百年孤独(英文版)-第3部分

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fferent　to　those　who　came　close　to　look　at　him；　he　kept　his　attention　concentrated　on　the　palm　roof；　which　looked　as　if　it　were　about　to　collapse　under　the　tremendous　pressure　of　the　rain。　？rsula　did　not　remember　the　intensity　of　that　look　again　until　one　day　when　little　Aureliano；　at　the　age　of　three；　went　into　the　kitchen　at　the　moment　she　was　taking　a　pot　of　boiling　soup　from　the　stove　and　putting　it　on　the　table。　The　child；　Perplexed；　said　from　the　doorway；　“It’s　going　to　spill。？The　pot　was　firmly　placed　in　the　center　of　the　table；　but　just　as　soon　as　the　child　made　his　announcement；　it　began　an　unmistakable　movement　toward　the　edge；　as　if　impelled　by　some　inner　dynamism；　and　it　fell　and　broke　on　the　floor。　？rsula；　alarmed；　told　her　husband　about　the　episode；　but　he　interpreted　it　as　a　natural　phenomenon。　That　was　the　way　he　always　was　alien　to　the　existence　of　his　sons；　partly　because　he　considered　childhood　as　a　period　of　mental　insufficiency；　and　partly　because　he　was　always　too　absorbed　in　his　fantastic　speculations。
　　　But　since　the　afternoon　when　he　called　the　children　in　to　help　him　unpack　the　things　in　the　laboratory；　he　gave　them　his　best　hours。　In　the　small　separate　room；　where　the　walls　were　gradually　being　covered　by　strange　maps　and　fabulous　drawings；　he　taught　them　to　read　and　write　and　do　sums；　and　he　spoke　to　them　about　the　wonders　of　the　world；　not　only　where　his　learning　had　extended；　but　forcing　the　limits　of　his　imagination　to　extremes。　It　was　in　that　way　that　the　boys　ended　up　learning　that　in　the　southern　extremes　of　Africa　there　were　men　so　intelligent　and　peaceful　that　their　only　pastime　was　to　sit　and　think；　and　that　it　was　possible　to　cross　the　Aegean　Sea　on　foot　by　jumping　from　island　to　island　all　the　way　to　the　port　of　Salonika。　Those　hallucinating　sessions　remained　printed　on　the　memories　of　the　boys　in　such　a　way　that　many　years　later；　a　second　before　the　regular　army　officer　gave　the　firing　squad　the　mand　to　fire；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　saw　once　more　that　warm　March　afternoon　on　which　his　father　had　interrupted　the　lesson　in　physics　and　stood　fascinated；　with　his　hand　in　the　air　and　his　eyes　motionless；　listening　to　the　distant　pipes；　drums；　and　jingles　of　the　gypsies；　who　were　ing　to　the　village　once　more；　announcing　the　latest　and　most　startling　discovery　of　the　sages　of　Memphis。
　　　They　were　new　gypsies；　young　men　and　women　who　knew　only　their　own　language；　handsome　specimens　with　oily　skins　and　intelligent　hands；　whose　dances　and　music　sowed　a　panic　of　uproarious　joy　through　the　streets；　with　parrots　painted　all　colors　reciting　Italian　arias；　and　a　hen　who　laid　a　hundred　golden　eggs　to　the　sound　of　a　tambourine；　and　a　trained　monkey　who　read　minds；　and　the　multiuse　machine　that　could　be　used　at　the　same　time　to　sew　on　buttons　and　reduce　fevers；　and　the　apparatus　to　make　a　person　fet　his　bad　memories；　and　a　poultice　to　lose　time；　and　a　thousand　more　inventions　so　ingenious　and　unusual　that　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　must　have　wanted　to　invent　a　memory　machine　so　that　he　could　remember　them　all。　In　an　instant　they　transformed　the　village。　The　inhabitants　of　Macondo　found　themselves　lost　is　their　own　streets；　confused　by　the　crowded　fair。
　　　Holding　a　child　by　each　hand　so　as　not　to　lose　them　in　the　tumult；　bumping　into　acrobats　with　goldcapped　teeth　and　jugglers　with　six　arms；　suffocated　by　the　mingled　breath　of　manure　and　sandals　that　the　crowd　exhaled；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　went　about　everywhere　like　a　madman；　looking　for　Melquíades　so　that　he　could　reveal　to　him　the　infinite　secrets　of　that　fabulous　nightmare。　He　asked　several　gypsies；　who　did　not　understand　his　language。　Finally　he　reached　the　place　where　Melquíades　used　to　set　up　his　tent　and　he　found　a　taciturn　Armenian　who　in　Spanish　was　hawking　a　syrup　to　make　oneself　invisible。　He　had　drunk　down　a　glass　of　the　amber　substance　in　one　gulp　as　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　elbowed　his　way　through　the　absorbed　group　that　was　witnessing　the　spectacle；　and　was　able　to　ask　his　question。　The　gypsy　wrapped　him　in　the　frightful　climate　of　his　look　before　he　turned　into　a　puddle　of　pestilential　and　smoking　pitch　over　which　the　echo　of　his　reply　still　floated：　“Melquíades　is　dead。？Upset　by　the　news；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　stood　motionless；　trying　to　rise　above　his　affliction；　until　the　group　dispersed；　called　away　by　other　artifices；　and　the　puddle　of　the　taciturn　Armenian　evaporated　pletely。　Other　gypsies　confirmed　later　on　that　Melquíades　had　in　fact　succumbed　to　the　fever　on　the　beach　at　Singapore　and　that　his　body　had　been　thrown　into　the　deepest　part　of　the　Java　Sea。　The　children　had　no　interest　in　the　news。　They　insisted　that　their　father　take　them　to　see　the　overwhelming　novelty　of　the　sages　of　Memphis　that　was　being　advertised　at　the　entrance　of　a　tent　that；　according　to　what　was　said；　had　belonged　to　King　Solomon。　They　insisted　so　much　that　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　paid　the　thirty　reales　and　led　them　into　the　center　of　the　tent；　where　there　was　a　giant　with　a　hairy　torso　and　a　shaved　head；　with　a　copper　ring　in　his　nose　and　a　heavy　iron　chain　on　his　ankle；　watching　over　a　pirate　chest。　When　it　was　opened　by　the　giant；　the　chest　gave　off　a　glacial　exhalation。　Inside　there　was　only　an　enormous；　transparent　block　with　infinite　internal　needles　in　which　the　light　of　the　sunset　was　broken　up　into　colored　stars。　Disconcerted；　knowing　that　the　children　were　waiting　for　an　immediate　explanation；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　ventured　a　murmur：
　　　“It’s　the　largest　diamond　in　the　world。？
　　　“No；？the　gypsy　countered。　“It’s　ice。？
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　without　understanding；　stretched　out　his　hand　toward　the　cake；　but　the　giant　moved　it　away。　“Five　reales　more　to　touch　it；？he　said。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　paid　them　and　put　his　hand　on　the　ice　and　held　it　there　for　several　minutes　as　his　heart　filled　with　fear　and　jubilation　at　the　contact　with　mystery。　Without　knowing　what　to　say；　he　paid　ten　reales　more　so　that　his　sons　could　have　that　prodigious　experience。　Little　Jos？Arcadio　refused　to　touch　it。　Aureliano；　on　the　other　hand；　took　a　step　forward　and　put　his　hand　on　it；　withdrawing　it　immediately。　“It’s　boiling；？he　exclaimed；　startled。　But　his　father　paid　no　attention　to　him。　Intoxicated　by　the　evidence　of　the　miracle；　he　fot　at　that　moment　about　the　frustration　of　his　delirious　undertakings　and　Melquíades？body；　abandoned　to　the　appetite　of　the　squids。　He　paid　another　five　reales　and　with　his　hand　on　the　cake；　as　if　giving　testimony　on　the　holy　scriptures；　he　exclaimed：
　　　“This　is　the　great　invention　of　our　time。？

Chapter　2
WHEN　THE　PIRATE　Sir　Francis　Drake　attacked　Riohacha　in　the　sixteenth　century；　？rsula　Iguarán’s　greatgreatgrandmother　became　so　frightened　with　the　ringing　of　alarm　bells　and　the　firing　of　cannons　that　she　lost　control　of　her　nerves　and　sat　down　on　a　lighted　stove。　The　burns　changed　her　into　a　useless　wife　for　the　rest　of　her　days。　She　could　only　sit　on　one　side；　cushioned　by　pillows；　and　something　strange　must　have　happened　to　her　way　of　walking；　for　she　never　walked　again　in　public。　She　gave　up　all　kinds　of　social　activity；　obsessed　with　the　notion　that　her　body　gave　off　a　singed　odor。　Dawn　would　find　her　in　the　courtyard；　for　she　did　not　dare　fall　asleep　lest　she　dream　of　the　English　and　their　ferocious　attack　dogs　as　they　came　through　the　windows　of　her　bedroom　to　submit　her　to　shameful　tortures　with　their　redhot　irons。　Her　husband；　an　Aragonese　merchant　by　whom　she　had　two　children；　spent　half　the　value　of　his　store　on　medicines　and　pastimes　in　an　attempt　to　alleviate　her　terror。　Finally　he　sold　the　business　and　took　the　family　to　live　far　from　the　sea　in　a　settlement　of　peaceful　Indians　located　in　the　foothills；　where　he　built　his　wife　a　bedroom　without　windows　so　that　the　pirates　of　her　dream　would　have　no　way　to　get　in。
　　　In　that　hidden　village　there　was　a　nativeborn　tobacco　planter　who　had　lived　there　for　some　time；　Don　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　with　whom　？rsula’s　greatgreatgrandfather　established　a　partnership　that　was　so　lucrative　that　within　a　few　years　they　made　a　fortune。　Several　centuries　later　the　greatgreatgrandson　of　the　nativeborn　planter　married　the　greatgreatgranddaughter　of　the　Aragonese。　Therefore；　every　time　that　？rsula　became　exercised　over　her　husband’s　mad　ideas；　she　would　leap　back　over　three　hundred　years　of　fate　and　curse　the　day　that　Sir　Francis　Drake　had　attacked　Riohacha。　It　was　simply　a　way。　of　giving　herself　some　relief；　because　actually　they　were　joined　till　death　by　a　bond　that　was　more　solid　that　love：　a　mon　prick　of　conscience。　They　were　cousins。　They　had　grown　up　together　in　the　old　village　that　both　of　their　ancestors；　with　their　work　and　their　good　habits；　had　transformed　into　one　of　the　finest　towns　in　the　province。　Although　their　marriage　was　predicted　from　the　time　they　had　e　into　the　world；　when　they　expressed　their　desire　to　be　married　their　own　relatives　tried　to　stop　it。　They　were　afraid　that　those　two　healthy　products　of　two　races　that　had　interbred　over　the　centuries　would　suffer　the　shame　of　breeding　iguanas。　There　had　already　been　a　horrible　precedent。　An　aunt　of　？rsula’s；　married　to　an　uncle　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　had　a　son　who　went　through　life　wearing　loose；　baggy　trousers　and　who　bled　to　death　after　having　lived　fortytwo　years　in　the　purest　state　of　virginity；　for　he　had　been　born　and　had　grown　up　with　a　cartilaginous　tail　in　the　shape　of　a　corkscrew　and　with　a　small　tuft　of　hair　on　the　tip。　A　pig’s　tail　that　was　never　allowed　to　be　seen　by　any　woman　and　that　cost　him　his　life　when　a　butcher　friend　did　him　the　favor　of　chopping　it　off　with　his　cleaver。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　with　the　whimsy　of　his　nineteen　years；　resolved　the　problem　with　a　single　phrase：　“I　don’t　care　if　I　have　piglets　as　long　as　they　can　talk。？So　they　were　married　amidst　a　festival　of　fireworks　and　a　brass　band　that　went　on　for　three　days。　They　would　have　been　happy　from　then　on　if　？rsula’s　mother　had　not　terrified　her　with　all　manner　of　sinister　predictions　about　their　offspring；　even　to　the　extreme　of　advising　her　to　refuse　to　consummate　the　marriage。　Fearing　that　her　stout　and　willful　husband　would　rape　her　while　she　slept；　？rsula；　before　going　to　bed；　would　put　on　a　rudimentary　kind　of　drawers　that　her　mother　had　made　out　of　sailcloth　and　had　reinforced　with　a　system　of　crisscrossed　leather　straps　and　that　was　closed　in　the　front　by　a　thick　iron　buckle。　That　was　how　they　lived　for　several　months。　During　the　day　he　would　take　care　of　his　fighting　cocks　and　she　would　do　frame　embroidery　with　her　mother。　At　night　they　would　wrestle　for　several　hours　in　an　anguished　violence　that　seemed　to　be　a　substitute　for　the　act　of　love；　until　popular　intuition　got　a　whiff　of　something　irregular　and　the　rumor　spread　that　？rsula　was　still　a　virgin　a　year　after　her　marriage　because　her　husband　was　impotent。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　the　last　one　to　hear　the　rumor。
　　　“Look　at　what　people　are　going　around　saying；　？rsula；？he　told　his　wife　very　calmly。
　　　“Let　them　talk；？she　said。　“We　know　that　it’s　not　true。？
　　　So　the　situation　went　on　the　same　way　for　another　six　months　until　that　tragic　Sunday　when　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　won　a　cockfight　from　Prudencio　Aguilar。　Furious；　aroused　by　the　blood　of　his　bird；　the　loser　backed　away　from　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　so　that　everyone　in　the　cockpit　could　hear　what　he　was　going　to　tell　him。
　　　“Congratulations！？he　shouted。　“Maybe　that　rooster　of　yours　can　do　your　wife　a　favor。？
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　serenely　picked　up　his　rooster。　“I’ll　be　right　back；？he　told　everyone。　And　then　to　Prudencio　Aguilar：
　　　“You　go　home　and　get　a　weapon；　because　I’m　going　to　kill　you。？
　　　Ten　minutes　later　he　returned　with　the　notched　spear　that　had　belonged　to　his　grandfather。　At　the　door　to　the　cockpit；　where　half　the　town　had　gathered；　Prudencio　Aguilar　was　waiting　for　him。　There　was　no　time　to　defend　himself。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　spear；　thrown　with　the　strength　of　a　bull　and　with　the　same　good　aim　with　which　the　first　Aureliano　Buendía　had　exterminated　the　jaguars　in　the　region；　pierced　his　throat。　That　night；　as　they　held　a　wake　over　the　corpse　in　the　cockpit；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　went　into　the　bedroom　as　his　wife　was　putting　on　her　chastity　pants。　Pointing　the　spear　at　her　he　ordered：　“Take　them　off。？？rsula　had　no　doubt　about　her　husband’s　decision。　“You’ll　be　responsible　for　what　happens；？she　murmured。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　stuck　the　spear　into　the　dirt　floor。
　　　“If　you　bear　iguanas；　we’ll　raise　iguanas；？he　said。　“But　there’ll　be　no　more　killings　in　this　town　because　of　you。？
　　　It　was　a　fine　June　night；　cool　and　with　a　moon；　and　they　were　awake　and　frolicking　in　bed　until　dawn；　indifferent　to　the　breeze　that　passed　through　the　bedroom；　loaded　with　the　weeping　of　Prudencio　Aguilar’s　kin。
　　　The　matter　was　put　down　as　a　duel　of　honor；　but　both　of　them　were　left　with　a　twinge　in　their　conscience。　One　night；　when　she　could　not　sleep；　？rsula　went　out　into　the　courtyard　to　get　some　water　and　she　saw　Prudencio　Aguilar　by　the　water　jar。　He　was　livid；　a　sad　expression　on　his　face；　trying　to　cover　the　hole　in　his　throat　with　a　plug　made　of　esparto　grass。　It　did　not　bring　on　fear　in　her；　but　pity。　She　went　back　to　the　room　and　told　her　husband　what　she　had　seen；　but　he　did　not　think　much　of　it。　“This　just　means　that　we　can’t　stand　the　weight　of　our　conscience。？Two　nights　later　？rsula　saw　Prudencio　Aguilar　again；　in　the　bathroom；　using　the　esparto　plug　to　wash　the　clotted　blood　from　his　throat。　On　another　night　she　saw　him　strolling　in　the　rain。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　annoyed　by　his　wife’s　hallucinations；　went　out　into　the　courtyard　armed　with　the　spear。　There　was　the　dead　man　with　his　sad　expression。
　　　“You　go　to　hell；？Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　shouted　at　him。　“Just　as　many　times　as　you　e　back；　I’ll　kill　you　again。？
　　　Prudencio　Aguilar　did　not　go　away；　nor　did　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　dare　throw　the　spear。　He　never　slept　well　after　that。　He　was　tormented　by　the　immense　desolation　with　which　the　dead　man　had　looked　at　him　through　the　rain；　his　deep　nostalgia　as　he　yearned　for　living　people；　the　anxiety　with　which　he　searched　through　the　house　looking　for　some　water　with　which　to　soak　his　esparto　plug。　“He　must　be　suffering　a　great　deal；？he　said　to　？rsula。　“You　can　see　that　he’s　so　very　lonely。？She　was　so　moved　that　the　next　time　she　saw　the　dead　man　uncovering　the　pots　on　the　stove　she　understood　what　he　was　looking　for；　and　from　then　on　she　placed　water　jugs　all　about　the　house。　One　night　when　he　found　him　washing　his　wound　in　his　own　room；　Jos？Anedio　Buendía　could　no　longer　resist。
　　　“It’s　all　right；　Prudencio；？he　told　him。　“We’re　going　to　leave　this　town；　just　as　far　away　as　we　can　go；　and　we’ll　never　e　back。　Go　in　peace　now。？
　　　That　was　how　they　undertook　the　crossing　of　the　mountains。　Several　friends　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　young　men　like　him；　excited；　by　the　adventure；　dismantled　their　houses　and　packed　up；　along　with　their　wives　and　children；　to　head　toward　the　land　that　no　one　had　promised　them。　Before　he　left；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　buried　the　spear　in　the　courtyard　and；　one　after　the　other；　he　cut　the　throats　of　his　magnificent　fighting　cocks；　trusting　that　in　that　way　he　could　give　some　measure　of　peace　to　Prudencio　Aguilar。　All　that　？rsula　took　along　were　a　trunk　with　her　bridal