百年孤独(英文版)-第40部分

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lashes　of　light　that　broke　through　the　wooden　slats　as　they　went　through　sleeping　towns　he　saw　the　man　corpses；　woman　corpses；　child　corpses　who　would　be　thrown　into　the　sea　like　rejected　bananas。　He　recognized　only　a　woman　who　sold　drinks　in　the　square　and　Colonel　Gavilán；　who　still　held　wrapped　in　his　hand　the　belt　with　a　buckle　of　Morelia　silver　with　which　he　had　tried　to　open　his　way　through　the　panic。　When　he　got　to　the　first　car　he　jumped　into　the　darkness　and　lay　beside　the　tracks　until　the　train　had　passed。　It　was　the　longest　one　he　had　ever　seen；　with　almost　two　hundred　freight　cars　and　a　lootive　at　either　end　and　a　third　one　in　the　middle。　It　had　no　lights；　not　even　the　red　and　green　running　lights；　and　it　slipped　off　with　a　nocturnal　and　stealthy　velocity。　On　top　of　the　cars　there　could　be　seen　the　dark　shapes　of　the　soldiers　with　their　emplaced　machine　guns。
　　　After　midnight　a　torrential　cloudburst　came　up。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　did　not　know　where　it　was　that　he　had　jumped　off；　but　he　knew　that　by　going　in　the　opposite　direction　to　that　of　the　train　he　would　reach　Macondo。　After　walking　for　more　than　three　hours；　soaked　to　the　skin；　with　a　terrible　headache；　he　was　able　to　make　out　the　first　houses　in　the　light　of　dawn。　Attracted　by　the　smell　of　coffee；　he　went　into　a　kitchen　where　a　woman　with　a　child　in　her　arms　was　leaning　over　the　stove。
　　　“Hello；？he　said；　exhausted。　“I’m　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　Buendía。？
　　　He　pronounced　his　whole　name；　letter　by　letter；　in　order　to　convince　her　that　he　was　alive。　He　was　wise　in　doing　so；　because　the　woman　had　thought　that　he　was　an　apparition　as　she　saw　the　dirty；　shadowy　figure　with　his　head　and　clothing　dirty　with　blood　and　touched　with　the　solemnity　of　death　e　through　the　door。　She　recognized　him。　She　brought　him　a　blanket　so　that　he　could　wrap　himself　up　while　his　clothes　dried　by　the　fire；　she　warmed　some　water　to　wash　his　wound；　which　was　only　a　flesh　wound；　and　she　gave　him　a　clean　diaper　to　bandage　his　head。　Then　she　gave　him　a　mug　of　coffee　without　sugar　as　she　had　been　told　the　Buendías　drank　it；　and　she　spread　his　clothing　out　near　the　fire。
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　did　not　speak　until　he　had　finished　drinking　his　coffee。
　　　“There　must　have　been　three　thousand　of　them？he　murmured。
　　　“What？？
　　　“The　dead；？he　clarified。　“It　must　have　been　an　of　the　people　who　were　at　the　station。？
　　　The　woman　measured　him　with　a　pitying　look。　“There　haven’t　been　any　dead　here；？she　said。　“Since　the　time　of　your　uncle；　the　colonel；　nothing　has　happened　in　Macondo。？In　the　three　kitchens　where　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　stopped　before　reaching　home　they　told　him　the　same　thing。　“There　weren’t　any　dead。　He　went　through　the　small　square　by　the　station　and　he　saw　the　fritter　stands　piled　one　on　top　of　the　other　and　he　could　find　no　trace　of　the　massacre。　The　streets　were　deserted　under　the　persistent　rain　and　the　houses　locked　up　with　no　trace　of　life　inside。　The　only　human　note　was　the　first　tolling　of　the　bells　for　mass。　He　knocked　at　the　door　at　Colonel　Gavilán’s　house。　A　pregnant　woman　whom　he　had　seen　several　times　closed　the　door　in　his　face。　“He　left；？she　said；　frightened。　“He　went　back　to　his　own　country。？The　main　entrance　to　the　wire　chicken　coop　was　guarded　as　always　by　two　local　policemen　who　looked　as　if　they　were　made　of　stone　under　the　rain；　with　raincoats　and　rubber　boots。　On　their　marginal　street　the　West　Indian　Negroes　were　singing　Saturday　psalms。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　jumped　over　the　courtyard　wall　and　entered　the　house　through　the　kitchen。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　barely　raised　her　voice。　“Don’t　let　Fernanda　see　you；？she　said。　“She’s　just　getting　up。？As　if　she　were　fulfilling　an　implicit　pact；　she　took　her　son　to　the　“chamberpot　room。？arranged　Melquíades？brokendown　cot　for　him　and　at　two　in　the　afternoon；　while　Fernanda　was　taking　her　siesta；　she　passed　a　plate　of　food　in　to　him　through　the　window。
　　　Aureliano　Segundo　had　slept　at　home　because　the　rain　had　caught　him　time　and　at　three　in　the　afternoon　he　was　still　waiting　for　it　to　clear。　Informed　in　secret　by　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad；　he　visited　his　brother　in　Melquíades？room　at　that　time。　He　did　not　believe　the　version　of　the　massacre　or　the　nightmare　trip　of　the　train　loaded　with　corpses　traveling　toward　the　sea　either。　The　night　before　he　had　read　an　extraordinary　proclamation　to　the　nation　which　said　that　the　workers　had　left　the　station　and　had　returned　home　in　peaceful　groups。　The　proclamation　also　stated　that　the　union　leaders；　with　great　patriotic　spirit；　had　reduced　their　demands　to　two　points：　a　reform　of　medical　services　and　the　building　of　latrines　in　the　living　quarters。　It　was　stated　later　that　when　the　military　authorities　obtained　the　agreement　with　the　workers；　they　hastened　to　tell　Mr。　Brown　and　he　not　only　accepted　the　new　conditions　but　offered　to　pay　for　three　days　of　public　festivities　to　celebrate　the　end　of　the　conflict。　Except　that　when　the　military　asked　him　on　what　date　they　could　announce　the　signing　of　the　agreement；　he　looked　out　the　window　at　the　sky　crossed　with　lightning　flashes　and　made　a　profound　gesture　of　doubt。
　　　“When　the　rain　stops；？he　said。　“As　long　as　the　rain　lasts　we’re　suspending　all　activities。？
　　　It　had　not　rained　for　three　months　and　there　had　been　a　drought。　But　when　Mr。　Brown　announced　his　decision　a　torrential　downpour　spread　over　the　whole　banana　region。　It　was　the　one　that　caught　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　on　his　way　to　Macondo。　A　week　later　it　was　still　raining。　The　official　version；　repeated　a　thousand　times　and　mangled　out　all　over　the　country　by　every　means　of　munication　the　government　found　at　hand；　was　finally　accepted：　there　were　no　dead；　the　satisfied　workers　had　gone　back　to　their　families；　and　the　banana　pany　was　suspending　all　activity　until　the　rains　stopped。　Martial　law　continued　with　an　eye　to　the　necessity　of　taking　emergency　measures　for　the　public　disaster　of　the　endless　downpour；　but　the　troops　were　confined　to　quarters。　During　the　day　the　soldiers　walked　through　the　torrents　in　the　streets　with　their　pant　legs　rolled　up；　playing　with　boats　with　the　children。　At　night　after　taps；　they　knocked　doors　down　with　their　rifle　butts；　hauled　suspects　out　of　their　beds；　and　took　them　off　on　trips　from　which　there　was　no　return。　The　search　for　and　extermination　of　the　hoodlums；　murderers；　arsonists；　and　rebels　of　Decree　No。　4　was　still　going　on；　but　the　military　denied　it　even　to　the　relatives　of　the　victims　who　crowded　the　mandant’s　offices　in　search　of　news。　“You　must　have　been　dreaming；？the　officers　insisted。　“Nothing　has　happened　in　Macondo；　nothing　has　ever　happened；　and　nothing　ever　will　happen。　“This　is　a　happy　town。？In　that　way　they　were　finally　able　to　wipe　out　the　union　leaders。
　　　The　only　survivor　was　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo。　One　February　night　the　unmistakable　blows　of　rifle　butts　were　heard　at　the　door。　Aureliano　Segundo；　who　was　still　waiting　for　it　to　clear；　opened　the　door　to　six　soldiers　under　the　mand　of　an　officer。　Soaking　from　the　rain；　without　saying　a　word；　they　searched　the　house　room　by　room；　closet　by　closet；　from　parlor　to　pantry。　？rsula　woke　up　when　they　turned　on　the　light　in　her　room　and　she　did　not　breathe　while　the　march　went　on　but　held　her　fingers　in　the　shape　of　a　cross；　pointing　them　to　where　the　soldiers　were　moving　about。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　managed　to　warn　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　who　was　sleeping　in　Melquíades？room；　but　he　could　see　that　it　was　too　late　to　try　to　escape。　So　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　locked　the　door　again　and　he　put　on　his　shirt　and　his　shoes　and　sat　down　on　the　cot　to　wait　for　them。　At　that　moment　they　were　searching　the　gold　workshop。　The　officer　made　them　open　the　padlock　and　with　a　quick　sweep　of　his　lantern　he　saw　the　workbench　and　the　glass　cupboard　with　bottles　of　acid　and　instruments　that　were　still　where　their　owner　had　left　them　and　he　seemed　to　understand　that　no　one　lived　in　that　room。　He　wisely　asked　Aureliano　Segundo　if　he　was　a　silversmith；　however；　and　the　latter　explained　to　him　that　it　had　been　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　workshop。　“Oho；？the　officer　said；　turned　on　the　lights；　and　ordered　such　a　minute　search　that　they　did　not　miss　the　eighteen　little　gold　fishes　that　had　not　been　melted　down　and　that　were　hidden　behind　the　bottles　Is　their　tin　can。　The　officer　examined　them　one　by　one　on　the　workbench　and　then　he　turned　human。　“I’d　like　to　take　one；　if　I　may；？he　said。　“At　one　time　they　were　a　mark　of　subversion；　but　now　they’re　relics。？He　was　young；　almost　an　adolescent；　with　no　sign　of　timidity　and　with　a　natural　pleasant　manner　that　had　not　shown　itself　until　then。　Aureliano　Segundo　gave　him　the　little　fish。　The　officer　put　it　in　his　shirt　pocket　with　a　childlike　glow　in　his　eyes　and　he　put　the　others　back　in　the　can　and　set　it　back　where　it　had　been。
　　　“It’s　a　wonderful　memento；？he　said。　“Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　one　of　our　greatest　men。？
　　　Nevertheless；　that　surge　of　humanity　did　not　alter　his　professional　conduct。　At　Melquíades？room；　which　was　locked　up　again　with　the　padlock；　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　tried　one　last　hope。　“No　one　has　lived　in　that　room　for　a　century；？she　said。　The　officer　had　it　opened　and　flashed　the　beam　of　the　lantern　over　it；　and　Aureliano　Segundo　and　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　saw　the　Arab　eyes　of　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　at　the　moment　when　the　ray　of　light　passed　over　his　face　and　they　understood　that　it　was　the　end　of　one　anxiety　and　the　beginning　of　another　which　would　find　relief　only　in　resignation。　But　the　officer　continued　examining　the　room　with　the　lantern　and　showed　no　sign　of　interest　until　he　discovered　the　seventytwo　chamberpots　piled　up　in　the　cupboards。　Then　he　turned　on　the　light。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　sitting　on　the　edge　of　the　cot；　ready　to　go；　more　solemn　and　pensive　than　ever。　In　the　background　were　the　shelves　with　the　shredded　books；　the　rolls　of　parchment；　and　the　clean　and　orderly　worktable　with　the　ink　still　fresh　in　the　inkwells。　There　was　the　same　pureness　in　the　air；　the　same　clarity；　the　same　respite　from　dust　and　destruction　that　Aureliano　Segundo　had　known　in　childhood　and　that　only　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　could　not　perceive。　But　the　officer　was　only　interested　in　the　chamberpots。
　　　“How　many　people　live　in　this　house？？he　asked。
　　　“Five。？
　　　The　officer　obviously　did　not　understand。　He　paused　with　his　glance　on　the　space　where　Aureliano　Segundo　and　Santa　Soft　de　la　Piedad　were　still　seeing　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　and　the　latter　also　realized　that　the　soldier　was　looking　at　him　without　seeing　him。　Then　he　turned　out　the　light　and　closed　the　door。　When　he　spoke　to　the　soldiers；　Aureliano；　Segundo　understood　that　the　young　officer　had　seen　the　room　with　the　same　eyes　as　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。
　　　“It’s　obvious　that　no　one　has　been　in　that　room　for　at　least　a　hundred　years。？the　officer　said　to　the　soldiers。　“There　must　even　be　snakes　in　there。？
　　　When　the　door　closed；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　sure　that　the　war　was　over。　Years　before　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　spoken　to　him　about　the　fascination　of　war　and　had　tried　to　show　it　to　him　with　countless　examples　drawn　from　his　own　experience。　He　had　believed　him。　But　the　night　when　the　soldiers　looked　at　him　without　seeing　him　while　he　thought　about　the　tension　of　the　past　few　months；　the　misery　of　jail；　the　panic　at　the　station；　and　the　train　loaded　with　dead　people；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　reached　the　conclusion　that　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　nothing　but　a　faker　or　an　imbecile。　He　could　not　understand　why　he　had　needed　so　many　words　to　explain　what　he　felt　in　war　because　one　was　enough：　fear。　In　Melquíades？room；　on　the　other　hand；　protected　by　the　supernatural　light；　by　the　sound　of　the　rain；　by　the　feeling　of　being　invisible；　he　found　the　repose　that　he　had　not　had　for　one　single　instant　during　his　previous　life；　and　the　only　fear　that　remained　was　that　they　would　bury　him　alive。　He　told　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　about　it　when　she　brought　him　his　daily　meals　and　she　promised　to　struggle　to　stay　alive　even　beyond　her　natural　forces　in　order　to　make　sure　that　they　would　bury　him　dead。　Free　from　all　fear；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　dedicated　himself　then　to　peruse　the　manuscripts　of　Melquíades　many　times；　and　with　so　much　more　pleasure　when　he　could　not　understand　them。　He　became　accustomed　to　the　sound　of　the　rain；　which　after　two　months　had　bee　another　form　of　silence；　and　the　only　thing　that　disturbed　his　solitude　was　the　ing　and　going　of　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad。　He　asked　her；　therefore；　to　leave　the　meals　on　the　windowsill　and　padlock　the　door。　The　rest　of　the　family　fot　about　him　including　Fernanda；　who　did　not　mind　leaving　him　there　when　she　found　that　the　soldiers　had　seen　him　without　recognizing　him。　After　six　months　of　enclosure；　since　the　soldiers　had　left　Macondo　Aureliano　Segundo　removed　the　padlock；　looking　for　someone　he　could　talk　to　until　the　rain　stopped。　As　soon　as　he　opened　the　door　he　felt　the　pestilential　attack　of　the　chamberpots；　which　were　placed　on　the　floor　and　all　of　which　had　been　used　several　times。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　devoured　by　baldness；　indifferent　to　the　air　that　had　been　sharpened　by　the　nauseating　vapors；　was　still　reading　and　rereading　the　unintelligible　parchments。　He　was　illuminated　by　a　seraphic　glow。　He　scarcely　raised　his　eyes　when　he　heard　the　door　open；　but　that　look　was　enough　for　his　brother　to　see　repeated　in　it　the　irreparable　fate　of　his　greatgrandfather。
　　　“There　were　more　than　three　thousand　of　them；？was　all　that　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　said。　“I’m　sure　now　that　they　were　everybody　who　had　been　at　the　station。？

Chapter　16
IT　RAINED　FOR　four　years；　eleven　months；　and　two　days。　There　were　periods　of　drizzle　during　which　everyone　put　on　his　full　dress　and　a　convalescent　look　to　celebrate　the　clearing；　but　the　people　soon　grew　accustomed　to　interpret　the　pauses　as　a　sign　of　redoubled　rain。　The　sky　crumbled　into　a　set　of　destructive　storms　and　out　of　the　north　came　hurricanes　that　scattered　roofs　about　and　knocked　down　walls　and　uprooted　every　last　plant　of　the　banana　groves。　Just　as　during　the　insomnia　plague；　as　？rsula　came　to　remember　during　those　days；　the　calamity　itself　inspired　defenses　against　boredom。　Aureliano　Segundo　was　one　of　those　who　worked　hardest　not　to　be　conquered　by　idleness。　He　had　gone　home　for　some　minor　matter　on　the　night　that　Mr。　Brown　unleashed　the　storm；　and　Fernanda　tried　to　help　him　with　a　halfblownout　umbrella　that　she　found　in　a　closet。　“I　don’t　need　it；？he　said。　“I’ll　stay　until　it　clears。？That　was　not；　of　course；　an　ironclad　promise；　but　he　would　acplish　it　literally。　Since　his　clothes　were　at　Petra　Cotes’s；　every　three　days　he　would　take　off　what　he　had　on　and　wait　in　his　shorts　until　they　washed。　In　order　not　to　bee　bored；　he　dedicated　himself　to　the　task　of　repairing　the　many　things　that　needed　fixing　in　the　house。　He　adjusted　hinges；　oiled　locks；　screwed　knockers　tight；　and　planed　doorjambs。　For　several　months　he　was　seen　wandering　about　with　a　toolbox　that　the　gypsies　must　have　left　behind　in　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　days；　and　no　one　knew　whether　because　of　the　involuntary　exercise；　the　winter　tedium　or　the　imposed　abstinence；　but　his　belly　was　deflating　little　by　little　like　a　wineskin　and　his　face　of　a　beatific　tortoise　was　being　less　bloodshot　and　his　double　chin　l