百年孤独(英文版)-第43部分

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ay　at　two　in　the　afternoon　the　world　lighted　up　with　a　crazy　crimson　sun　as　harsh　as　brick　dust　and　almost　as　cool　as　water；　and　it　did　not　rain　again　for　ten　years。
　　　Macondo　was　in　ruins。　In　the　swampy　streets　there　were　the　remains　of　furniture；　animal　skeletons　covered　with　red　lilies；　the　last　memories　of　the　hordes　of　newers　who　had　fled　Macondo　as　wildly　as　they　had　arrived。　The　houses　that　had　been　built　with　such　haste　during　the　banana　fever　had　been　abandoned。　The　banana　pany　tore　down　its　installations。　All　that　remained　of　the　former　wiredin　city　were　the　ruins。　The　wooden　houses；　the　cool　terraces　for　breezy　cardplaying　afternoons；　seemed　to　have　been　blown　away　in　an　anticipation　of　the　prophetic　wind　that　years　later　would　wipe　Macondo　off　the　face　of　the　earth。　The　only　human　trace　left　by　that　voracious　blast　was　a　glove　belonging　to　Patricia　Brown　in　an　automobile　smothered　in　wild　pansies。　The　enchanted　region　explored　by　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　in　the　days　of　the　founding；　where　later　on　the　banana　plantations　flourished；　was　a　bog　of　rotting　roots；　on　the　horizon　of　which　one　could　manage　to　see　the　silent　foam　of　the　sea。　Aureliano　Segundo　went　through　a　crisis　of　affliction　on　the　first　Sunday　that　he　put　on　dry　clothes　and　went　out　to　renew　his　acquaintance　with　the　town。　The　survivors　of　the　catastrophe；　the　same　ones　who　had　been　living　in　Macondo　before　it　had　been　struck　by　the　banana　pany　hurricane；　were　sitting　in　the　middle　of　the　street　enjoying　their　first　sunshine。　They　still　had　the　green　of　the　algae　on　their　skin　and　the　musty　smell　of　a　corner　that　had　been　stamped　on　them　by　the　rain；　but　in　their　hearts　they　seemed　happy　to　have　recovered　the　town　in　which　they　had　been　born。　The　Street　of　the　Turks　was　again　what　it　had　been　earlier；　in　the　days　when　the　Arabs　with　slippers　and　rings　in　their　ears　were　going　about　the　world　swapping　knickknacks　for　macaws　and　had　found　in　Macondo　a　good　bend　in　the　road　where　they　could　find　respite　from　their　ageold　lot　as　wanderers。　Having　crossed　through　to　the　other　side　of　the　rain。　the　merchandise　in　the　booths　was　falling　apart；　the　cloths　spread　over　the　doors　were　splotched　with　mold；　the　counters　undermined　by　termites；　the　walls　eaten　away　by　dampness；　but　the　Arabs　of　the　third　generation　were　sitting　in　the　same　place　and　in　the　same　position　as　their　fathers　and　grandfathers；　taciturn；　dauntless；　invulnerable　to　time　and　disaster；　as　alive　or　as　dead　as　they　had　been　after　the　insomnia　plague　and　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　thirtytwo　wars。　Their　strength　of　spirit　in　the　face　of　ruins　of　the　gaming　tables；　the　fritter　stands；　the　shooting　galleries；　and　the　alley　where　they　interpreted　dreams　and　predicted　the　future　made　Aureliano　Segundo　ask　them　with　his　usual　informality　what　mysterious　resources　they　had　relied　upon　so　as　not　to　have　gone　awash　in　the　storm；　what　the　devil　they　had　done　so　as　not　to　drown；　and　one　after　the　other；　from　door　to　door；　they　returned　a　crafty　smile　and　a　dreamy　look；　and　without　any　previous　consultation　they　all　gave　the　answer：　
　　　“Swimming。？
　　　Petra　Cotes　was　perhaps　the　only　native　who　had　an　Arab　heart。　She　had　seen　the　final　destruction　of　her　stables；　her　barns　dragged　off　by　the　storm。　but　she　had　managed　to　keep　her　house　standing。　During　the　second　year　she　had　sent　pressing　messages　to　Aureliano　Segundo　and　he　had　answered　that　he　did　not　know　when　he　would　go　back　to　her　house；　but　that　in　any　case　he　would　bring　along　a　box　of　gold　coins　to　pave　the　bedroom　floor　with。　At　that　time　she　had　dug　deep　into　her　heart；　searching　for　the　strength　that　would　allow　her　to　survive　the　misfortune；　and　she　had　discovered　a　reflective　and　just　rage　with　which　she　had　sworn　to　restore　the　fortune　squandered　by　her　lover　and　then　wiped　out　by　the　deluge。　It　was　such　an　unbreakable　decision　that　Aureliano　Segundo　went　back　to　her　house　eight　months　after　the　last　message　and　found　her　green　disheveled；　with　sunken　eyelids　and　skin　spangled　with　mange；　but　she　was　writing　out　numbers　on　small　pieces　of　paper　to　make　a　raffle。　Aureliano　Segundo　was　astonished；　and　he　was　so　dirty　and　so　solemn　that　Petra　Cotes　almost　believed　that　the　one　who　had　e　to　see　her　was　not　the　lover　of　all　her　life　but　his　twin　brother。
　　　“You’re　crazy；？he　told　her。　“Unless　you　plan　to　raffle　off　bones。？
　　　Then　she　told　him　to　look　in　the　bedroom　and　Aureliano　Segundo　saw　the　mule。　Its　skin　was　clinging　to　its　bones　like　that　of　its　mistress；　but　it　was　just　as　alive　and　resolute　as　she。　Petra　Cotes　had　fed　it　with　her　wrath；　and　when　there　was　no　more　hay　or　corn　or　roots；　she　had　given　it　shelter　in　her　own　bedroom　and　fed　it　on　the　percale　sheets；　the　Persian　rugs；　the　plush　bedspreads；　the　velvet　drapes；　and　the　canopy　embroidered　with　gold　thread　and　silk　tassels　on　the　episcopal　bed。

Chapter　17
？RSULA　HAD　to　make　a　great　effort　to　fulfill　her　promise　to　die　when　it　cleared。　The　waves　of　lucidity　that　were　so　scarce　during　the　rains　became　more　frequent　after　August；　when　an　and　wind　began　to　blow　and　suffocated　the　rose　bushes　and　petrified　the　piles　of　mud；　and　ended　up　scattering　over　Macondo　the　burning　dust　that　covered　the　rusted　zinc　roofs　and　the　ageold　almond　trees　forever。　？rsula　cried　in　lamentation　when　she　discovered　that　for　more　than　three　years　she　had　been　a　plaything　for　the　children。　She　washed　her　painted　face；　took　off　the　strips　of　brightly　colored　cloth；　the　dried　lizards　and　frogs；　and　the　rosaries　and　old　Arab　necklaces　that　they　had　hung　all　over　her　body；　and　for　the　first　time　since　the　death　of　Amaranta　she　got　up　out　of　bed　without　anybody’s　help　to　join　in　the　family　life　once　more。　The　spirit　of　her　invincible　heart　guided　her　through　the　shadows。　Those　who　noticed　her　stumbling　and　who　bumped　into　the　archangelic　arm　she　kept　raised　at　head　level　thought　that　she　was　having　trouble　with　her　body；　but　they　still　did　not　think　she　was　blind。　She　did　not　need　to　see　to　realize　that　the　flower　beds；　cultivated　with　such　care　since　the　first　rebuilding；　had　been　destroyed　by　the　rain　and　ruined　by　Aureliano　Segundo’s　excavations；　and　that　the　walls　and　the　cement　of　the　floors　were　cracked；　the　furniture　mushy　and　discolored；　the　doors　off　their　hinges；　and　the　family　menaced　by　a　spirit　of　resignation　and　despair　that　was　inconceivable　in　her　time。　Feeling　her　way　along　through　the　empty　bedrooms　she　perceived　the　continuous　rumble　of　the　termites　as　they　carved　the　wood；　the　snipping　of　the　moths　in　the　clothes　closets；　and　the　devastating　noise　of　the　enormous　red　ants　that　had　prospered　during　the　deluge　and　were　undermining　the　foundations　of　the　house。　One　day　she　opened　the　trunk　with　the　saints　and　had　to　ask　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　to　get　off　her　body　the　cockroaches　that　jumped　out　and　that　had　already　turned　the　clothing　to　dust。　“A　person　can’t　live　in　neglect　like　this；？she　said。　“If　we　go　on　like　this　we’ll　be　devoured　by　animals。？From　then　on　she　did　not　have　a　moment　of　repose。　Up　before　dawn；　she　would　use　anybody　available；　even　the　children。　She　put　the　few　articles　of　clothing　that　were　still　usable　out　into　the　sun；　she　drove　the　cockroaches　off　with　powerful　insecticide　attacks；　she　scratched　out　the　veins　that　the　termites　had　made　on　doors　and　windows　and　asphyxiated　the　ants　in　their　anthills　with　quicklime。　The　fever　of　restoration　finally　brought　her　to　the　fotten　rooms。　She　cleared　out　the　rubble　and　cobwebs　in　the　room　where　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　had　lost　his　wits　looking　for　the　Philosopher’s　stone；　she　put　the　silver　shop　which　had　been　upset　by　the　soldiers　in　order；　and　lastly　she　asked　for　the　keys　to　Melquíades？room　to　see　what　state　it　was　in。　Faithful　to　the　wishes　of　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　who　had　forbidden　anyone　to　e　in　unless　there　was　a　clear　indication　that　he　had　died；　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　tried　all　kinds　of　subterfuges　to　throw　？rsula　off　the　track。　But　so　inflexible　was　her　determination　not　to　surrender　even　the　most　remote　corner　of　the　house　to　the　insects　that　she　knocked　down　every　obstacle　in　her　path；　and　after　three　days　of　insistence　she　succeeded　in　getting　them　to　open　the　door　for　her。　She　had　to　hold　on　to　the　doorjamb　so　that　the　stench　would　not　knock　her　over；　but　she　needed　only　two　seconds　to　remember　that　the　schoolgirls？seventytwo　chamberpots　were　in　there　and　that　on　one　of　the　rainy　nights　a　patrol　of　soldiers　had　searched　the　house　looking　for　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　and　had　been　unable　to　find　him。
　　　“Lord　save　us！？she　exclaimed；　as　if　she　could　see　everything。　“So　much　trouble　teaching　you　good　manners　and　you　end　up　living　like　a　pig。？
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　still　reading　over　the　parchments。　The　only　thing　visible　in　the　intricate　tangle　of　hair　was　the　teeth　striped　with　green　dime　and　his　motionless　eyes。　When　he　recognized　his　greatgrandmother’s　voice　he　turned　his　head　toward　the　door；　tried　to　smile；　and　without　knowing　it　repeated　an　old　phrase　of　？rsula’s。
　　　“What　did　you　expect？？he　murmured。　“Time　passes。？
　　　“That’s　how　it　goes；？？rsula　said；　“but　not　so　much。？
　　　When　she　said　it　she　realized　that　she　was　giving　the　same　reply　that　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　given　in　his　death　cell；　and　once　again　she　shuddered　with　the　evidence　that　time　was　not　passing；　as　she　had　just　admitted；　but　that　it　was　turning　in　a　circle。　But　even　then　she　did　not　give　resignation　a　chance。　She　scolded　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　as　if　he　were　a　child　and　insisted　that　he　take　a　bath　and　shave　and　lend　a　hand　in　fixing　up　the　house。　The　simple　idea　of　abandoning　the　room　that　had　given　him　peace　terrified　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo。　He　shouted　that　there　was　no　human　power　capable　of　making　him　go　out　because　he　did　not　want　to　see　the　train　with　two　hundred　cars　loaded　with　dead　people　which　left　Macondo　every　day　at　dusk　on　its　way　to　the　sea。　“They　were　all　of　those　who　were　at　the　station；？he　shouted。　“Three　thousand　four　hundred　eight。？Only　then　did　？rsula　realize　that　he　was　in　a　world　of　shadows　more　impenetrable　than　hers；　as　unreachable　and　solitary　as　that　of　his　greatgrandfather。　She　left　him　in　the　room；　but　she　succeeded　in　getting　them　to　leave　the　padlock　off；　clean　it　every　day；　throw　the　chamberpots　away　except　for　one；　and　to　keep　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　as　clean　and　presentable　as　his　greatgrandfather　had　been　during　his　long　captivity　under　the　chestnut　tree。　At　first　Fernanda　interpreted　that　bustle　as　an　attack　of　senile　madness　and　it　was　difficult　for　her　to　suppress　her　exasperation。　But　about　that　time　Jos？Arcadio　told　her　that　he　planned　to　e　to　Macondo　from　Rome　before　taking　his　final　vows；　and　the　good　news　filled　her　with　such　enthusiasm　that　from　morning　to　night　she　would　be　seen　watering　the　flowers　four　times　a　day　so　that　her　son　would　not　have　a　bad　impression　of　the　house。　It　was　that　same　incentive　which　induced　her　to　speed　up　her　correspondence　with　the　invisible　doctors　and　to　replace　the　pots　of　ferns　and　oregano　and　the　begonias　on　the　porch　even　before　？rsula　found　out　that　they　had　been　destroyed　by　Aureliano　Segundo’s　exterminating　fury。　Later　on　she　sold　the　silver　service　and　bought　ceramic　dishes；　pewter　bowls　and　soup　spoons；　and　alpaca　tablecloths；　and　with　them　brought　poverty　to　the　cupboards　that　had　been　accustomed　to　India　pany　chinaware　and　Bohemian　crystal。　？rsula　always　tried　to　go　a　step　beyond。　“Open　the　windows　and　the　doors；？she　shouted。　“Cook　some　meat　and　fish；　buy　the　largest　turtles　around；　let　strangers　e　and　spread　their　mats　in　the　corners　and　urinate　in　the　rose　bushes　and　sit　down　to　eat　as　many　times　as　they　want　and　belch　and　rant　and　muddy　everything　with　their　boots；　and　let　them　do　whatever　they　want　to　us；　because　that’s　the　only　way　to　drive　off　rain。？But　it　was　a　vain　illusion。　She　was　too　old　then　and　living　on　borrowed　time　to　repeat　the　miracle　of　the　little　candy　animals；　and　none　of　her　descendants　had　inherited　her　strength。　The　house　stayed　closed　on　Fernanda’s　orders。
　　　Aureliano　Segundo；　who　had　taken　his　trunks　back　to　the　house　of　Petra　Cotes；　barely　had　enough　means　to　see　that　the　family　did　not　starve　to　death。　With　the　raffling　of　the　mule；　Petra　Cotes　and　he　bought　some　more　animals　with　which　they　managed　to　set　up　a　primitive　lottery　business。　Aureliano　Segundo　would　go　from　house　to　house　selling　the　tickets　that　he　himself　painted　with　colored　ink　to　make　them　more　attractive　and　convincing；　and　perhaps　he　did　not　realize　that　many　people　bought　them　out　of　gratitude　and　most　of　them　out　of　pity。　Nevertheless；　even　the　most　pitying　purchaser　was　getting　a　chance　to　win　a　pig　for　twenty　cents　or　a　calf　for　thirtytwo；　and　they　became　so　hopeful　that　on　Tuesday　nights　Petra　Cotes’s　courtyard　overflowed　with　people　waiting　for　the　moment　when　a　child　picked　at　random　drew　the　winning　number　from　a　bag。　It　did　not　take　long　to　bee　a　weekly　fair；　for　at　dusk　food　and　drink　stands　would　be　set　up　in　the　courtyard　and　many　of　those　who　were　favored　would　slaughter　the　animals　they　had　won　right　there　on　the　condition　that　someone　else　supply　the　liquor　and　music；　so　that　without　having　wanted　to；　Aureliano　Segundo　suddenly　found　himself　playing　the　accordion　again　and　participating　in　modest　tourneys　of　voracity。　Those　humble　replicas　of　the　revelry　of　former　times　served　to　show　Aureliano　Segundo　himself　how　much　his　spirits　had　declined　and　to　what　a　degree　his　skill　as　a　masterful　carouser　had　dried　up。　He　was　a　changed　man。　The　two　hundred　forty　pounds　that　he　had　attained　during　the　days　when　he　had　been　challenged　by　The　Elephant　had　been　reduced　to　one　hundred　fiftysix；　the　glowing　and　bloated　tortoise　face　had　turned　into　that　of　an　iguana；　and　he　was　always　on　the　verge　of　boredom　and　fatigue。　For　Petra　Cotes；　however；　he　had　never　been　a　better　man　than　at　that　time；　perhaps　because　the　pity　that　he　inspired　was　mixed　with　love；　and　because　of　the　feeling　of　solidarity　that　misery　aroused　in　both　of　them。　The　brokendown　bed　ceased　to　be　the　scene　of　wild　activities　and　was　changed　into　an　intimate　refuge。　Freed　of　the　repetitious　mirrors；　which　had　been　auctioned　off　to　buy　animals　for　the　lottery；　and　from　the　lewd　damasks　and　velvets；　which　the　mule　had　eaten；　they　would　stay　up　very　late　with　the　innocence　of　two　sleepless　grandparents；　taking　advantage　of　the　time　to　draw　up　accounts　and　put　away　pennies　which　they　formerly　wasted　just　for　the　sake　of　it。　Sometimes　the　cock’s　crow　would　find　them　piling　and　unpiling　coins；　taking　a　bit　away　from　here　to　put　there；　to　that　this　bunch　would　be　enough　to　keep　Fernanda　happy　and　that　would　be　for　Amaranta　？rsula’s　shoes；　and　that　other　one　for　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad；　who　had　not　had　a　new　dress　since　the　time　of　all　the　noise；　and　this　to　order　the　coffin　if　？rsula　died；　and　this　for　the　coffee　which　was　going　up　a　cent　a　pound　in　price　every　three　months；　and　this　for　the　sugar　which　sweetened　less　every　day；　and　this　for　the　lumber　which　was　still　wet　from　the　rains；　and　this　other　one　for　the　paper　and　the　colored　ink　to　make　tickets　with；　and　what　was　left　over　to　pay　off　the　winner　of　the　April　calf　whose　hide　they　had　miraculously　saved　when　it　came　down　with　a　symptomatic　carbuncle　just　when　all　of　the　numbers　in　the　raffle　had　already　been　sold。　Those　rites　of　poverty　wer