百年孤独(英文版)-第36部分

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t　Meme　also　told　him　that　the　boy　had　gone　back　to　his　country　and　had　disappeared　from　sight。　The　maturity　of　her　judgment　ensured　peace　in　the　family。　Aureliano　Segundo　then　devoted　more　time　to　Petra　Cotes；　and　although　his　body　and　soul　no　longer　permitted　him　the　debauches　of　days　gone　by；　he　lost　no　chance　to　arrange　them　and　to　dig　out　the　accordion；　which　by　then　had　some　keys　held　in　place　by　shoelaces。　At　home；　Amaranta　was　weaving　her　interminable　shroud　and　？rsula　dragged　about　in　her　decrepitude　through　the　depths　of　the　shadows　where　the　only　thing　that　was　still　visible　was　the　ghost　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　under　the　chestnut　tree。　Fernanda　consolidated　her　authority。　Her　monthly　letters　to　her　son　Jos？Arcadio　at　that　time　did　not　carry　a　string　of　lies　and　she　hid　from　him　only　her　correspondence　with　the　invisible　doctors；　who　had　diagnosed　a　benign　tumor　in　her　large　intestine　and　were　preparing　her　for　a　telepathic　operation。
　　　It　might　have　been　aid　that　peace　and　happiness　reigned　for　a　long　time　in　the　tired　mansion　of　the　Buendías　if　it　had　not　been　for　the　sudden　death　of　Amaranta；　which　caused　a　new　uproar。　It　was　an　unexpected　event。　Although　she　was　old　and　isolated　from　everyone；　she　still　looked　firm　and　upright　and　with　the　health　of　a　rock　that　she　had　always　had。　No　one　knew　her　thoughts　since　the　afternoon　on　which　she　had　given　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　his　final　rejection　and　shut　herself　up　to　weep。　She　was　not　seen　to　cry　during　the　ascension　to　heaven　of　Remedios　the　Beauty　or　over　the　extermination　of　the　Aurelianos　or　the　death　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　who　was　the　person　she　loved　most　in　this　world；　although　she　showed　it　only　when　they　found　his　body　under　the　chestnut　tree。　She　helped　pick　up　the　body。　She　dressed　him　in　his　soldier’s　uniform；　shaved　him；　bed　his　hair；　and　waxed　his　mustache　better　than　he　had　ever　done　in　his　days　of　glory。　No　one　thought　that　there　was　any　love　in　that　act　because　they　were　accustomed　to　the　familiarity　of　Amaranta　with　the　rites　of　death。　Fernanda　was　scandalized　that　she　did　not　understand　the　relationship　of　Catholicism　with　life　but　only　its　relationship　with　death；　as　if　it　were　not　a　religion　but　a　pendium　of　funeral　conventions。　Amaranta　was　too　wrapped　up　in　the　eggplant　patch　of　her　memories　to　understand　those　subtle　apologetics。　She　had　reached　old　age　with　all　of　her　nostalgias　intact。　When　she　listened　to　the　waltzes　of　Pietro　Crespi　she　felt　the　same　desire　to　weep　that　she　had　had　in　adolescence；　as　if　time　and　harsh　lessons　had　meant　nothing。　The　rolls　of　music　that　she　herself　had　thrown　into　the　trash　with　the　pretext　that　they　had　rotted　from　dampness　kept　spinning　and　playing　in　her　memory。　She　had　tried　to　sink　them　into　the　swampy　passion　that　she　allowed　herself　with　her　nephew　Aureliano　Jos？and　she　tried　to　take　refuge　in　the　calm　and　virile　protection　of　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　but　she　had　not　been　able　to　overe　them；　not　even　with　the　most　desperate　act　of　her　old　age　when　she　would　bathe　the　small　Jos？Arcadio　three　years　before　he　was　sent　to　the　seminary　and　caress　him　not　as　a　grandmother　would　have　done　with　a　grandchild；　but　as　a　woman　would　have　done　with　a　man；　as　it　was　said　that　the　French　matrons　did　and　as　she　had　wanted　to　do　with　Pietro　Crespi　at　the　age　of　twelve；　fourteen；　when　she　saw　him　in　his　dancing　tights　and　with　the　magic　wand　with　which　he　kept　time　to　the　metronome。　At　times　It　pained　her　to　have　let　that　outpouring　of　misery　follow　its　course；　and　at　times　it　made　her　so　angry　that　she　would　prick　her　fingers　with　the　needles；　but　what　pained　her　most　and　enraged　her　most　and　made　her　most　bitter　was　the　fragrant　and　wormy　guava　grove　of　love　that　was　dragging　her　toward　death。　Just　as　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　thought　about　his　war；　unable　to　avoid　it；　so　Amaranta　thought　about　Rebeca。　But　while　her　brother　had　managed　to　sterilize　his　memories；　she　had　only　managed　to　make　hers　more　scalding。　The　only　thing　that　she　asked　of　God　for　many　years　was　that　he　would　not　visit　on　her　the　punishment　of　dying　before　Rebeca。　Every　time　she　passed　by　her　house　and　noted　the　progress　of　destruction　she　took　fort　in　the　idea　that　God　was　listening　to　her。　One　afternoon；　when　she　was　sewing　on　the　porch；　she　was　assailed　by　the　certainty　that　she　would　be　sitting　in　that　place；　in　the　same　position；　and　under　the　same　light　when　they　brought　her　the　news　of　Rebeca’s　death。　She　sat　down　to　wait　for　it；　as　one　waits　for　a　letter；　and　the　fact　was　that　at　one　time　she　would　pull　off　buttons　to　sew　them　on　again　so　that　inactivity　would　not　make　the　wait　longer　and　more　anxious。　No　one　in　the　house　realized　that　at　that　time　Amaranta　was　sewing　a　fine　shroud　for　Rebeca。　Later　on；　when　Aureliano　Triste　told　how　he　had　seen　her　changed　into　an　apparition　with　leathery　skin　and　a　few　golden　threads　on　her　skull；　Amaranta　was　not　surprised　because　the　specter　described　was　exactly　what　she　had　been　imagining　for　some　time。　She　had　decided　to　restore　Rebeca’s　corpse；　to　disguise　with　paraffin　the　damage　to　her　face　and　make　a　wig　for　her　from　the　hair　of　the　saints。　She　would　manufacture　a　beautiful　corpse；　with　the　linen　shroud　and　a　plushlined　coffin　with　purple　trim。　and　she　would　put　it　at　the　disposition　of　the　worms　with　splendid　funeral　ceremonies。　She　worked　out　the　plan　with　such　hatred　that　it　made　her　tremble　to　think　about　the　scheme；　which　she　would　have　carried　out　in　exactly　the　same　way　if　it　had　been　done　out　of　love；　but　she　would　not　allow　herself　to　bee　upset　by　the　confusion　and　went　on　perfecting　the　details　so　minutely　that　she　came　to　be　more　than　a　specialist　and　was　a　virtuoso　in　the　rites　of　death。　The　only　thing　that　she　did　not　keep　In　mind　in　her　fearsome　plan　was　that　in　spite　of　her　pleas　to　God　she　might　die　before　Rebeca。　That　was；　in　fact；　what　happened。　At　the　final　moment；　however；　Amaranta　did　not　feel　frustrated；　but　on　the　contrary；　free　of　all　bitterness　because　death　had　awarded　her　the　privilege　of　announcing　itself　several　years　ahead　of　time。　She　saw　it　on　one　burning　afternoon　sewing　with　her　on　the　porch　a　short　time　after　Meme　had　left　for　school。　She　saw　it　because　it　was　a　woman　dressed　in　blue　with　long　hair；　with　a　sort　of　antiquated　look；　and　with　a　certain　resemblance　to　Pilar　Ternera　during　the　time　when　she　had　helped　with　the　chores　in　the　kitchen。　Fernanda　was　present　several　times　and　did　not　see　her；　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　she　was　so　real；　so　human；　and　on　one　occasion　asked　of　Amaranta　the　favor　of　threading　a　needle。　Death　did　not　tell　her　when　she　was　going　to　die　or　whether　her　hour　was　assigned　before　that　of　Rebeca；　but　ordered　her　to　begin　sewing　her　own　shroud　on　the　next　sixth　of　April。　She　was　authorized　to　make　it　as　plicated　and　as　fine　as　she　wanted；　but　just　as　honestly　executed　as　Rebeca’s；　and　she　was　told　that　she　would　die　without　pain；　fear；　or　bitterness　at　dusk　on　the　day　that　she　finished　it。　Trying　to　waste　the　most　time　possible；　Amaranta　ordered　some　rough　flax　and　spun　the　thread　herself。　She　did　it　so　carefully　that　the　work　alone　took　four　years。　Then　she　started　the　sewing。　As　she　got　closer　to　the　unavoidable　end　she　began　to　understand　that　only　a　miracle　would　allow　her　to　prolong　the　work　past　Rebeca’s　death；　but　the　very　concentration　gave　her　the　calmness　that　she　needed　to　accept　the　idea　of　frustration。　It　was　then　that　she　understood　the　vicious　circle　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　little　gold　fishes。　The　world　was　reduced　to　the　surface　of　her　skin　and　her　inner　self　was　safe　from　all　bitterness。　It　pained　her　not　to　have　had　that　revelation　many　years　before　when　it　had　still　been　possible　to　purify　memories　and　reconstruct　the　universe　under　a　new　light　and　evoke　without　trembling　Pietro　Crespi’s　smell　of　lavender　at　dusk　and　rescue　Rebeca　from　her　slough　of　misery；　not　out　of　hatred　or　out　of　love　but　because　of　the　measureless　understanding　of　solitude。　The　hatred　that　she　noticed　one　night　in　Memes　words　did　not　upset　her　because　it　was　directed　at　her；　but　she　felt　the　repetition　of　another　adolescence　that　seemed　as　clean　as　hers　must　have　seemed　and　that；　however；　was　already　tainted　with　rancor。　But　by　then　her　acceptance　of　her　fate　was　so　deep　that　she　was　not　even　upset　by　the　certainty　that　all　possibilities　of　rectification　were　closed　to　her。　Her　only　objective　was　to　finish　the　shroud。　Instead　of　slowing　it　down　with　useless　detail　as　she　had　done　in　the　beginning；　she　speeded　up　the　work。　One　week　before　she　calculated　that　she　would　take　the　last　stitch　on　the　night　of　February　4；　and　without　revealing　the　motives；　she　suggested　to　Meme　that　she　move　up　a　clavichord　concert　that　she　had　arranged　for　the　day　after；　but　the　girl　paid　no　attention　to　her。　Amaranta　then　looked　for　a　way　to　delay　for　fortyeight　hours；　and　she　even　thought　that　death　was　giving　her　her　way　because　on　the　night　of　February　fourth　a　storm　caused　a　breakdown　at　the　power　plant。　But　on　the　following　day；　at　eight　in　the　morning；　she　took　the　last　stitch　in　the　most　beautiful　piece　of　work　that　any　woman　had　ever　finished；　and　she　announced　without　the　least　bit　of　dramatics　that　she　was　going　to　die　at　dusk。　She　not　only　told　the　family　but　the　whole　town；　because　Amaranta　had　conceived　of　the　idea　that　she　could　make　up　for　a　life　of　meanness　with　one　last　favor　to　the　world；　and　she　thought　that　no　one　was　in　a　better　position　to　take　letters　to　the　dead。
　　　The　news　that　Amaranta　Buendía　was　sailing　at　dusk　carrying　the　mail　of　death　spread　throughout　Macondo　before　noon；　and　at　three　in　the　afternoon　there　was　a　whole　carton　full　of　letters　in　the　parlor。　Those　who　did　not　want　to　write　gave　Amaranta　verbal　messages；　which　she　wrote　down　in　a　notebook　with　the　name　and　date　of　death　of　the　recipient。　“Don’t　worry；？she　told　the　senders。　“The　first　thing　I’ll　do　when　I　get　there　is　to　ask　for　him　and　give　him　your　message。？It　was　farcical。　Amaranta　did　not　show　any　upset　or　the　slightest　sign　of　grief；　and　she　even　looked　a　bit　rejuvenated　by　a　duty　acplished。　She　was　as　straight　and　as　thin　as　ever。　If　it　had　not　been　for　her　hardened　cheekbones　and　a　few　missing　teeth；　she　would　have　looked　much　younger　than　she　really　was。　She　herself　arranged　for　them　to　put　the　letters　in　a　box　sealed　with　pitch　and　told　them　to　place　it　in　her　grave　in　a　way　best　to　protect　it　from　the　dampness。　In　the　morning　she　had　a　carpenter　called　who　took　her　measurements　for　the　coffin　as　she　stood　in　the　parlor；　as　if　it　were　for　a　new　dress。　She　showed　such　vigor　in　her　last　hours　that　Fernanda　thought　she　was　making　fun　of　everyone。　？rsula；　with　the　experience　that　Buendías　died　without　any　illness；　did　not　doubt　at　all　that　Amaranta　had　received　an　omen　of　death；　but　in　any　case　she　was　tormented　by　the　fear　that　with　the　business　of　the　letters　and　the　anxiety　of　the　senders　for　them　to　arrive　quickly　they　would　bury　her　alive　in　their　confusion。　So　she　set　about　clearing　out　the　house；　arguing　with　the　intruders　as　she　shouted　at　them；　and　by　four　in　the　afternoon　she　was　successful。　At　that　time　Amaranta　had　finished　dividing　her　things　among　the　poor　and　had　left　on　the　severe　coffin　of　unfinished　boards　only　the　change　of　clothing　and　the　simple　cloth　slippers　that　she　would　wear　in　death。　She　did　not　neglect　that　precaution　because　she　remembered　that　when　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　died　they　had　to　buy　a　pair　of　new　shoes　for　him　because　all　he　had　left　were　the　bedroom　slippers　that　he　wore　in　the　workshop。　A　little　before　five　Aureliano　Segundo　came　to　fetch　Meme　for　the　concert　and　was　surprised　that　the　house　was　prepared　for　the　funeral。　if　anyone　seemed　alive　at　the　moment　it　was　the　serene　Amaranta；　who　had　even　had　enough　time　to　cut　her　corns。　Aureliano　Segundo　and　Meme　took　leave　of　her　with　mocking　farewells　and　promised　her　that　on　the　following　Saturday　they　would　have　a　big　resurrection　party。　Drawn　by　the　public　talk　that　Amaranta　Buendía　was　receiving　letters　for　the　dead；　Father　Antonio　Isabel　arrived　at　five　o’clock　for　the　last　rites　and　he　had　to　wait　for　more　than　fifteen　minutes　for　the　recipient　to　e　out　of　her　bath。　When　he　saw　her　appear　in　a　madapollam　nightshirt　and　with　her　hair　loose　over　her　shoulders；　the　decrepit　parish　priest　thought　that　it　was　a　trick　and　sent　the　altar　boy　away。　He　thought　however；　that　he　would　take　advantage　of　the　occasion　to　have　Amaranta　confess　after　twenty　years　of　reticence。　Amaranta　answered　simply　that　she　did　not　need　spiritual　help　of　any　kind　because　her　conscience　was　clean。　Fernanda　was　scandalized。　Without　caring　that　people　could　hear　her　she　asked　herself　aloud　what　horrible　sin　Amaranta　had　mitted　to　make　her　prefer　an　impious　death　to　the　shame　of　confession。　Thereupon　Amaranta　lay　down　and　made　？rsula　give　public　testimony　as　to　her　virginity。
　　　“Let　no　one　have　any　illusions；？she　shouted　so　that　Fernanda　would　hear　her。　“Amaranta　Buendía　is　leaving　this　world　just　as　she　came　into　it。
　　　She　did　not　get　up　again。　Lying　on　cushions；　as　if　she　really　were　ill；　she　braided　her　long　hair　and　rolled　it　about　her　ears　as　death　had　told　her　it　should　be　on　her　bier。　Then　she　asked　？rsula　for　a　mirror　and　for　the　first　time　in　more　than　forty　years　she　saw　her　face；　devastated　by　age　and　martyrdom；　and　she　was　surprised　at　how　much　she　resembled　the　mental　image　that　she　had　of　herself。　？rsula　understood　by　the　silence　in　the　bedroom　that　it　had　begun　to　grow　dark。
　　　“Say　goodbye　to　Fernanda；？she　begged　her。　One　minute　of　reconciliation　is　worth　more　than　a　whole　life　of　friendship。？
　　　“It’s　of　no　use　now；？Amaranta　replied。
　　　Meme　could　not　help　thinking　about　her　when　they　turned　on　the　lights　on　the　improvised　stage　and　she　began　the　second　part　of　the　program。　In　the　middle　of　the　piece　someone　whispered　the　news　in　her　ear　and　the　session　stopped。　When　he　arrived　home；　Aureliano　Segundo　had　to　push　his　way　through　the　crowd　to　see　the　corpse　of　the　aged　virgin；　ugly　and　discolored；　with　the　black　bandage　on　her　hand　and　wrapped　in　the　magnificent　shroud。　She　was　laid　out　in　the　parlor　beside　the　box　of　letters。
　　　？rsula　did　not　get　up　again　after　the　nine　nights　of　mourning　for　Amaranta；　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　took　care　of　her。　She　took　her　meals　to　her　bedroom　and　annatto　water　for　her　to　wash　in　and　she　kept　her　up　to　date　on　everything　that　happened　in　Macondo。　Aureliano　Segundo　visited　her　frequently　and　he　brought　her　clothing　which　she　would　place　beside　the　bed　along　with　the　things　most　indispensable　for　daily　life；　so　that　in　a　short　time　she　had　built　up　a　world　within　reach　of　her　hand。　She　managed　to　arouse　a　great　love　in　little　Amaranta　？rsula；　who　was　just　like　her；　and　whom　she　taught　how　to　read。　Her　lucidity；　the　ability　to　be　sufficient　un　herself　made　one　think　that　she　was　naturally　conquered　by　the　weight　of　her　hundred　years；　but　even　though　it　was　obvious　that　she　was　having　trouble　seeing；　no　one　suspected　that　she　was　totally　blind。　She　had　so　much　time　at　her　disposal　then　and　so　much　interior　silence　to　watch　over　the　life　of　the　house　that　she　was　the　first　to　notice　Meme’s　silent　tribulation。
　　　“e　here；？she　told　her。　“Now　that　were　alone；　confess　to　this　poor　old　woman　what’s　bothering　you。？
　　　Meme　avoided　the