百年孤独(英文版)-第32部分

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asewiththeproperattention；　the　war　hopelessly　lost　against　the　many　yoursmosttrulys　who　should　have　signed　and　would　never　sign　the　lifetime　pensions。　The　other　war；　the　bloody　one　of　twenty　years；　did　not　cause　them　as　much　damage　as　the　corrosive　war　of　eternal　postponements。　Even　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　who　escaped　three　attempts　on　his　life；　survived　five　wounds；　and　emerged　unscathed　from　innumerable　battles；　succumbed　to　that　atrocious　siege　of　waiting　and　sank　into　the　miserable　defeat　of　old　age；　thinking　of　Amaranta　among　the　diamondshaped　patches　of　light　in　a　borrowed　house。　The　last　veterans　of　whom　he　had　word　had　appeared　photographed　in　a　newspaper　with　their　faces　shamelessly　raised　beside　an　anonymous　president　of　the　republic　who　gave　them　buttons　with　his　likeness　on　them　to　wear　in　their　lapels　and　returned　to　them　a　flag　soiled　with　blood　and　gunpowder　so　that　they　could　place　it　on　their　coffins。　The　others；　more　honorable。　were　still　waiting　for　a　letter　in　the　shadow　of　public　charity；　dying　of　hunger；　living　through　rage；　ratting　of　old　age　amid　the　exquisite　shit　of　glory。　So　that　when　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　invited　him　to　start　a　mortal　conflagration　that　would　wipe　out　all　vestiges　of　a　regime　of　corruption　and　scandal　backed　by　the　foreign　invader；　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　could　not　hold　back　a　shudder　of　passion。
　　　“Oh；　Aureliano；？he　sighed。　“I　already　knew　that　you　were　old；　but　now　I　realize　that　you’re　a　lot　older　than　you　look。？

Chapter　13
IN　THE　BEWILDERMENT　of　her　last　years；　？rsula　had　had　very　little　free　time　to　attend　to　the　papal　education　of　Jos？Arcadio；　and　the　time　came　for　him　to　get　ready　to　leave　for　the　seminary　right　away。　Meme；　his　sister；　dividing　her　time　between　Fernanda’s　rigidity　and　Amaranta’s　bitterness；　at　almost　the　same　moment　reached　the　age　set　for　her　to　be　sent　to　the　nuns？school；　where　they　would　make　a　virtuoso　on　the　clavichord　of　her。　？rsula　felt　tormented　by　grave　doubts　concerning　the　effectiveness　of　the　methods　with　which　she　had　molded　the　spirit　of　the　languid　apprentice　Supreme　Pontiff；　but　she　did　not　put　the　blame　on　her　staggering　old　age　or　the　dark　clouds　that　barely　permitted　her　to　make　out　the　shape　of　things；　but　on　something　that　she　herself　could　not　really　define　and　that　she　conceived　confusedly　as　a　progressive　breakdown　of　time。　“The　years　nowadays　don’t　pass　the　way　the　old　ones　used　to；？she　would　say；　feeling　that　everyday　reality　was　slipping　through　her　hands。　In　the　past；　she　thought；　children　took　a　long　time　to　grow　up。　All　one　had　to　do　was　remember　all　the　time　needed　for　Jos？Arcadio；　the　elder；　to　go　away　with　the　gypsies　and　all　that　happened　before　he　came　back　painted　like　a　snake　and　talking　like　an　astronomer；　and　the　things　that　happened　in　the　house　before　Amaranta　and　Arcadio　fot　the　language　of　the　Indians　and　learned　Spanish。　One　had　to　see　only　the　days　of　sun　and　dew　that　poor　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　went　through　under　the　chestnut　tree　and　all　the　time　weeded　to　mourn　his　death　before　they　brought　in　a　dying　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　who　after　so　much　war　and　so　much　suffering　from　it　was　still　not　fifty　years　of　age。　In　other　times；　after　spending　the　whole　day　making　candy　animals；　she　had　more　than　enough　time　for　the　children；　to　see　from　the　whites　of　their　eyes　that　they　needed　a　dose　of　castor　oil。　Now；　however；　when　she　had　nothing　to　do　and　would　go　about　with　Jos？Arcadio　riding　on　her　hip　from　dawn　to　dusk；　this　bad　kind　of　time　pelled　her　to　leave　things　half　done。　The　truth　was　that　？rsula　resisted　growing　old　even　when　she　had　already　lost　count　of　her　age　and　she　was　a　bother　on　all　sides　as　she　tried　to　meddle　in　everything　and　as　she　annoyed　strangers　with　her　questions　as　to　whether　they　had　left　a　plaster　Saint　Joseph　to　be　kept　until　the　rains　were　over　during　the　days　of　the　war。　No　one　knew　exactly　when　she　had　begun　to　lose　her　sight。　Even　in　her　later　years；　when　she　could　no　longer　get　out　of　bed；　it　seemed　that　she　was　simply　defeated　by　decrepitude；　but　no　one　discovered　that　she　was　blind。　She　had　noticed　it　before　the　birth　of　Jos？Arcadio。　At　first　she　thought　it　was　a　matter　of　a　passing　debility　and　she　secretly　took　marrow　syrup　and　put　honey　on　her　eyes；　but　quite　soon　she　began　to　realize　that　she　was　irrevocably　sinking　into　the　darkness；　to　a　point　where　she　never　had　a　clear　notion　of　the　invention　of　the　electric　light；　for　when　they　put　in　the　first　bulbs　she　was　only　able　to　perceive　the　glow。　She　did　not　tell　anyone　about　it　because　it　would　have　been　a　public　recognition　of　her　uselessness。　She　concentrated　on　a　silent　schooling　in　the　distances　of　things　and　peoples　voices；　so　that　she　would　still　be　able　to　see　with　her　memory　what　the　shadows　of　her　cataracts　no　longer　allowed　her　to。　Later　on　she　was　to　discover　the　unforeseen　help　of　odors；　which　were　defined　in　the　shadows　with　a　strength　that　was　much　more　convincing　than　that　of　bulk　and　color；　and　which　saved　her　finally　from　the　shame　of　admitting　defeat。　In　the　darkness　of　the　room　she　was　able　to　thread　a　needle　and　sew　a　buttonhole　and　she　knew　when　the　milk　was　about　to　boil。　She　knew　with　so　much　certainty　the　location　of　everything　that　she　herself　fot　that　she　was　blind　at　times。　On　one　occasion　Fernanda　had　the　whole　house　upset　because　she　had　lost　her　wedding　ring；　and　？rsula　found　it　on　a　shelf　in　the　children’s　bedroom。　Quite　simply；　while　the　others　were　going　carelessly　all　about；　she　watched　them　with　her　four　senses　so　that　they　never　took　her　by　surprise；　and　after　some　time　she　discovered　that　every　member　of　the　family；　without　realizing　it；　repeated　the　same　path　every　day；　the　same　actions；　and　almost　repeated　the　same　words　at　the　same　hour。　Only　when　they　deviated　from　meticulous　routine　did　they　run　the　risk　of　losing　something。　So　when　she　heard　Fernanda　all　upset　be　cause　she　had　lost　her　ring；　？rsula　remembered　that　the　only　thing　different　that　she　had　done　that　day　was　to　put　the　mattresses　out　in　the　sun　because　Meme　had　found　a　bedbug　the　might　before。　Since　the　children　had　been　present　at　the　fumigation；　？rsula　figured　that　Fernanda　had　put　the　ring　in　the　only　place　where　they　could　not　reach　it：　the　shelf。　Fernanda；　on　the　other　hand；　looked　for　it　in　vain　along　the　paths　of　her　everyday　itinerary　without　knowing　that　the　search　for　lost　things　is　hindered　by　routine　habits　and　that　is　why　it　is　so　difficult　to　find　them。
　　　The　rearing　of　Jos？Arcadio　helped　？rsula　in　the　exhausting　task　of　keeping　herself　up　to　date　on　the　smallest　changes　in　the　house。　When　she　realized　that　Amaranta　was　dressing　the　saints　in　the　bedroom　she　pretended　to　show　the　boy　the　differences　in　the　colors。
　　　“Let’s　see；？she　would　tell　him。　“Tell　me　what　color　the　Archangel　Raphael　is　wearing。？
　　　In　that　way　the　child　gave　her　the　information　that　was　denied　her　by　her　eyes；　and　long　before　he　went　away　to　the　seminary　？rsula　could　already　distinguish　the　different　colors　of　the　saints？clothing　by　the　texture。　Sometimes　unforeseen　accidents　would　happen。　One　afternoon　when　Amaranta　was　‘embroidering　on　the　porch　with　the　begonias　？rsula　bumped　into　her。
　　　“For　heaven’s　sake；？Amaranta　protested。　“watch　where　you’re　going。？
　　　“It’s　your　fault；？？rsula　said。　“You’re　not　sitting　where　you’re　supposed　to。？
　　　She　was　sure　of　it。　But　that　day　she　began　to　realize　something　that　no　one　had　noticed　and　it　was　that　with　the　passage　of　the　year　the　sun　imperceptibly　changed　position　and　those　who　sat　on　the　porch　had　to　change　their　position　little　by　little　without　being　aware　of　it。　From　then　on　？rsula　had　only　to　remember　the　date　in　order　to　know　exactly　where　Amaranta　was　sitting。　Even　though　the　trembling　of　her　hands　was　more　and　more　noticeable　and　the　weight　of　her　feet　was　too　much　for　her；　her　small　figure　was　never　seen　in　so　many　places　at　the　same　time。　She　was　almost　as　diligent　as　when　she　had　the　whole　weight　of　the　house　on　her　shoulders。　Nevertheless；　in　the　impenetrable　solitude　of　decrepitude　she　had　such　clairvoyance　as　she　examined　the　most　insignificant　happenings　in　the　family　that　for　the　first　time　she　saw　clearly　the　truths　that　her　busy　life　in　former　times　had　prevented　her　from　seeing。　Around　the　time　they　were　preparing　Jos？Arcadio　for　the　seminary　she　had　already　made　a　detailed　recapitulation　of　life　in　the　house　since　the　founding　of　Macondo　and　had　pletely　changed　the　opinion　that　she　had　always　held　of　her　descendants。　She　realized　that　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　not　lost　his　love　for　the　family　because　he　had　been　hardened　by　the　war；　as　she　had　thought　before；　but　that　he　had　never　loved　anyone；　not　even　his　wife　Remedios　or　the　countless　onenight　women　who　had　passed　through　his　life；　and　much　less　his　sons。　She　sensed　that　he　had　fought　so　many　wars　not　out　of　idealism；　as　everyone　had　thought；　nor　had　he　renounced　a　certain　victory　because　of　fatigue；　as　everyone　had　thought；　but　that　he　had　won　and　lost　for　the　same　reason；　pure　and　sinful　pride。　She　reached　the　conclusion　that　the　son　for　whom　she　would　have　given　her　life　was　simply　a　man　incapable　of　love。　One　night　when　she　was　carrying　him　in　her　belly　she　heard　him　weeping。　It　was　such　a　definite　lament　that　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　woke　up　beside　her　and　was　happy　with　the　idea　that　his　son　was　going　to　be　a　ventriloquist。　Other　people　predicted　that　he　would　be　a　prophet。　She；　on　the　other　hand；　shuddered　from　the　certainty　that　the　deep　moan　was　a　first　indication　of　the　fearful　pig　tail　and　she　begged　God　to　let　the　child　die　in　her　womb。　But　the　lucidity　of　her　old　age　allowed　her　to　see；　and　she　said　so　many　times；　that　the　cries　of　children　in　their　mothers？wombs　are　not　announcements　of　ventriloquism　or　a　faculty　for　prophecy　but　an　unmistakable　sign　of　an　incapacity　for　love。　The　lowering　of　the　image　of　her　son　brought　out　in　her　all　at　once　all　the　passion　that　she　owed　him。　Amaranta；　however；　whose　hardness　of　heart　frightened　her；　whose　concentrated　bitterness　made　her　bitter；　suddenly　became　clear　to　her　in　the　final　analysis　as　the　most　tender　woman　who　had　ever　existed；　and　she　understood　with　pitying　clarity　that　the　unjust　tortures　to　which　she　had　submitted　Pietro　Crespi　had　not　been　dictated　by　a　desire　for　vengeance；　as　everyone　had　thought；　nor　had　the　slow　martyrdom　with　which　she　had　frustrated　the　life　of　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　been　determined　by　the　gall　of　her　bitterness；　as　everyone　had　thought；　but　that　both　actions　had　been　a　mortal　struggle　between　a　measureless　love　and　an　invincible　cowardice；　and　that　the　irrational　fear　that　Amaranta　had　always　had　of　her　own　tormented　heart　had　triumphed　in　the　end。　It　was　during　that　time　that　？rsula；　began　to　speak　Rebeca’s　name；　bringing　back　the　memory　of　her　with　an　old　love　that　was　exalted　by　tardy　repentance　and　a　sudden　admiration；　ing　to　understand　that　only　she；　Rebeca；　the　one　who　had　never　fed　of　her　milk　but　only　of　the　earth　of　the　land　and　the　whiteness　of　the　walls；　the　one　who　did　not　carry　the　blood　of　her　veins　in　hers　but　the　unknown　blood　of　the　strangers　whose　bones　were　still　clocing　in　their　grave。　Rebeca；　the　one　with　an　impatient　heart；　the　one　with　a　fierce　womb；　was　the　only　one　who　bad　the　unbridled　courage　that　？rsula　had　wanted　for　her　line。
　　　“Rebeca；？she　would　say；　feeling　along　the　walls；　“how　unfair　we’ve　been　to　you！？
　　　In　the　house　they　simply　thought　that　her　mind　was　wandering；　especially　since　the　time　she　had　begun　walking　about　with　her　right　arm　raised　like　the　Archangel　Gabriel。　Fernanda；　however；　realized　that　there　was　a　sun　of　clairvoyance　in　the　shadows　of　that　wandering；　for　？rsula　could　say　without　hesitation　how　much　money　had　been　spent　in　the　house　during　the　previous　year。　Amaranta　had　a　similar　idea　one　day　as　her　mother　was　stirring　a　pot　of　soup　in　the　kitchen　and　said　all　at　once　without　knowing　that　they　were　listening　to　her　that　the　corn　grinder　they　had　bought　from　the　first　gypsies　and　that　had　disappeared　during　the　time　before　Jos？Arcadio；　had　taken　his　sixtyfive　trips　around　the　world　was　still　in　Pilar　Ternera’s　house。　Also　almost　a　hundred　years　old；　but　fit　and　agile　in　spite　of　her　inconceivable　fatness；　which　frightened　children　as　her　laughter　had　frightened　the　doves　in　other　times；　Pilar　Ternera　was　not　surprised　that　？rsula　was　correct　because　her　own　experience　was　beginning　to　tell　her　that　an　alert　old　age　can　be　more　keen　than　the　cards。
　　　Nevertheless；　when　？rsula　realized　that　she　had　not　had　enough　time　to　consolidate　the　vocation　of　Jos？Arcadio；　she　let　herself　be　disturbed　by　consternation。　She　began　to　make　mistakes；　trying　to　see　with　her　eyes　the　things　that　intuition　allowed　her　to　see　with　greater　clarity。　One　morning　she　poured　the　contents　of　an　inkwell　over　the　boy’s　head　thinking　that　it　was　rose　water。　She　stumbled　so　much　in　her　insistence　in　taking　part　in　everything　that　she　felt　herself　upset　by　gusts　of　bad　humor　and　she　tried　to　get　rid　of　the　shadows　that　were　beginning　to　wrap　her　in　a　straitjacket　of　cobwebs。　It　was　then　that　it　occurred　to　her　that　her　clumsiness　was　not　the　first　victory　of　decrepitude　and　darkness　but　a　sentence　passed　by　time。　She　thought　that　previously；　when　God　did　not　make　the　same　traps　out　of　the　months　and　years　that　the　Turks　used　when　they　measured　a　yard　of　percale；　things　were　different。　Now　children　not　only　grew　faster；　but　even　feelings　developed　in　a　different　way。　No　sooner　had　Remedios　the　Beauty　ascended　to　heaven　in　body　and　soul　than　the　inconsiderate　Fernanda　was　going　about　mumbling　to　herself　because　her　sheets　had　been　carried　off。　The　bodies　of　the　Aurelianos　were　no　sooner　cold　in　their　graves　than　Aureliano　Segundo　had　the　house　lighted　up　again；　filled　with　drunkards　playing　the　accordion　and　dousing　themselves　in　champagne；　as　if　dogs　and　not　Christians　had　died；　and　as　if　that　madhouse　which　had　cost　her　so　many　headaches　and　so　many　candy　animals　was　destined　to　bee　a　trash　heap　of　perdition。　Remembering　those　things　as　she　prepared　Jos？Arcadio’s　trunk；　？rsula　wondered　if　it　was　not　preferable　to　lie　down　once　and　for　all　in　her　grave　and　let　them　throw　the　earth　over　her；　and　she　asked　God；　without　fear；　if　he　really　believed　that　people　were　made　of　iron　in　order　to　bear　so　many　troubles　and　mortifications；　and　asking　over　and　over　she　was　stirring　up　her　own　confusion　and　she　felt　irrepressible　desires　to　let　herself　go　and　scamper　about　like　a　foreigner　and　allow　herself　at　last　an　instant　of　rebellion；　that　instant　yearned　for　so　many　times　and　so　many　times　postponed；　putting　her　resignation　aside　and　shitting　on　everything　once　and　for　all　and　drawing　out　of　her　heart　the　infinite　stacks　of　bad　words　that　she　had　been　forced　to　swallow　over　a　century　of　conformity。
　　　“Shit！？she　shouted。
　　　Amaranta；　who　was　starting　to　put　the　clothes　into　the　trunk；　thought　that　she　had　been　bitten　by　a　scorpion。
　　　“Where　is　it？？she　asked　in　alarm。
　　　“What？？
　　　“The　bug！？Amaranta　said。
　　　？rsula　put　a　finger　on　her　heart。
　　　“Here；？she　said。
　　　On　Thursday；　at　two　in　the　afternoon；　Jos？Arcadio　left　for　the　seminary。　‘？rsula　would　remember　him　always　as　she　said　goodbye　to　him；　languid　and　serious；　without　shedding　a　tear；　as　she　had　taught　him；　sweltering　in　the