百年孤独(英文版)-第21部分

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that　they’re　fighting　because　they　want　to。？At　two　o’clock　in　the　afternoon；　while　the　earth　trembled　with　the　artillery　fire　from　both　sides；　he　took　leave　of　？rsula　with　the　certainty　that　he　was　fighting　a　losing　battle。
　　　“I　pray　to　God　that　you　won’t　have　Aureliano　in　the　house　tonight；？he　said。　“If　it　does　happen　that　way；　give　him　an　embrace　for　me；　because　I　don’t　expect　ever　to　see　him　again。？
　　　That　night　he　was　captured　when　he　tried　to　escape　from　Macondo；　after　writing　a　long　letter　to　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　in　which　he　reminded　him　of　their　mon　aim　to　humanize　the　war　and　he　wished　him　a　final　victory　over　the　corruption　of　the　militarists　and　the　ambitions　of　the　politicians　in　both　parties。　On　the　following　day　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　lunch　with　him　in　？rsula’s　house；　where　he　was　being　held　until　a　revolutionary　courtmartial　decided　his　fate。　It　was　a　friendly　gathering。　But　while　the　adversaries　fot　the　war　to　remember　things　of　the　past；　？rsula　had　the　gloomy　feeling　that　her　son　was　an　intruder。　She　had　felt　it　ever　since　she　saw　him　e　in　protected　by　a　noisy　military　retinue；　which　turned　the　bedrooms　inside　out　until　they　were　convinced　there　was　no　danger。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　not　only　accepted　it　but　he　gave　strict　orders　that　no　one　should　e　closer　than　ten　feet；　not　even　？rsula；　while　the　members　of　his　escort　finished　placing　guards　about　the　house。　He　was　wearing　an　ordinary　denim　uniform　with　no　insignia　of　any　kind　and　high　boots　with　spurs　that　were　caked　with　mud　and　dried　blood。　On　his　waist　he　wore　a　holster　with　the　flap　open　and　his　hand；　which　was　always　on　the　butt　of　the　pistol；　revealed　the　same　watchful　and　resolute　tension　as　his　look。　His　head；　with　deep　recessions　in　the　hairline　now；　seemed　to　have　been　baked　in　a　slow　oven。　His　face；　tanned　by　the　salt　of　the　Caribbean；　had　acquired　a　metallic　hardness。　He　was　preserved　against　imminent　old　age　by　a　vitality　that　had　something　to　do　with　the　coldness　of　his　insides。　He　was　taller　than　when　he　had　left；　paler　and　bonier；　and　he　showed　the　first　symptoms　of　resistance　to　nostalgia。　“Good　Lord；？？rsula　said　to　herself。　“Now　he　looks　like　a　man　capable　of　anything。？He　was。　The　Aztec　shawl　that　he　brought　Amaranta；　the　remembrances　he　spoke　of　at　lunch；　the　funny　stories　her　told　were　simple　leftovers　from　his　humor　of　a　different　time。　As　soon　as　the　order　to　bury　the　dead　in　a　mon　grave　was　carried　out；　he　assigned　Colonel　Roque　Carnicero　the　minion　of　setting　up　courtsmartial　and　he　went　ahead　with　the　exhausting　task　of　imposing　radical　reforms　which　would　not　leave　a　stone　of　the　reestablished　Conservative　regime　in　place。　“We　have　to　get　ahead　of　the　politicians　in　the　party；？he　said　to　his　aides。　“When　they　open　their　eyes　to　reality　they’ll　find　acplished　facts。？It　was　then　that　he　decided　to　review　the　titles　to　land　that　went　back　a　hundred　years　and　he　discovered　the　legalized　outrages　of　his　brother；　Jos？Arcadio。　He　annulled　the　registrations　with　a　stroke　of　the　pen。　As　a　last　gesture　of　courtesy；　he　left　his　affairs　for　an　hour　and　visited　Rebeca　to　bring　her　up　to　date　on　what　he　was　determined　to　do。
　　　In　the　shadows　of　her　house；　the　solitary　widow　who　at　one　time　had　been　the　confidante　of　his　repressed　loves　and　whose　persistence　had　saved　his　life　was　a　specter　out　of　the　past。　Encased　in　black　down　to　her　knuckles；　with　her　heart　turned　to　ash；　she　scarcely　knew　anything　about　the　war。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　the　impression　that　the　phosphorescence　of　her　bones　was　showing　through　her　skin　and　that　she　moved　in　an　atmosphere　of　Saint　Elmo’s　fire；　in　a　stagnant　air　where　one　could　still　note　a　hidden　smell　of　gunpowder。　He　began　by　advising　her　to　moderate　the　rigor　of　her　mourning；　to　ventilate　the　house；　to　five　the　world　for　the　death　of　Jos？Arcadio。　But　Rebeca　was　already　beyond　any　vanity。　After　searching　for　it　uselessly　in　the　taste　of　earth；　in；　the　perfumed　letters　from　Pietro　Crespi；　in　the　tempestuous　bed　of　her　husband；　she　had　found　peace　in　that　house　where　memories　materialized　through　the　strength　of　implacable　evocation　and　walked　like　human　beings　through　the　cloistered　rooms；　Leaning　back　in　her　wicker　rocking　chair；　looking　at　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　as　if　he　were　the　one　who　looked　like　a　ghost　out　of　the　past；　Rebeca　was　not　even　upset　by　the　news　that　the　lands　usurped　by　Jos？Arcadio　would　be　returned　to　their　rightful　owners。
　　　“Whatever　you　decide　will　be　done；　Aureliano；？she　sighed。　“I　always　thought　and　now　I　have　the　proof　that　you’re　a　renegade。？
　　　The　revision　of　the　deeds　took　place　at　the　same　time　as　the　summary　courtsmartial　presided　over　by　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　which　ended　with　the　execution　of　all　officers　of　the　regular　army　who　had　been　taken　prisoner　by　the　revolutionaries。　The　last　courtmartial　was　that　of　Jos？Raquel　Moncada。　？rsula　intervened。　‘”His　government　was　the　best　we’ve　ever　had　in　Macondo；？she　told　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。　“I　don’t　have　to　tell　you　anything　about　his　good　heart；　about　his　affection　for　us；　because　you　know　better　than　anyone。？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　gave　her　a　disapproving　look。
　　　“I　can’t　take　over　the　job　of　administering　justice；？he　replied。　“If　you　have　something　to　say；　tell　it　to　the　courtmartial。？
　　　？rsula　not　only　did　that　she　also　brought　all　of　the　mothers　of　the　revolutionary　officers　who　lived　in　Macondo　to　testify。　One　by　one　the　old　women　who　had　been　founders　of　the　town；　several　of　whom　had　taken　part　in　the　daring　crossing　of　the　mountains；　praised　the　virtues　of　General　Moncada。　？rsula　was　the　last　in　line。　Her　gloomy　dignity；　the　weight　of　her　name；　the　convincing　vehemence　of　her　declaration　made　the　scale　of　justice　hesitate　for　a　moment。　“You　have　taken　this　horrible　game　very　seriously　and　you　have　done　well　because　you　are　doing　your　duty；？she　told　the　members　of　the　court。　“But　don’t　fet　that　as　long　as　God　gives　us　life　we　will　still　be　mothers　and　no　matter　how　revolutionary　you　may　be；　we　have　the　right　to　pull　down　your　pants　and　give　you　a　whipping　at　the　first　sign　of　disrespect。？The　court　retired　to　deliberate　as　those　words　still　echoed　in　the　school　that　had　been　turned　into　a　barracks。　At　midnight　General　Jos？Raquel　Moncada　was　sentenced　to　death。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　in　spite　of　the　violent　recriminations　of　？rsula；　refused　to　mute　the　sentence。　A　short　while　before　dawn　he　visited　the　condemned　man　in　the　room　used　as　a　cell。
　　　“Remember；　old　friend；？he　told　him。　“I’m　not　shooting　you。　It’s　the　revolution　that’s　shooting　you。？
　　　General　Moncada　did　not　even　get　up　from　the　cot　when　he　saw　him　e　in。
　　　“Go　to　hell；　friend；？he　answered。
　　　Until　that　moment；　ever　since　his　return。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　not　given　himself　the　opportunity　to　see　him　with　his　heart。　He　was　startled　to　see　how　much　he　had　aged；　how　his　hands　shook；　and　the　rather　punctilious　conformity　with　which　he　awaited　death；　and　then　he　felt　a　great　disgust　with　himself；　which　he　mingled　with　the　beginnings　of　pity。
　　　“You　know　better　than　I；？he　said；　“that　all　courtsmartial　are　farces　and　that　you’re　really　paying　for　the　crimes　of　other　people；　because　this　time　we’re　going　to　win　the　war　at　any　price。　Wouldn’t　you　have　done　the　same　in　my　place？？
　　　General　Moncada；　got　up　to　clean　his　thick　hornrimmed　glasses　on　his　shirttail。　“Probably；？he　said。　“But　what　worries　me　is　not　your　shooting　me；　because　after　all；　for　people　like　us　it’s　a　natural　death。？He　laid　his　glasses　on　the　bed　and　took　off　his　watch　and　chain。　“What　worries　me；？he　went　on；　“is　that　out　of　so　much　hatred　for　the　military；　out　of　fighting　them　so　much　and　thinking　about　them　so　much；　you’ve　ended　up　as　bad　as　they　are。　And　no　ideal　in　life　is　worth　that　much　baseness。？He　took　off　his　wedding　ring　and　the　medal　of　the　Virgin　of　Help　and　put　them　alongside　his　glasses　and　watch。
　　　“At　this　rate；？he　concluded；　“you’ll　not　only　be　the　most　despotic　and　bloody　dictator　in　our　history；　but　you’ll　shoot　my　dear　friend　？rsula　in　an　attempt　to　pacify　your　conscience。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　stood　there　impassively。　General　Moncada　then　gave　him　the　glasses；　medal；　watch；　and　ring　and　he　changed　his　tone。
　　　“But　I　didn’t　send　for　you　to　scold　you；？he　said。　“I　wanted　to　ask　you　the　favor　of　sending　these　things　to　my　wife。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　put　them　in　his　pockets。
　　　“Is　she　still　in　Manaure？？
　　　“She’s　still　in　Manaure；？General　Moncada　confirmed；　“in　the　same　house　behind　the　church　where　you　sent　the　letter。？
　　　“I’ll　be　glad　to；　Jos？Raquel；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　said。
　　　When　he　went　out　into　the　blue　air　of　the　mist　his　face　grew　damp　as　on　some　other　dawn　in　the　past　and　only　then　did　he　realize　that　he　had　ordered　the　sentence　to　be　carried　out　in　the　courtyard　and　not　at　the　cemetery　wall。　The　firing　squad；　drawn　up　opposite　the　door；　paid　him　the　honors　of　a　head　of　state。
　　　“They　can　bring　him　out　now；？he　ordered。

Chapter　9
COLONEL　GERINELDO　M？RQUEZ　was　the　first　to　perceive　the　emptiness　of　the　war。　In　his　position　as　civil　and　military　leader　of　Macondo　he　would　have　telegraphic　conversations　twice　a　week　with　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。　At　first　those　exchanges　would　determine　the　course　of　a　fleshandblood　war；　the　perfectly　defined　outlines　of　which　told　them　at　any　moment　the　exact　spot　where　it　was　and　the　prediction　of　its　future　direction。　Although　he　never　let　himself　be　pulled　into　the　area　of　confidences；　not　even　by　his　closest　friends；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　still　had　at　that　time　the　familiar　tone　that　made　it　possible　to　identify　him　at　the　other　end　of　the　wire。　Many　times　he　would　prolong　the　talk　beyond　the　expected　limit　and　let　them　drift　into　ments　of　a　domestic　nature。　Little　by　little；　however；　and　as　the　war　became　more　intense　and　widespread；　his　image　was　fading　away　into　a　universe　of　unreality。　The　characteristics　of　his　speech　were　more　and　more　uncertain；　and　they　cam　together　and　bined　to　form　words　that　were　gradually　losing　all　meaning。　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　limited　himself　then　to　just　listening；　burdened　by　the　impression　that　he　was　in　telegraphic　contact　with　a　stranger　from　another　world。
　　　“I　understand；　Aureliano；？he　would　conclude　on　the　key。　“Long　live　the　Liberal　party！？
　　　He　finally　lost　all　contact　with　the　war。　What　in　other　times　had　been　a　real　activity；　an　irresistible　passion　of　his　youth；　became　a　remote　point　of　reference　for　him：　an　emptiness。　His　only　refuge　was　Amaranta’s　sewing　room。　He　would　visit　her　every　afternoon。　He　liked　to　watch　her　hands　as　she　curled　frothy　petticoat　cloth　in　the　machine　that　was　kept　in　motion　by　Remedios　the　Beauty。　They　spent　many　hours　without　speaking；　content　with　their　reciprocal　pany；　but　while　Amaranta　was　inwardly　pleased　in　keeping　the　fire　of　his　devotion　alive；　he　was　unaware　of　the　secret　designs　of　that　indecipherable　heart。　When　the　news　of　his　return　reached　her；　Amaranta　had　been　smothered　by　anxiety。　But　when　she　saw　him　enter　the　house　in　the　middle　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　noisy　escort　and　she　saw　how　he　had　been　mistreated　by　the　rigors　of　exile；　made　old　by　age　and　oblivion；　dirty　with　sweat　and　dust；　smelling　like　a　herd；　ugly；　with　his　left　arm　in　a　sling；　she　felt　faint　with　disillusionment。　“My　God；？she　thought。　“This　wasn’t　the　person　I　was　waiting　for。？On　the　following　day；　however；　he　came　back　to　the　house　shaved　and　clean；　with　his　mustache　perfumed　with　lavender　water　and　without　the　bloody　sling。　He　brought　her　a　prayerbook　bound　in　motherofpearl。
　　　“How　strange　men　are；？she　said；　because　she　could　not　think　of　anything　else　to　say。　“They　spend　their　lives　fighting　against　priests　and　then　give　prayerbooks　as　gifts。？
　　　From　that　time　on；　even　during　the　most　critical　days　of　the　war；　he　visited　her　every　afternoon。　Many　times；　when　Remedios　the　Beauty　was　not　present；　it　was　he　who　turned　the　wheel　on　the　sewing　machine。　Amaranta　felt　upset　by　the　perseverance；　the　loyalty；　the　submissiveness　of　that　man　who　was　invested　with　so　much　authority　and　who　nevertheless　took　off　his　sidearm　in　the　living　room　so　that　he　could　go　into　the　sewing　room　without　weapons；　But　for　four　years　he　kept　repeating　his　love　and　she　would　always　find　a　way　to　reject　him　without　hurting　him；　for　even　though　she　had　not　succeeded　in　loving　him　she　could　no　longer　live　without　him。　Remedios　the　Beauty；　who　seemed　indifferent　to　everything　and　who　was　thought　to　be　mentally　retarded；　was　not　insensitive　to　so　much　devotion　and　she　intervened　in　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez’s　favor。　Amaranta　suddenly　discovered　that　the　girl　she　had　raised；　who　was　just　entering　adolescence；　was　already　the　most　beautiful　creature　that　had　even　been　seen　in　Macondo。　She　felt　reborn　in　her　heart　the　rancor　that　she　had　felt　in　other　days　for　Rebeca；　and　begging　God　not　to　impel　her　into　the　extreme　state　of　wishing　her　dead；　she　banished　her　from　the　sewing　room。　It　was　around　that　time　that　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　began　to　feel　the　boredom　of　the　war。　He　summoned　his　reserves　of　persuasion；　his　broad　and　repressed　tenderness；　ready　to　give　up　for　Amaranta　a　glory　that　had　cost　him　the　sacrifice　of　his　best　years。　But　he　could　not　succeed　in　convincing　her。　One　August　afternoon；　overe　by　the　unbearable　weight　of　her　own　obstinacy；　Amaranta　locked　herself　in　her　bedroom　to　weep　over　her　solitude　unto　death　after　giving　her　final　answer　to　her　tenacious　suitor：
　　　“Let’s　fet　about　each　other　forever；？she　told　him。　“We’re　too　old　for　this　sort　of　thing　now。？
　　　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　had　a　telegraphic　call　from　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　that　afternoon。　It　was　a　routine　conversation　which　was　not　going　to　bring　about　any　break　in　the　stagnant　war。　At　the　end；　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　looked　at　the　desolate　streets；　the　crystal　water　on　the　almond　trees；　and　he　found　himself　lost　in　solitude。
　　　“Aureliano；？he　said　sadly　on　the　key；　“it’s　raining　in　Macondo。？
　　　There　was　a　long　silence　on　the　line。　Suddenly　the　apparatus　jumped　with　the　pitiless　letters　from　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。
　　　“Don’t　be　a　jackass；　Gerineldo；？the　signals　said。　“It’s　natural　for　it　to　be　raining　in　August。？
　　　They　had　not　seen　each　other　for　such　a　long　time　that　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　was　upset　by　the　aggressiveness　of　the　reaction。　Two　months　later；　however；　when　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　returned　to　Macondo；　his　upset　was　changed　to　stupefaction。　Even　？rsula　was　surprised　at　how　much　he　had　changed。　He　came　with　no　noise；　no　escort；　wrapped　in　a　cloak　in　spite　of　the　heat；　and　with　three　mistresses；　whom　he　installed　in　the　same　house；　where　he　spent　most　of　his　time　lying　in　a　hammock。　He　scarcely　read　the　telegraphic　dispatches　that　reported　routine　operations。　On　one　occasion　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　asked　him　for　instructions　for　the　evacuation　of　a　spot　on　the　border　where　there　was　a　danger　that　the　conflict　would　bee　an　international　affair。
　　　“Don’t　bother　me　with　trifles；？he　ordered　him。　“Consult　Divine　Providence。？
　　　It　was　perhaps　the　most　critical　moment　of　the　war。　The　Liberal　landowners；　who　had　supported　the　revolution　in　the　beginning；　had　made　secret　alliances　with　the　Conservative　landowners　in　order