百年孤独(英文版)-第45部分

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　　　With　？rsula’s　death　the　house　again　fell　into　a　neglect　from　which　it　could　not　be　rescued　even　by　a　will　as　resolute　and　vigorous　as　that　of　Amaranta　？rsula；　who　many　years　later；　being　a　happy；　modern　woman　without　prejudices；　with　her　feet　on　the　ground；　opened　doors　and　windows　in　order　to　drive　away　the　rain；　restored　the　garden；　exterminated　the　red　ants　who　were　already　walking　across　the　porch　in　broad　daylight；　and　tried　in　vain　to　reawaken　the　fotten　spirit　of　hospitality。　Fernanda’s　cloistered　passion　built　in　impenetrable　dike　against　？rsula’s　torrential　hundred　years。　Not　only　did　she　refuse　to　open　doors　when　the　arid　wind　passed　through；　but　she　had　the　windows　nailed　shut　with　boards　in　the　shape　of　a　cross；　obeying　the　paternal　order　of　being　buried　alive。　The　expensive　correspondence　with　the　invisible　doctors　ended　in　failure。　After　numerous　postponements；　she　shut　herself　up　in　her　room　on　the　date　and　hour　agreed　upon；　covered　only　by　a　white　sheet　and　with　her　head　pointed　north；　and　at　one　o’clock　in　the　morning　she　felt　that　they　were　covering　her　head　with　a　handkerchief　soaked　in　a　glacial　liquid。　When　she　woke　up　the　sun　was　shining　in　the　window　and　she　had　a　barbarous　stitch　in　the　shape　of　an　arc　that　began　at　her　crotch　and　ended　at　her　sternum。　But　before　she　could　plete　the　prescribed　rest　she　received　a　disturbed　letter　from　the　invisible　doctors；　who　mid　they　had　inspected　her　for　six　hours　without　finding　anything　that　corresponded　to　the　symptoms　so　many　times　and　so　scrupulously　described　by　her。　Actually；　her　pernicious　habit　of　not　calling　things　by　their　names　had　brought　about　a　new　confusion；　for　the　only　thing　that　the　telepathic　surgeons　had　found　was　a　drop　in　the　uterus　which　could　be　corrected　by　the　use　of　a　pessary。　The　disillusioned　Fernanda　tried　to　obtain　more　precise　information；　but　the　unknown　correspondents　did　not　answer　her　letters　any　more。　She　felt　so　defeated　by　the　weight　of　an　unknown　word　that　she　decided　to　put　shame　behind　her　and　ask　what　a　pessary　was；　and　only　then　did　she　discover　that　the　French　doctor　had　hanged　himself　to　a　beam　three　months　earlier　and　had　been　buried　against　the　wishes　of　the　townspeople　by　a　former　panion　in　arms　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。　Then　she　confided　in　her　son　Jos？Arcadio　and　the　latter　sent　her　the　pessaries　from　Rome　along　with　a　pamphlet　explaining　their　use；　which　she　flushed　down　the　toilet　after　mitting　it　to　memory　so　that　no　one　would　learn　the　nature　of　her　troubles。　It　was　a　useless　precaution　because　the　only　people　who　lived　in　the　house　scarcely　paid　any　attention　to　her。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　was　wandering　about　in　her　solitary　old　age；　cooking　the　little　that　they　ate　and　almost　pletely　dedicated　to　the　care　of　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo。　Amaranta　？rsula；　who　had　inherited　certain　attractions　of　Remedios　the　Beauty；　spent　the　time　that　she　had　formerly　wasted　tormenting　？rsula　at　her　schoolwork；　and　she　began　to　show　good　judgment　and　a　dedication　to　study　that　brought　back　to　Aureliano　Segundo　the　high　hopes　that　Meme　had　inspired　in　him。　He　had　promised　her　to　send　her　to　finish　her　studies　in　Brussels；　in　accord　with　a　custom　established　during　the　time　of　the　banana　pany；　and　that　illusion　had　brought　him　to　attempt　to　revive　the　lands　devastated　by　the　deluge。　The　few　times　that　he　appeared　at　the　house　were　for　Amaranta　？rsula；　because　with　time　he　had　bee　a　stranger　to　Fernanda　and　little　Aureliano　was　being　withdrawn　as　he　approached　puberty。　Aureliano　Segundo　had　faith　that　Fernanda’s　heart　would　soften　with　old　age　so　that　the　child　could　join　in　the　life　of　the　town　where　no　one　certainly　would　make　any　effort　to　speculate　suspiciously　about　his　origins。　But　Aureliano　himself　seemed　to　prefer　the　cloister　of　solitude　and　he　did　not　show　the　least　desire　to　know　the　world　that　began　at　the　street　door　of　the　house。　When　？rsula　had　the　door　of　Melquíades？room　opened　he　began　to　linger　about　it；　peeping　through　the　halfopened　door；　and　no　one　knew　at　what　moment　he　became　close　to　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　in　a　link　of　mutual　affection。　Aureliano　Segundo　discovered　that　friendship　a　long　time　after　it　had　begun；　when　he　heard　the　child　talking　about　the　killing　at　the　station。　It　happened　once　when　someone　at　the　table　plained　about　the　ruin　into　which　the　town　had　sunk　when　the　banana　pany　had　abandoned　it；　and　Aureliano　contradicted　him　with　maturity　and　with　the　vision　of　a　grown　person。　His　point　of　view；　contrary　to　the　general　interpretation；　was　that　Macondo　had　been　a　prosperous　place　and　well　on　its　way　until　it　was　disordered　and　corrupted　and　suppressed　by　the　banana　pany；　whose　engineers　brought　on　the　deluge　as　a　pretext　to　avoid　promises　made　to　the　workers。　Speaking　with　such　good　sense　that　to　Fernanda　he　was　like　a　sacrilegious　parody　of　Jews　among　the　wise　men；　the　child　described　with　precise　and　convincing　details　how　the　army　had　machinegunned　more　than　three　thousand　workers　penned　up　by　the　station　and　how　they　loaded　the　bodies　onto　a　twohundredcar　train　and　threw　them　into　the　sea。　Convinced　as　most　people　were　by　the　official　version　that　nothing　had　happened；　Fernanda　was　scandalized　with　the　idea　that　the　child　had　inherited　the　anarchist　ideas　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　told　him　to　be　quiet。　Aureliano　Segundo；　on　the　other　hand；　recognized　his　twin　brother’s　version。　Actually；　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　everyone　considered　him　mad；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　at　that　time　the　most　lucid　inhabitant　of　the　house。　He　taught　little　Aureliano　how　to　read　and　write；　initiated　him　in　the　study　of　the　parchments；　and　he　inculcated　him　with　such　a　personal　interpretation　of　what　the　banana　pany　had　meant　to　Macondo　that　many　years　later；　when　Aureliano　became　part　of　the　world；　one　would　have　thought　that　he　was　telling　a　hallucinated　version；　because　it　was　radically　opposed　to　the　false　one　that　historians　had　created　and　consecrated　in　the　schoolbooks。　In　the　small　isolated　room　where　the　arid　air　never　penetrated；　nor　the　dust；　nor　the　heat；　both　had　the　atavistic　vision　of　an　old　man；　his　back　to　the　window；　wearing　a　hat　with　a　brim　like　the　wings　of　a　crow　who　spoke　about　the　world　many　years　before　they　had　been　born。　Both　described　at　the　same　time　how　it　was　always　March　there　and　always　Monday；　and　then　they　understood　that　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　not　as　crazy　as　the　family　said；　but　that　he　was　the　only　one　who　had　enough　lucidity　to　sense　the　truth　of　the　fact　that　time　also　stumbled　and　had　accidents　and　could　therefore　splinter　and　leave　an　eternalized　fragment　in　a　room。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　had　managed；　furthermore；　to　classify　the　cryptic　letters　of　the　parchments。　He　was　certain　that　they　corresponded　to　an　alphabet　of　fortyseven　to　fiftythree　characters；　which　when　separated　looked　like　scratching　and　scribbling；　and　which　in　the　fine　hand　of　Melquíades　looked　like　pieces　of　clothing　put　out　to　dry　on　a　line。　Aureliano　remembered　having　seen　a　similar　table　in　the　English　encyclopedia；　so　he　brought　it　to　the　room　to　pare　it　with　that　of　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo。　They　were　indeed　the　same。
　　　Around　the　time　of　the　riddle　lottery；　Aureliano　Segundo　began　waking　up　with　a　knot　in　his　throat；　as　if　he　were　repressing　a　desire　to　weep。　Petra　Cotes　interpreted　it　as　one　more　of　so　many　upsets　brought　on　by　the　bad　situation；　and　every　morning　for　over　a　year　she　would　touch　his　palate　with　a　dash　of　honey　and　give　him　some　radish　syrup。　When　the　knot　in　his　throat　became　so　oppressive　that　it　was　difficult　for　him　to　breathe；　Aureliano　Segundo　visited　Pilar　Ternera　to　see　if　she　knew　of　some　herb　that　would　give　him　relief。　The　dauntless　grandmother；　who　had　reached　a　hundred　years　of　age　managing　a　small；　clandestine　brothel；　did　not　trust　therapeutic　superstitions；　so　she　turned　the　matter　over　to　her　cards。　She　saw　the　queen　of　diamonds　with　her　throat　wounded　by　the　steel　of　the　jack　of　spades；　and　she　deduced　that　Fernanda　was　trying　to　get　her　husband　back　home　by　means　of　the　discredited　method　of　sticking　pins　into　his　picture　but　that　she　had　brought　on　an　internal　tumor　because　of　her　clumsy　knowledge　of　the　black　arts。　Since　Aureliano　Segundo　had　no　other　pictures　except　those　of　his　wedding　and　the　copies　were　all　in　the　family　album；　he　kept　searching　all　through　the　house　when　his　wife　was　not　looking；　and　finally；　in　the　bottom　of　the　dresser；　he　came　across　a　halfdozen　pessaries　in　their　original　boxes。　Thinking　that　the　small　red　rubber　rings　were　objects　of　witchcraft　he　put　them　in　his　pocket　so　that　Pilar　Ternera　could　have　a　look　at　them。　She　could　not　determine　their　nature；　but　they　looked　so　suspicious　to　her　that　in　any　case　she　burned　them　in　a　bonfire　she　built　in　the　courtyard。　In　order　to　conjure　away　Fernanda’s　alleged　curse；　she　told　Aureliano　Segundo　that　he　should　soak　a　broody　hen　and　bury　her　alive　under　the　chestnut　tree；　and　he　did　it　with　such　good　faith　that　when　he　finished　hiding　the　turnedup　earth　with　dried　leaves　he　already　felt　that　he　was　breathing　better。　For　her　part；　Fernanda　interpreted　the　disappearance　as　a　reprisal　by　the　invisible　doctors　and　she　sewed　a　pocket　of　casing　to　the　inside　of　her　camisole　where　she　kept　the　new　pessaries　that　her　son　sent　her。
　　　Six　months　after　he　had　buried　the　hen；　Aureliano　Segundo　woke　up　at　midnight　with　an　attack　of　coughing　and　the　feeling　that　he　was　being　strangled　within　by　the　claws　of　a　crab。　It　was　then　that　he　understood　that　for　all　of　the　magical　pessaries　that　he　destroyed　and　all　the　conjuring　hens　that　he　soaked；　the　single　and　sad　piece　of　truth　was　that　he　was　dying。　He　did　not　tell　anyone。　Tormented　by　the　fear　of　dying　without　having　sent　Amaranta　？rsula　to　Brussels；　he　worked　as　he　had　never　done；　and　instead　of　one　he　made　three　weekly　raffles。　From　very　early　in　the　morning　he　could　be　seen　going　through　the　town；　even　in　the　most　outlying　and　miserable　sections；　trying　to　sell　tickets　with　an　anxiety　that　could　only　be　conceivable　in　a　dying　man。　“Here’s　Divine　Providence；？he　hawked。　“Don’t　let　it　get　away；　because　it　only　es　every　hundred　years。？He　made　pitiful　efforts　to　appear　gay；　pleasant；　talkative；　but　it　was　enough　to　see　his　sweat　and　paleness　to　know　that　his　heart　was　not　in　it。　Sometimes　he　would　go　to　vacant　lots；　where　no　one　could　see　him；　and　sit　down　to　rest　from　the　claws　that　were　tearing　him　apart　inside。　Even　at　midnight　he　would　be　in　the　redlight　district　trying　to　console　with　predictions　of　good　luck　the　lonely　women　who　were　weeping　beside　their　phonographs。　“This　number　hasn’t　e　up　in　four　months；？he　told　them；　showing　them　the　tickets。　“Don’t　let　it　get　away；　life　is　shorter　than　you　think。？They　finally　lost　respect　for　him；　made　fun　of　him；　and　in　his　last　months　they　no　longer　called　him　Don　Aureliano；　as　they　had　always　done；　but　they　called　him　Mr。　Divine　Providence　right　to　his　face。　His　voice　was　being　filled　with　wrong　notes。　It　was　getting　out　of　tune；　and　it　finally　diminished　into　the　growl　of　a　dog；　but　he　still　had　the　drive　to　see　that　there　should　be　no　diminishing　of　the　hope　people　brought　to　Petra　Cates’s　courtyard。　As　he　lost　his　voice；　however；　and　realized　that　in　a　short　time　he　would　be　unable　to　bear　the　pain；　he　began　to　understand　that　it　was　not　through　raffled　pigs　and　goats　that　his　daughter　would　get　to　Brussels；　so　he　conceived　the　idea　of　anizing　the　fabulous　raffle　of　the　lands　destroyed　by　the　deluge；　which　could　easily　be　restored　by　a　person　with　the　money　to　do　so。　It　was　such　a　spectacular　undertaking　that　the　mayor　himself　lent　his　aid　by　announcing　it　in　a　proclamation；　and　associations　were　formed　to　buy　tickets　at　one　hundred　pesos　apiece　and　they　were　sold　out　in　less　than　a　week。　The　night　of　the　raffle　the　winners　held　a　huge　celebration；　parable　only　to　those　of　the　good　days　of　the　banana　pany；　and　Aureliano　Segundo；　for　the　last　time；　played　the　fotten　songs　of　Francisco　the　Man　on　the　accordion；　but　he　could　no　longer　sing　them。
　　　Two　months　later　Amaranta　？rsula　went　to　Brussels。　Aureliano　Segundo　gave　her　not　only　the　money　from　the　special　raffle；　but　also　what　he　had　managed　to　put　aside　over　the　previous　months　and　what　little　he　had　received　from　the　sale　of　the　pianola；　the　clavichord；　and　other　junk　that　had　fallen　into　disrepair。　　According　to　his　calculations；　that　sum　would　be　enough　for　her　studies；　so　that　all　that　was　lacking　was　the　price　of　her　fare　back　home。　Fernanda　was　against　the　trip　until　the　last　moment；　scandalized　by　the　idea　that　Brussels　was　so　close　to　Paris　and　its　perdition；　but　she　calmed　down　with　the　letter　that　Father　Angel　gave　her　addressed　to　a　boardinghouse　run　by　nuns　for　Catholic　young　ladies　where　Amaranta　？rsula　promised　to　stay　until　her　studies　were　pleted。　Furthermore；　the　parish　priest　arranged　for　her　to　travel　under　the　care　of　a　group　of　Franciscan　nuns　who　were　going　to　Toledo；　where　they　hoped　to　find　dependable　people　to　acpany　her　to　Belgium。　While　the　urgent　correspondence　that　made　the　coordination　possible　went　forward；　Aureliano　Segundo；　aided　by　Petra　Cates；　prepared　Amaranta　？rsula’s　baggage。　The　night　on　which　they　were　packing　one　of　Fernanda’s　bridal　trunks；　the　things　were　so　well　anized　that　the　schoolgirl　knew　by　heart　which　were　the　suits　and　cloth　slippers　she　could　wear　crossing　the　Atlantic　and　the　blue　cloth　coat　with　copper　buttons　and　the　cordovan　shoes　she　would　wear　when　she　landed。　She　also　knew　how　to　walk　so　as　not　to　fall　into　the　water　as　she　went　up　the　gangplank；　that　at　no　time　was　she　to　leave　the　pany　of　the　nuns　or　leave　her　cabin　except　to　eat；　and　that　for　no　reason　was　she　to　answer　the　questions　asked　by　people　of　any　sex　while　they　were　at　sea。　She　carried　a　small　bottle　with　drops　for　seasickness　and　a　notebook　written　by　Father　Angel　in　his　own　hand　containing　six　prayers　to　be　used　against　storms。　Fernanda　made　her　a　canvas　belt　to　keep　her　money　in；　and　she　would　not　have　to　take　it　off　even　to　sleep。　She　tried　to　give　her　the　chamberpot；　washed　out　with　lye　and　disinfected　with　alcohol；　but　Amaranta　？rsula　refused　it　for　fear　that　her　schoolmates　would　make　fun　of　her。　A　few　months　later；　at　the　hour　of　his　death；　Aureliano　Segundo　would　remember　her　as　he　had　seen　her　for　the　last　time　as　she　tried　unsuccessfully　to　lower　the　window　of　the　secondclass　coach　to　hear　Fernanda’s　last　piece　of　advice。　She　was　wearing　a　pink　silk　dress　with　a　corsage　of　artificial　pansies　pinned　to　her　left　shoulder；　her　cordovan　shoes　with　buckles　and　low　heels；　and　sateen　stockings　held　up　at　the　thighs　with　elastic　garters。　Her　body　was　slim；　her　hair　loose　and　long；　and　she　had　the　lively　eyes　that　？rsula　had　had　at　her　age　and　the　way　in　which　she　said　goodbye；　without　crying　but　without　smiling　either；　revealed　the　same　strength　of　character。　Walking　beside　the　coach　as　it　picked　up　speed　and　holding　Fernanda　by　the　arm　so　that　she　would　not　stumble；　Aureliano　scarcely　had　time　to　wave　at　his　daughter　as　she　threw　him　a　kiss　with　the　tips　of　her　fingers。　The　couple　stood　motionless　under　the　scorching　sun；　looking　at　the　train　as　it　merged　with　the　black　strip　of　the　horizon；　linking　arms　for　the　first　time　since　the　day　of　their　wedding。
　　　On　the　ninth　of　August；　before　they　received　the　first　letter　from　Brussels；　Jo