百年孤独(英文版)-第29部分

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al　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　flesh…and…blood　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　mother…of…pearl。
　　　“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　forget　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　to　stop　the　revision　of　property　titles。　The　politicians　who　supplied　funds　for　the　war　from　exile　had　Publicly　repudiated　the　drastic　aims　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；　but　even　that　withdrawal　of　authorization　did　not　seem　to　bother　him。　He　had　not　returned　to　reading　his　poetry；　which　filled　more　than　five　volumes　and　lay　forgotten　at　the　bottom　of　his　trunk。　At　night　or　at　siesta　time　he　would　call　one　of　his　women　to　his　hammock　and　obtain　a　rudimentary　satisfaction　from　her；　and　then　he　would　sleep　like　a　stone　that　was　not　concerned　by　the　slightest　indication　of　worry。　Only　he　knew　at　that　time　that　his　confused　heart　was　condemned　to　uncertainty　forever。　At　first；　intoxicated　by　the　glory　of　his　return；　by　his　remarkable　victories；　he　had　peeped　into　the　abyss　of　greatness。　He　took　pleasure　in　keeping　by　his　right　hand　the　Duke　of　Marlborough；　his　great　teacher　in　the　art　of　war；　whose　attire　of　skins　and　tiger　claws　aroused　the　respect　of　adults　and　the　awe　of　children。　It　was　then　that　he　decided　that　no　human　being；　not　even　？rsula；　could　e　closer　to　him　than　ten　feet。　In　the　center　of　the　chalk　circle　that　his　aides　would　draw　wherever　he　stopped；　and　which　only　he　could　enter；　he　would　decide　with　brief　orders　that　had　no　appeal　the　fate　of　the　world。　The　first　time　that　he　was　in　Manaure　after　the　shooting　of　General　Moncada；　he　hastened　to　fulfill　his　victim’s　last　wish　and　the　widow　took　the　glasses；　the　medal；　the　watch；　and　the　ring；　but　she　would　not　let　him　in　the　door。
　　　“You　can’t　e　in；　colonel；？she　told　him。　“You　may　be　in　mand　of　your　war；　but　I’m　in　mand　of　my　house。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　did　not　show　any　sign　of　anger；　but　his　spirit　only　calmed　down　when　his　bodyguard　had　sacked　the　widow’s　house　and　reduced　it　to　ashes。　“Watch　out　for　your　heart；　Aureliano；？Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　would　say　to　him　then。　“You’re　rotting　alive。？About　that　time　he　called　together　a　second　assembly　of　the　principal　rebel　manders。　He　found　all　types：　idealists；　ambitious　people；　adventurers；　those　with　social　resentments；　even　mon　criminals。　There　was　even　a　former　Conservative　functionary　who　had　taken　refuge　in　the　revolt　to　escape　a　judgment　for　misappropriation　of　funds。　Many　of　them　did　not　even　know　why　they　were　fighting　in　the　midst　of　that　motley　crowd；　whose　differences　of　values　were　on　the　verge　of　causing　an　internal　explosion；　one　gloomy　authority　stood　out：　General　Te6filo　Vargas。　He　was　a　full…blooded　Indian；　untamed；　illiterate；　and　endowed　with　quiet　wiles　and　a　messianic　vocation　that　aroused　a　demented　fanaticism　in　his　men。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　called　the　meeting　with　the　aim　of　unifying　the　rebel　mand　against　the　maneuvers　of　the　politicians。　General　Teófilo　Vargas　came　forward　with　his　intentions：　in　a　few　hours　he　shattered　the　coalition　of　better…qualified　manders　and　took　charge　of　the　main　mand。　“He’s　a　wild　beast　worth　watching；？Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　told　his　officers。　“That　man　is　more　dangerous　to　us　than　the　Minister　of　War。？Then　a　very　young　captain　who　had　always　been　outstanding　for　his　timidity　raised　a　cautious　index　finger。
　　　“It’s　quite　simple；　colonel；？he　proposed。　“He　has　to　be　killed。？
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　not　alarmed　by　the　coldness　of　the　proposition　but　by　the　way　in　which；　by　a　fraction　of　a　second；　it　had　anticipated　his　own　thoughts。
　　　“Don’t　expect　me　to　give　an　order　like　that；？he　said。
　　　He　did