief　proposals　of　the　emissaries。　They　asked　first　that　he　renounce　the　revision　of　property　titles　in　order　to　get　back　the　support　of　the　Liberal　landowners。　They　asked；　secondly；　that　he　renounce　the　fight　against　clerical　influence　in　order　to　obtain　the　support　of　the　Catholic　masses。　They　asked；　finally；　that　he　renounce　the　aim　of　equal　rights　for　natural　and　illegitimate　children　in　order　to　preserve　the　integrity　of　the　home。
　　　“That　means；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　said；　smiling　when　the　reading　was　over；　“that　all　we’re　fighting　for　is　power。？
　　　“They’re　tactical　changes；？one　of　the　delegates　replied。　“Right　now　the　main　thing　is　to　broaden　the　popular　base　of　the　war。　Then　we’ll　have　another　look。？
　　　One　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　political　advisers　hastened　to　intervene。
　　　“It’s　a　contradiction？he　said。　“If　these　changes　are　good；　it　means　that　the　Conservative　regime　is　good。　If　we　succeed　in　broadening　the　popular　base　of　the　war　with　them；　as　you　people　say；　it　means　that　the　regime　his　a　broad　popular　base。　It　means；　in　short；　that　for　almost　twenty　years　we’ve　been　fighting　against　the　sentiments　of　the　nation。？
　　　He　was　going　to　go　on；　but　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　stopped　him　with　a　signal。　“Don’t　waste　your　time；　doctor。？he　said。　“The　important　thing　is　that　from　now　on　we’ll　be　fighting　only　for　power。？Still　smiling；　he　took　the　documents　the　delegates　gave　him　and　made　ready　to　sign　them。
　　　“Since　that’s　the　way　it　is；？he　concluded；　“we　have　no　objection　to　accepting。？
　　　His　men　looked　at　one　another　in　consternation。　“Excuse　me；　colonel；？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　said　softly；　“but　this　is　a　betrayal。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　held　the　inked　pen　in　the　air　and　discharged　the　whole　weight　of　his　authority　on　him。
　　　“Surrender　your　weapons；？he　ordered。
　　　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　stood　up　and　put　his　sidearms　on　the　table。
　　　“Report　to　the　barracks；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　ordered　him。　“Put　yourself　at　the　disposition　of　the　revolutionary　court。？
　　　Then　he　signed　the　declaration　and　gave　the　sheets　of　paper　to　the　emissaries；　saying　to　them：
　　　“Here　an　your　papers；　gentlemen。　I　hope　you　can　get　some　advantage　out　of　them。？
　　　Two　days　later；　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　accused　of　high　treason；　was　condemned　to　death。　Lying　in　his　hammock；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　insensible　to　the　pleas　for　clemency。　On　the　eve　of　the　execution；　disobeying　the　order　not　to　bother　him；　？rsula　visited　him　in　his　bedroom。　Encased　in　black；　invested　with　a　rare　solemnity；　she　stood　during　the　three　minutes　of　the　interview。　“I　know　that　you’re　going　to　shoot　Gerineldo；？she　said　calmly；　“and　that　I　can’t　do　anything　to　stop　it。　But　I　give　you　one　warning：　as　soon　as　I　see　his　body　I　swear　to　you　by　the　bones　of　my　father　and　mother；　by　the　memory　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　I　swear　to　you　before　God　that　I　will　drag　you　out　from　wherever　you’re　hiding　and　kill　you　with　my　own　two　hands。？Before　leaving　the　room；　without　waiting　for　any　reply；　she　concluded：
　　　“It’s　the　same　as　if　you’d　been　born　with　the　tail　of　a　pig。？
　　　During　that　interminable　night　while　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　thought　about　his　dead　afternoons　in　Amaranta’s　sewing　room；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　scratched　for　many　hours　trying　to　break　the　hard　shell　of　his　solitude。　His　only　happy　moments；　since　that　remote　afternoon　when　his　father　had　taken　him　to　see　ice；　had　taken　place　in　his　silver　workshop　where　he　passed　the　time　putting　little　gold　fishes　together。　He　had　had　to　start　thirtytwo　wars　and　had　had　to　violate　all　of　his　pacts　with　death　and　wallow　like　a　hog　in　the　dungheap　of　glory　in　order　to　discover　the　privileges　of　simplicity　almost　forty　years　late。
　　　At　dawn；　worn　out　by　the　tormented　vigil；　he　appeared　in　the　cell　an　hour　before　the　execution。　“The　farce　is　over；　old　friend；？he　said　to　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez。　“Let’s　get　out　of　here　before　the　mosquitoes　in　here　execute　you。？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　could　not　repress　the　disdain　that　was　inspired　in　him　by　that　attitude。
　　　“No；　Aureliano；？he　replied。　“I’d　rather　be　dead　than　see　you　changed　into　a　bloody　tyrant。？
　　　“You　won’t　see　me；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　said。　“Put　on　your　shoes　and　help　me　get　this　shitty　war　over　with。？
　　　When　he　said　it　he　did　not　know　that　it　was　easier　to　start　a　war　than　to　end　one。　It　took　him　almost　a　year　of　fierce　and　bloody　effort　to　force　the　government　to　propose　conditions　of　peace　favorable　to　the　rebels　and　another　year　to　convince　his　own　partisans　of　the　convenience　of　accepting　them。　He　went　to　inconceivable　extremes　of　cruelty　to　put　down　the　rebellion　of　his　own　officers；　who　resisted　and　called　for　victory；　and　he　finally　relied　on　enemy　forces　to　make　them　submit。
　　　He　was　never　a　greater　soldier　than　at　that　time。　The　certainty　that　he　was　finally　fighting　for　his　own　liberation　and　not　for　abstract　ideals；　for　slogans　that　politicians　could　twist　left　and　right　according　to　the　circumstances；　filled　him　with　an　ardent　enthusiasm。　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　who　fought　for　defeat　with　as　much　conviction　and　loyalty　as　he　had　previously　fought　for　victory；　reproached　him　for　his　useless　temerity。　“Don’t　worry；？he　would　say；　smiling。　“Dying　is　much　more　difficult　than　one　imagines。？In　his　case　it　was　true。　The　certainty　that　his　day　was　assigned　gave　him　a　mysterious　immunity；　an　immortality　or　a　fixed　period　that　made　him　invulnerable　to　the　risks　of　war　and　in　the　end　permitted　him　to　win　a　defeat　that　was　much　more　difficult；　much　more　bloody　and　costly　than　victory。
　　　In　almost　twenty　years　of　war；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　been　at　his　house　many　times；　but　the　state　of　urgency　with　which　he　always　arrived；　the　military　retinue　that　acpanied　him　everywhere；　the　aura　of　legend　that　glowed　about　his　presence　and　of　which　even　？rsula　was　aware；　changed　him　into　a　stranger　in　the　end。　The　last　time　that　he　was　in　Macondo　and　took　a　house　for　his　three　concubines；　he　was　seen　in　his　own　house　only　on　two　or　three　occasions　when　he　had　the　time　to　accept　an　invitation　to　dine。　Remedios　the　Beauty　and　the　twins；　born　during　the　middle　of　the　war；　scarcely　knew　him。　Amaranta　could　not　reconcile　her　image　of　the　brother　who　had　spent　his　adolescence　making　little　gold　fishes　with　that　of　the　mythical　warrior　who　had　placed　a　distance　of　ten　feet　between　himself　and　the　rest　of　humanity。　But　when　the　approach　of　the　armistice　became　known　and　they　thought　that　he　would　return　changed　back　into　a　human　being；　delivered　at　last　for　the　hearts　of　his　own　people；　the　family　feelings；　dormant　for　such　a　long　time；　were　reborn　stronger　than　ever。
　　　“We’ll　finally　have　a　man　in　the　house　again；？？rsula　said。
　　　Amaranta　was　the　first　to　suspect　that　they　had　lost　him　forever。　One　week　before　the　armistice；　when　he　entered　the　house　without　an　escort；　preceded　by　two　barefoot　orderlies　who　deposited　on　the　porch　the　saddle　from　the　mule　and　the　trunk　of　poetry；　all　that　was　left　of　his　former　imperial　baggage；　she　saw　him　pass　by　the　sewing　room　and　she　called　to　him。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　trouble　recognizing　her。
　　　“It’s　Amaranta；？she　said　goodhumoredly；　happy　at　his　return；　and　she　showed　him　the　hand　with　the　black　bandage。　“Look。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　smiled　at　her　the　same　way　as　when　he　had　first　seen　her　with　the　bandage　on　that　remote　morning　when　he　had　e　back　to　Macondo　condemned　to　death。
　　　“How　awful；？he　said；　“the　way　time　passes！？
　　　The　regular　army　had　to　protect　the　house。　He　arrived　amid　insults；　spat　upon；　accused　of　having　accelerated　the　war　in　order　to　sell　it　for　a　better　price。　He　was　trembling　with　fever　and　cold　and　his　armpits　were　studded　with　sores　again。　Six　months　before；　when　she　had　heard　talk　about　the　armistice；　？rsula　had　opened　up　and　swept　out　the　bridal　chamber　and　had　burned　myrrh　in　the　corners；　thinking　that　he　would　e　back　ready　to　grow　old　slowly　among　Remedios？musty　dolls。　But　actually；　during　the　last　two　years　he　had　paid　his　final　dues　to　life；　including　growing　old。　When　he　passed　by　the　silver　shop；　which　？rsula　had　prepared　with　special　diligence；　he　did　not　even　notice　that　the　keys　were　in　the　lock。　He　did　not　notice　the　minute；　tearing　destruction　that　time　had　wrea