百年孤独(英文版)-第38部分

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king　that　his　authority　as　his　former　boss　would　make　him　desist　from　his　plans；　but　Petra　Cotes　convinced　him　that　it　was　a　woman’s　business；　so　he　was　left　floating　in　a　limbo　of　indecision；　barely　sustained　by　the　hope　that　the　confinement　would　put　an　end　to　his　daughter’s　troubles。
　　　Meme　showed　no　signs　of　affliction。　On　the　contrary；　from　the　next　room　？rsula　perceived　the　peaceful　rhythm　of　her　sleep；　the　serenity　of　her　tasks；　the　order　of　her　meals；　and　the　good　health　of　her　digestion。　The　only　thing　that　intrigued　？rsula　after　almost　two　months　of　punishment　was　that　Meme　did　not　take　a　bath　in　the　morning　like　everyone　else；　but　at　seven　in　the　evening。　Once　she　thought　of　warning　her　about　the　scorpions；　but　Meme　was　so　distant；　convinced　that　she　had　given　her　away；　that　she　preferred　not　to　disturb　her　with　the　impertinences；　of　a　greatgreatgrandmother。　The　yellow　butterflies　would　invade　the　house　at　dusk。　Every　night　on　her　way　back　from　her　bath　Meme　would　find　a　desperate　Fernanda　killing　butterflies　with　an　insecticide　bomb。　“This　is　terrible；？she　would　say；　“All　my　life　they　told　me　that　butterflies　at　night　bring　bad　luck。？One　night　while　Meme　was　in　the　bathroom；　Fernanda　went　into　her　bedroom　by　chance　and　there　were　so　many　butterflies　that　she　could　scarcely　breathe。　She　grabbed　for　the　nearest　piece　of　cloth　to　shoo　them　away　and　her　heart　froze　with　terror　as　she　connected　her　daughter’s　evening　baths　with　the　mustard　plasters　that　rolled　onto　the　floor。　She　did　not　wait　for　an　opportune　moment　as　she　had　the　first　time。　On　the　following　day　she　invited　the　new　mayor　to　lunch。　Like　her；　he　had　e　down　from　the　highlands；　and　she　asked　him　to　station　a　guard　in　the　backyard　because　she　had　the　impression　that　hens　were　being　stolen。　That　night　the　guard　brought　down　Mauricio　Babilonia　as　he　was　lifting　up　the　tiles　to　get　into　the　bathroom　where　Meme　was　waiting　for　him；　naked　and　trembling　with　love　among　the　scorpions　and　butterflies　as　she　had　done　almost　every　night　for　the　past　few　months。　A　bullet　lodged　in　his　spinal　column　reduced　him　to　his　bed　for　the　rest　of　his　life。　He　died　of　old　age　in　solitude；　without　a　moan；　without　a　protest；　without　a　single　moment　of　betrayal；　tormented　by　memories　and　by　the　yellow　butterflies；　who　did　not　give　him　a　moment’s　peace；　and　ostracized　as　a　chicken　thief。

Chapter　15
THE　EVENTS　that　would　deal　Macondo　its　fatal　blow　were　just　showing　themselves　when　they　brought　Meme　Buendía’s　son　home。　The　public　situation　was　so　uncertain　then　that　no　one　had　sufficient　spirit　to　bee　involved　with　private　scandals；　so　that　Fernanda　was　able　to　count　on　an　atmosphere　that　enabled　her　to　keep　the　child　hidden　as　if　he　had　never　existed。　She　had　to　take　him　in　because　the　circumstances　under　which　they　brought　him　made　rejection　impossible。　She　had　to　tolerate　him　against　her　will　for　the　rest　of　her　life　because　at　the　moment　of　truth　she　lacked　the　courage　to　go　through　with　her　inner　determination　to　drown　him　in　the　bathroom　cistern。　She　locked　him　up　in　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía’s　old　workshop。　She　succeeded　in　convincing　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　that　she　had　found　him　floating　in　a　basket。　？rsula　would　die　without　ever　knowing　his　origin。　Little　Amaranta　？rsula；　who　went　into　the　workshop　once　when　Fernanda　was　feeding　the　child；　also　believed　the　version　of　the　floating　basket。　Aureliano　Segundo；　having　broken　finally　with　his　wife　because　of　the　irrational　way　in　which　she　handled　Meme’s　tragedy；　did　not　know　of　the　existence　of　his　grandson　until　three　years　after　they　brought　him　home；　when　the　child　escaped　from　captivity　through　an　oversight　on　Fernanda’s　part　and　appeared　on　the　porch　for　a　fraction　of　a　second；　naked；　with　matted　hair；　and　with　an　impressive　sex　an　that　was　like　a　turkey’s　wattles；　as　if　he　were　not　a　human　child　but　the　encyclopedia　definition　of　a　cannibal。
　　　Fernanda　had　not　counted　on　that　nasty　trick　of　her　incorrigible　fate。　The　child　was　like　the　return　of　a　shame　that　she　had　thought　exiled　by　her　from　the　house　forever。　As　soon　as　they　carried　off　Mauricio　Babilonia　with　his　shattered　spinal　column；　Fernanda　had　worked　out　the　most　minute　details　of　a　plan　destined　to　wipe　out　all　traces　of　the　burden。　Without　consulting　her　husband；　she　packed　her　bags；　put　the　three　changes　of　clothing　that　her　daughter　would　need　into　a　small　suitcase；　and　went　to　get　her　in　her　bedroom　a　half　hour　before　the　train　arrived。
　　　“Let’s　go；　Renata；？she　told　her。
　　　She　gave　no　explanation。　Meme；　for　her　part；　did　not　expect　or　want　any。　She　not　only　did　not　know　where　they　were　going；　but　it　would　have　been　the　same　to　her　if　they　had　been　taking　her　to　the　slaughterhouse。　She　had　not　spoken　again　nor　would　she　do　so　for　the　rest　of　her　life　from　the　time　that　she　heard　the　shot　in　the　backyard　and　the　simultaneous　cry　of　pain　from　Mauricio　Babilonia。　When　her　mother　ordered　her　out　of　the　bedroom　she　did　not　b　her　hair　or　wash　her　face　and　she　got　into　the　train　as　if　she　were　walking　in　her　sleep；　not　even　noticing　the　yellow　butterflies　that　were　still　acpanying　her。　Fernanda　never　found　out　nor　did　she　take　the　trouble　to；　whether　that　stony　silence　was　a　determination　of　her　will　or　whether　she　had　bee　mute　because　of　the　impact　of　the　tragedy。　Meme　barely　took　notice　of　the　journey　through　the　formerly　enchanted　region。　She　did　not　see　the　shady；　endless　banana　groves　on　both　sides　of　the　tracks。　She　did　not　see　the　white　houses　of　the　gringos　or　their　gardens；　dried　out　by　dust　and　heat；　or　the　women　in　shorts　and　bluestriped　shirts　playing　cards　on　the　terraces。　She　did　not　see　the　oxcarts　on　the　dusty　roads　loaded　down　with　bunches　of　bananas。　She　did　not　see　the　girls　diving　into　the　transparent　rivers　like　tarpons；　leaving　the　passengers　on　the　train　with　the　bitterness　of　their　splendid　breasts；　or　the　miserable　huts　of　the　workers　all　huddled　together　where　Mauricio　Babilonia’s　yellow　butterflies　fluttered　about　and　in　the　doorways　of　which　there　were　green　and　squalid　children　sitting　on　their　pots；　and　pregnant　women　who　shouted　insults　at　the　train。　That　fleeting　vision；　which　had　been　a　celebration　for　her　when　she　came　home　from　school；　passed　through　Meme’s　heart　without　a　quiver。　She　did　not　look　out　of　the　window；　not　even　when　the　burning　dampness　of　the　groves　ended　and　the　train　went　through　a　poppyladen　plain　where　the　carbonized　skeleton　of　the　Spanish　galleon　still　sat　and　then　came　out　into　the　dear　air　alongside　the　frothy；　dirty　sea　where　almost　a　century　before　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　illusions　had　met　defeat。
　　　At　five　o’clock　in　the　afternoon；　when　they　had　e　to　the　last　station　in　the　swamp；　she　got　out　of　the　train　because　Fernanda　made　her。　They　got　into　a　small　carriage　that　looked　like　an　enormous　bat；　drawn　by　an　asthmatic　horse；　and　they　went　through　the　desolate　city　in　the　endless　streets　of　which；　split　by　saltiness；　there　was　the　sound　of　a　piano　lesson　just　like　the　one　that　Fernanda　heard　during　the　siestas　of　her　adolescence。　They　went　on　board　a　riverboat；　the　wooden　wheel　of　which　had　a　sound　of　conflagration；　and　whose　rusted　metal　plates　reverberated　like　the　mouth　of　an　oven。　Meme　shut　herself　up　in　her　cabin。　Twice　a　day　Fernanda　left　a　plate　of　food　by　her　bed　and　twice　a　day　she　took　it　away　intact；　not　because　Meme　had　resolved　to　die　of　hunger；　but　because　even　the　smell　of　food　was　repugnant　to　her　and　her　stomach　rejected　even　water。　Not　even　she　herself　knew　that　her　fertility　had　outwitted　the　mustard　vapors；　just　as　Fernanda　did　not　know　until　almost　a　year　later；　when　they　brought　the　child。　In　the　suffocating　cabin；　maddened　by　the　vibration　of　the　metal　plates　and　the　unbearable　stench　of　the　mud　stirred　up　by　the　paddle　wheel；　Meme　lost　track　of　the　days。　Much　time　had　passed　when　she　saw　the　last　yellow　butterfly　destroyed　in　the　blades　of　the　fan　and　she　admitted　as　an　irremediable　truth　that　Mauricio　Babilonia　had　died。　She　did　not　let　herself　be　defeated　by　resignation；　however。　She　kept　on　thinking　about　him　during　the　arduous　muleback　crossing　of　the　hallucinating　plateau　where　Aureliano　Segundo　had　bee　lost　when　he　was　looking　for　the　most　beautiful　woman　who　had　ever　appeared　on　the　face　of　the　earth；　and　when　they　went　over　the　mountains　along　Indian　trails　and　entered　the　gloomy　city　in　whose　stone　alleys　the　funereal　bronze　bells　of　thirtytwo　churches　tolled。　That　night　they　slept　in　the　abandoned　colonial　mansion　on　boards　that　Fernanda　laid　on　the　floor　of　a　room　invaded　by　weeds；　wrapped　in　the　shreds　of　curtains　that　they　pulled　off　the　windows　and　that　fell　to　pieces　with　every　turn　of　the　body。　Meme　knew　where　they　were　because　in　the　flight　of　her　insomnia　she　saw　pass　by　the　gentleman　dressed　in　black　whom　they　delivered　to　the　house　inside　a　lead　box　on　one　distant　Christmas　Eve。　On　the　following　day；　after　mass；　Fernanda　took　her　to　a　somber　building　that　Meme　recognized　immediately　from　her　mother’s　stories　of　the　convent　where　they　had　raised　her　to　be　a　queen；　and　then　she　understood　that　they　had　e　to　the　end　of　the　journey。　While　Fernanda　was　speaking　to　someone　in　the　office　next　door；　Meme　remained　in　a　parlor　checkered　with　large　oil　paintings　of　colonial　archbishops；　still　wearing　an　etamine　dress　with　small　black　flowers　and　stiff　high　shoes　which　were　swollen　by　the　cold　of　the　uplands。　She　was　standing　in　the　center　of　the　parlor　thinking　about　Mauricio　Babilonia　under　the　yellow　stream　of　light　from　the　stained　glass　windows　when　a　very　beautiful　novice　came　out　of　the　office　carrying　her　suitcase　with　the　three　changes　of　clothing。　As　she　passed　Meme　she　took　her　hand　without　stopping。
　　　“e；　Renata；？she　said　to　her。
　　　Meme　took　her　hand　and　let　herself　be　led。　The　last　time　that　Fernanda　saw　her；　trying　to　keep　up　with　the　novice；　the　iron　grating　of　the　cloister　had　just　closed　behind　her。　She　was　still　thinking　about　Mauricio　Babilonia；　his　smell　of　grease；　and　his　halo　of　butterflies；　and　she　would　keep　on　thinking　about　him　for　all　the　days　of　her　life　until　the　remote　autumn　morning　when　she　died　of　old　age；　with　her　name　changed　and　her　head　shaved　and　without　ever　having　spoken　a　word；　in　a　gloomy　hospital　in　Cracow。
　　　Fernanda　returned　to　Macondo　on　a　train　protected　by　armed　police。　During　the　trip　she　noticed　the　tension　of　the　passengers；　the　military　preparations　in　the　towns　along　the　line；　and　an　atmosphere　rarified　by　the　certainty　that　something　serious　was　going　to　happen；　but　she　had　no　information　until　she　reached　Macondo　and　they　told　her　that　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　inciting　the　workers　of　the　banana　pany　to　strike。　“That’s　all　we　need；？Fernanda　said　to　herself。　“An　anarchist　in　the　family。？The　strike　broke　out　two　weeks　later　and　it　did　not　have　the　dramatic　consequences　that　had　been　feared。　The　workers　demanded　that　they　not　be　obliged　to　cut　and　load　bananas　on　Sundays；　and　the　position　seemed　so　just　that　even　Father　Antonio　Isabel　interceded　in　its　favor　because　he　found　it　in　accordance　with　the　laws　of　God。　That　victory；　along　with　other　actions　that　were　initiated　during　the　following　months；　drew　the　colorless　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　out　of　his　anonymity；　for　people　had　been　accustomed　to　say　that　he　was　only　good　for　filling　up　the　town　with　French　whores。　With　the　same　impulsive　decision　with　which　he　had　auctioned　off　his　fighting　cocks　in　order　to　anize　a　harebrained　boat　business；　he　gave　up　his　position　as　foreman　in　the　banana　pany　and　took　the　side　of　the　workers。　Quite　soon　he　was　pointed　out　as　the　agent　of　an　international　conspiracy　against　public　order。　One　night；　during　the　course　of　a　week　darkened　by　somber　rumors；　he　miraculously　escaped　four　revolver　shots　taken　at　him　by　an　unknown　party　as　he　was　leaving　a　secret　meeting。　The　atmosphere　of　the　following　months　was　so　tense　that　even　？rsula　perceived　it　in　her　dark　corner；　and　she　had　the　impression　that　once　more　she　was　living　through　the　dangerous　times　when　her　son　Aureliano　carried　the　homeopathic　pills　of　subversion　in　his　pocket。　She　tried　to　speak　to　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　to　let　him　know　about　that　precedent；　but　Aureliano　Segundo　told　her　that　since　the　night　of　the　attempt　on　his　life　no　one　knew　his　whereabouts。
　　　“Just　like　Aureliano；？？rsula　exclaimed。　“It’s　as　if　the　world　were　repeating　itself。？
　　　Fernanda；　was　immune　to　the　uncertainty　of　those　days。　She　had　no　contact　with　the　outside　world　since　the　violent　altercation　she　had　had　with　her　husband　over　her　having　decided　Memes　fate　without　his　consent。　Aureliano　Segundo　was　prepared　to　rescue　his　daughter　with　the　help　of　the　police　if　necessary；　but　Fernanda　showed　him　some　papers　that　were　proof　that　she　had　entered　the　convent　of　her　own　free　will。　Meme　had　indeed　signed　once　she　was　already　behind　the　iron　grating　and　she　did　it　with　the　same　indifference　with　which　she　had　allowed　herself　to　be　led　away。　Underneath　it　all；　Aureliano　Segundo　did　not　believe　in　the　legitimacy　of　the　proof。　Just　as　he　never　believed　that　Mauricio　Babilonia　had　gone　into　the　yard　to　steal　chickens；　but　both　expedients　served　to　ease　his　conscience；　and　thus　he　could　go　back　without　remorse　under　the　shadow　of　Petra　Cotes；　where　he　revived　his　noisy　revelry　and　unlimited　gourmandizing。　Foreign　to　the　restlessness　of　the　town；　deaf　to　？rsula’s　quiet　predictions。　Fernanda　gave　the　last　tam　to　the　screw　of　her　preconceived　plan。　She　wrote　a　long　letter　to　her　son　Jos？Arcadio；　who　was　then　about　to　take　his　first　orders；　and　in　it　she　told　him　that　his　sister　Renata　had　expired　in　the　peace　of　the　Lord　and　as　a　consequence　of　the　black　vomit。　Then　she　put　Amaranta　？rsula　under　the　care　of　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　and　dedicated　herself　to　anizing　her　correspondence　with　the　invisible　doctors；　which　had　been　upset　by　Meme’s　trouble。　The　first　thing　that　she　did　was　to　set　a　definite　date　for　the　postponed　telepathic　operation。　But　the　invisible　doctors　answered　her　that　it　was　not　wise　so　long　as　the　state　of　social　agitation　continued　in　Macondo。　She　was　so　urgent　and　so　poorly　Informed　that　she　explained　to　them　In　another　letter　that　there　was　no　such　state　of　agitation　and　that　everything　was　the　result　of　the　lunacy　of　a　brotherinlaw　of　hers　who　was　fiddling　around　at　that　time　in　that　labor　union　nonsense　just　as　he　had　been　involved　with　cockfighting　and　riverboats　before。　They　were　still　not　in　agreement　on　the　hot　Wednesday　when　an　aged　nun　knocked　at　the　door　bearing　a　small　basket　on　her　arm。　When　she　opened　the　door　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　thought　that　it　was　a　gift　and　tried　to　take　the　small　basket　that　was　covered　with　a　lovely　lace　wrap。　But　the　nun　stopped　her　because　she　had　instructions　to　give　it　personally　and　with　the　strictest　secrecy　to　Do？a　Fernanda　del　Carpio　de　Buendía。　It　was　Meme’s　son。　Fernanda’s　former　spiritual　director　explained　to　her　in　a　letter　that　he　had　been　born　two　months　before　and　that　they　had　taken　the　privilege　of　baptizing　him　Aureliano；　for　his　grandfather；　because　his　mother　would　not　open　her　lips　to　tell　them　her　wishes。　Fernanda　rose　up　inside　against　that　trick　of　fate；　but　she　had　sufficient　strength　to　hide　it　in　front　of　the　nun。
　　　“We’ll　tell　them　that　we　found　him　floating　in　the　basket；？she　said　smiling。
　　　“No　one　will　bel