百年孤独(英文版)-第49部分

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es　they　had　left　buried；　she　replied　amid　loud　laughter　that　she　did　not　think　it　was　right　for　men　to　be　superstitious。　She　was　so　spontaneous；　so　emancipated；　with　such　a　free　and　modern　spirit；　that　Aureliano　did　not　know　what　to　do　with　his　body　when　he　saw　her　arrive。　“My；　my！？she　shouted　happily　with　open　arms。　“Look　at　how　my　darling　cannibal　has　grown！？Before　he　had　a　chance　to　react　she　had　already　put　a　record　on　the　portable　phonograph　she　had　brought　with　her　and　was　trying　to　teach　him　the　latest　dance　steps。　She　made　him　change　the　dirty　pants　that　he　had　inherited　from　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　gave　him　some　youthful　shirts　and　twotoned　shoes；　and　she　would　push　him　into　the　street　when　he　was　spending　too　much　time　in　Melquíades？room。
　　　Active；　small；　and　indomitable　like　？rsula；　and　almost　as　pretty　and　provocative　as　Remedios　the　Beauty；　she　was　endowed　with　a　rare　instinct　for　anticipating　fashion。　When　she　received　pictures　of　the　most　recent　fashions　in　the　mail；　they　only　proved　that　she　had　not　been　wrong　about　the　models　that　she　designed　herself　and　sewed　on　Amaranta’s　primitive　pedal　machine。　She　subscribed　to　every　fashion　magazine；　art　publication。　and　popular　music　review　published　in　Europe；　and　she　had　only　to　glance　at　them　to　realize　that　things　in　the　world　were　going　just　as　she　imagined　they　were。　It　was　inprehensible　why　a　woman　with　that　spirit　would　have　returned　to　a　dead　town　burdened　by　dust　and　heat；　and　much　less　with　a　husband　who　had　more　than　enough　money　to　live　anywhere　in　the　world　and　who　loved　her　so　much　that　he　let　himself　be　led　around　by　her　on　a　silk　leash。　As　time　passed；　however；　her　intention　to　stay　was　more　obvious；　because　she　did　not　make　any　plans　that　were　not　a　long　way　off；　nor　did　she　do　anything　that　did　not　have　as　an　aim　the　search　for　a　fortable　life　and　a　peaceful　old　age　in　Macondo。　The　canary　cage　showed　that　those　aims　were　made　up　on　the　spur　of　the　moment。　Remembering　that　her　mother　had　told　her　in　a　letter　about　the　extermination　of　the　birds；　she　had　delayed　her　trip　several　months　until　she　found　a　ship　that　stopped　at　the　Fortunate　Isles　and　there　she　chose　the　finest　twentyfive　pairs　of　canaries　so　that　she　could　repopulate　the　skies　of　Macondo。　That　was　the　most　lamentable　of　her　numerous　frustrated　undertakings。　As　the　birds　reproduced　Amaranta　？rsula　would　release　them　in　pairs；　and　no　sooner　did　they　feel　themselves　free　than　they　fled　the　town。　She　tried　in　vain　to　awaken　love　in　them　by　means　of　the　bird　cage　that　？rsula　had　built　during　the　first　reconstruction　of　the　house。　Also　in　vain　were　the　artificial　nests　built　of　esparto　grass　in　the　almond　trees　and　the　birdseed　strewn　about　the　roofs；　and　arousing　the　captives　so　that　their　songs　would　dissuade　the　deserters；　because　they　would　take　flights　on　their　first　attempts　and　make　a　turn　in　the　sky；　just　the　time　needed　to　find　the　direction　to　the　Fortunate　Isles。
　　　A　year　after　her　return；　although　she　had　not　succeeded　in　making　any　friends　or　giving　any　parties；　Amaranta　？rsula　still　believed　that　it　was　possible　to　rescue　the　munity　which　had　been　singled　out　by　misfortune。　Gaston；　her　husband；　took　care　not　to　antagonize　her；　although　since　that　fatal　noon　when　he　got　off　the　train　he　realized　that　his　wife’s　determination　had　been　provoked　by　a　nostalgic　mirage。　Certain　that　she　would　be　defeated　by　the　realities；　he　did　not　even　take　the　trouble　to　put　his　velocipede　together；　but　he　set　about　hunting　for　the　largest　eggs　among　the　spider　webs　that　the　masons　had　knocked　down；　and　he　would　open　them　with　his　fingernails　and　spend　hours　looking　through　a　magnifying　glass　at　the　tiny　spiders　that　emerged。　Later　on；　thinking　that　Amaranta　？rsula　was　continuing　with　her　repairs　so　that　her　hands　would　not　be　idle；　he　decided　to　assemble　the　handsome　bicycle；　on　which　the　front　wheel　was　much　larger　than　the　rear　one；　and　he　dedicated　himself　to　the　capture　and　curing　of　every　native　insect　he　could　find　in　the　region；　which　he　sent　in　jam　jars　to　his　former　professor　of　natural　history　at　the　University　of　Liège　where　he　had　done　advanced　work　in　entomology；　although　his　main　vocation　was　that　of　aviator。　When　he　rode　the　bicycle　he　would　wear　acrobat’s　tights；　gaudy　socks；　and　a　Sherlock　Holmes　cap；　but　when　he　was　on　foot　he　would　dress　in　a　spotless　natural　linen　suit；　white　shoes；　a　silk　bow　tie；　a　straw　boater；　and　he　would　carry　a　willow　stick　in　his　hand。　His　pale　eyes　accentuated　his　look　of　a　sailor　and　his　small　mustache　looked　like　the　fur　of　a　squirrel。　Although　he　was　at　least　fifteen　years　older　than　his　wife；　his　alert　determination　to　make　her　happy　and　his　qualities　as　a　good　lover　pensated　for　the　difference。　Actually；　those　who　saw　that　man　in　his　forties　with　careful　habits；　with　the　leash　around　his　neck　and　his　circus　bicycle；　would　not　have　thought　that　he　had　made　a　pact　of　unbridled　love　with　his　wife　and　that　they　both　gave　in　to　the　reciprocal　drive　in　the　least　adequate　of　places　and　wherever　the　spirit　moved　them；　as　they　had　done　since　they　had　began　to　keep　pany；　and　with　a　passion　that　the　passage　of　time　and　the　more　and　more　unusual　circumstances　deepened　and　enriched。　Gaston　was　not　only　a　fierce　lover；　with　endless　wisdom　and　imagination；　but　he　was　also；　perhaps；　the　first　man　in　the　history　of　the　species　who　had　made　an　emergency　landing　and　had　e　close　to　killing　himself　and　his　sweetheart　simply　to　make　love　in　a　field　of　violets。
　　　They　had　met　two　years　before　they　were　married；　when　the　sports　biplane　in　which　he　was　making　rolls　over　the　school　where　Amaranta　？rsula　was　studying　made　an　intrepid　maneuver　to　avoid　the　flagpole　and　the　primitive　framework　of　canvas　and　aluminum　foil　was　caught　by　the　tail　on　some　electric　wires。　From　then　on；　paying　no　attention　to　his　leg　in　splints；　on　weekends　he　would　pick　up　Amaranta　？rsula　at　the　nun’s　boardinghouse　where　she　lived；　where　the　rules　were　not　as　severe　as　Fernanda　had　wanted；　and　he　would　take　her　to　his　country　club。　They　began　to　love　each　other　at　an　altitude　of　fifteen　hundred　feet　in　the　Sunday　air　of　the　moors；　and　they　felt　all　the　closer　together　as　the　beings　on　earth　grew　more　and　more　minute。　She　spoke　to　him　of　Macondo　as　the　brightest　and　most　peaceful　town　on　earth；　and　of　an　enormous　house；　scented　with　oregano；　where　she　wanted　to　live　until　old　age　with　a　loyal　husband　and　two　strong　sons　who　would　be　named　Rodrigo　and　Gonzalo；　never　Aureliano　and　Jos？Arcadio；　and　a　daughter　who　would　be　named　Virginia　and　never　Remedios。　She　had　evoked　the　town　idealized　by　nostalgia　with　such　strong　tenacity　that　Gaston　understood　that　she　would　not　get　married　unless　he　took　her　to　live　in　Macondo。　He　agreed　to　it；　as　he　agreed　later　on　to　the　leash；　because　he　thought　it　was　a　passing　fancy　that　could　be　overe　in　time。　But　when　two　years　in　Macondo　had　passed　and　Amaranta　？rsula　was　as　happy　as　on　the　first　day；　he　began　to　show　signs　of　alarm。　By　that　time　he　had　dissected　every　dissectible　insect　in　the　region；　he　spoke　Spanish　like　a　native；　and　he　had　solved　all　of　the　crossword　puzzles　in　the　magazines　that　he　received　in　the　mail。　He　did　not　have　the　pretext　of　climate　to　hasten　their　return　because　nature　had　endowed　him　with　a　colonial　liver　which　resisted　the　drowsiness　of　siesta　time　and　water　that　had　vinegar　worms　in　it。　He　liked　the　native　cooking　so　much　that　once　he　ate　eightytwo　iguana　eggs　at　one　sitting。　Amaranta　？rsula；　on　the　other　hand；　had　brought　in　by　train　fish　and　shellfish　in　boxes　of　ice；　canned　meats　and　preserved　fruits；　which　were　the　only　things　she　could　eat；　and　she　still　dressed　in　European　style　and　received　designs　by　mail　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　she　had　no　place　to　go　and　no　one　to　visit　and　by　that　time　her　husband　was　not　in　a　mood　to　appreciate　her　short　skirts；　her　tilted　felt　hat；　and　her　sevenstrand　necklaces。　Her　secret　seemed　to　lie　in　the　fact　that　she　always　found　a　way　to　keep　busy；　resolving　domestic　problems　that　she　herself　had　created；　and　doing　a　poor　job　on　a　thousand　things　which　she　would　fix　on　the　following　day　with　a　pernicious　diligence　that　made　one　think　of　Fernanda　and　the　hereditary　vice　of　making　something　just　to　unmake　it。　Her　festive　genius　was　still　so　alive　then　that　when　she　received　new　records　she　would　invite　Gaston　to　stay　in　the　parlor　until　very　late　to　practice　the　dance　steps　that　her　schoolmates　described　to　her　in　sketches　and　they　would　generally　end　up　making　love　on　the　Viennese　rocking　chairs　or　on　the　bare　floor。　The　only　thing　that　she　needed　to　be　pletely　happy　was　the　birth　of　her　children；　but　she　respected　the　pact　she　had　made　with　her　husband　not　to　have　any　until　they　had　been　married　for　five　years。
　　　Looking　for　something　to　fill　his　idle　hours　with；　Gaston　became　accustomed　to　spending　the　morning　in　Melquíades？room　with　the　shy　Aureliano。　He　took　pleasure　in　recalling　with　him　the　most　hidden　corners　of　his　country；　which　Aureliano　knew　as　if　he　had　spent　much　time　there。　When　Gaston　asked　him　what　he　had　done　to　obtain　knowledge　that　was　not　in　the　encyclopedia；　he　received　the　same　answer　as　Jos？Arcadio：　“Everything　Is　known。？In　addition　to　Sanskrit　he　had　learned　English　and　French　and　a　little　Latin　and　Greek。　Since　he　went　out　every　afternoon　at　that　time　and　Amaranta　？rsula　had　set　aside　a　weekly　sum　for　him　for　his　personal　expenses；　his　room　looked　like　a　branch　of　the　wise　Catalonian’s　bookstore。　He　read　avidly　until　late　at　night；　although　from　the　manner　in　which　he　referred　to　his　reading；　Gaston　thought　that　he　did　not　buy　the　books　in　order　to　learn　but　to　verify　the　truth　of　his　knowledge；　and　that　none　of　them　interested　him　more　than　the　parchments；　to　which　he　dedicated　most　of　his　time　in　the　morning。　Both　Gaston　and　his　wife　would　have　liked　to　incorporate　him　into　the　family　life；　but　Aureliano　was　a　hermetic　man　with　a　cloud　of　mystery　that　time　was　making　denser。　It　was　such　an　unfathomable　condition　that　Gaston　failed　in　his　efforts　to　bee　intimate　with　him　and　had　to　seek　other　pastimes　for　his　idle　hours。　It　was　around　that　time　that　he　conceived　the　idea　of　establishing　an　airmail　service。
　　　It　was　not　a　new　project。　Actually；　he　had　it　fairly　well　advanced　when　he　met　Amaranta　？rsula；　except　that　it　was　not　for　Macondo；　but　for　the　Belgian　Congo；　where　his　family　had　investments　in　palm　oil。　The　marriage　and　the　decision　to　spend　a　few　months　in　Macondo　to　please　his　wife　had　obliged　him　to　postpone　it。　But　when　he　saw　that　Amaranta　？rsula　was　determined　to　anize　a　mission　for　public　improvement　and　even　laughed　at　him　when　he　hinted　at　the　possibility　of　returning；　he　understood　that　things　were　going　to　take　a　long　time　and　he　reestablished　contact　with　his　fotten　partners　in　Brussels；　thinking　that　it　was　just　as　well　to　be　a　pioneer　in　the　Caribbean　as　in　Africa。　While　his　steps　were　progressing　he　prepared　a　landing　field　in　the　old　enchanted　region　which　at　that　time　looked　like　a　plain　of　crushed　flintstone；　and　he　studied　the　wind　direction；　the　geography　of　the　coastal　region；　and　the　best　routes　for　aerial　navigation；　without　knowing　that　his　diligence；　so　similar　to　that　of　Mr。　Herbert；　was　filling　the　town　with　the　dangerous　suspicion　that　his　plan　was　not　to　set　up　routes　but　to　plant　banana　trees。　Enthusiastic　over　the　idea　that；　after　all；　might　justify　his　permanent　establishment　in　Macondo；　he　took　several　trips　to　the　capital　of　the　province；　met　with　authorities；　obtained　licenses；　and　drew　up　contracts　for　exclusive　rights。　In　the　meantime　he　maintained　a　correspondence　with　his　partners　in　Brussels　which　resembled　that　of　Fernanda　with　the　invisible　doctors；　and　he　finally　convinced　them　to　ship　the　first　airplane　under　the　care　of　an　expert　mechanic；　who　would　assemble　it　in　the　nearest　port　and　fly　it　to　Macondo。　One　year　after　his　first　meditations　and　meteorological　calculations；　trusting　in　the　repeated　promises　of　his　correspondents；　he　had　acquired　the　habit　of　strolling　through　the　streets；　looking　at　the　sky；　hanging　onto　the　sound　of　the　breeze　in　hopes　that　the　airplane　would　appear。
　　　Although　she　had　not　noticed　it；　the　return　of　Amaranta　？rsula　had　brought　on　a　radical　change　in　Aureliano’s　life。　After　the　death　of　Jos？Arcadio　he　had　bee　a　regular　customer　at　the　wise　Catalonian’s　bookstore。　Also；　the　freedom　that　he　enjoyed　then　and　the　time　at　his　disposal　awoke　in　him　a　certain　curiosity　about　the　town；　which　he　came　to　know　without　any　surprise。　He　went　through　the　dusty　and　solitary　streets；　examining　with　scientific　interest　the　inside　of　houses　in　ruin；　the　metal　screens　on　the　windows　broken　by　rust　and　the　dying　birds；　and　the　inhabitants　bowed　down　by　memories。　He　tried　to　reconstruct　in　his　imagination　the　annihilated　splendor　of　the　old　bananapany　town；　whose　dry　swimming　pool　was　filled　to　the　brim　with　rotting　men’s　and　women’s　shoes；　and　in　the　houses　of　which；　destroyed　by　rye　grass；　he　found　the　skeleton　of　a　German　shepherd　dog　still　tied　to　a　ring　by　a　steel　chain　and　a　telephone　that　was　ringing；　ringing；　ringing　until　he　picked　it　up　and　an　anguished　and　distant　woman　spoke　in　English；　and　he　said　yes；　that　the　strike　was　over；　that　three　thousand　dead　people　had　been　thrown　into　the　sea；　that　the　banana　pany　had　left；　and　that　Macondo　finally　had　peace　after　many　years。　Those　wanderings　led　him　to　the　prostrate　redlight　district；　where　in　other　times　bundles　of　banknotes　had　been　burned　to　liven　up　the　revels；　and　which　at　that　time　was　a　maze　of　streets　more　afflicted　and　miserable　than　the　others；　with　a　few　red　lights　still　burning　and　with　deserted　dance　halls　adorned　with　the　remnants　of　wreaths；　where　the　pale；　fat　widows　of　no　one；　the　French　greatgrandmothers　and　the　Babylonian　matriarchs；　were　still　waiting　beside　their　photographs。　Aureliano　could　not　find　anyone　who　remembered　his　family；　not　even　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　except　for　the　oldest　of　the　West　Indian　Negroes；　an　old　man　whose　cottony　hair　gave　him　the　look　of　a　photographic　negative　and　who　was　still　singing　the　mournful　sunset　psalms　in　the　door　of　his　house。　Aureliano　would　talk　to　him　in　the　tortured　Papiamento　that　he　had　learned　in　a　few　weeks　and　sometimes　he　would　share　his　chickenhead　soup；　prepared　by　the　greatgranddaughter；　with　him。　She　was　a　large　black　woman　with　solid　bones；　the　hips　of　a　mare；　teats　like　live　melons；　and　a　round　and　perfect　head　armored　with　a　hard　surface　of　wiry　hair　which　looked　like　a　medieval　warrior’s　mail　headdress。　Her　name　was　Nigromanta。　In　those　days　Aureliano　lived　off　the　sale　of　silverware；　candlesticks；　and　other　bricabrac　from　the　house。　When　he　was　penniless；　which　was　most　of　the　time；　he　got　people　in　the　back　of　the　market　to　give　him　the　chicken　heads　that　they　were　going　to　throw　away　and　he　would　take　them　to　Nigromanta　to　make　her　soups；　fortified　with　purslane　and　seasoned　with　mint。　When　the　greatgrandfather　died　Aureliano　stopped　going　by　the　house；　but　he　would　run　into　Nigromanta　under　the　dark　almond　trees　on　the　square；　using　her　wildanimal　whistles　to　lure　the　few　night　owls。　Many　times　he　stayed　with　her；　speaking　in　Papiamento　about　chickenhead　soup　and　other　dainties　of　misery；　and　he　would　have　kept　right　on　if　she　had　not　let　him　know　that　his　presence　frig