百年孤独(英文版)-第56部分

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yes。　They　were　gracious　and　well…mannered。　As　soon　as　the　men　came　in；　before　being　introduced；　they　gave　them　chairs　to　sit　on。　But　they　both　remained　standing。
　　　“Very　well；　my　friend；？Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　said；　“you　may　stay　here；　not　because　you　have　those　bandits　with　shotguns　at　the　door；　but　out　of　consideration　for　your　wife　and　daughters。？
　　　Don　Apolinar　Moscote　was　upset；　but　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　did　not　give　him　time　to　reply。　“We　only　make　two　conditions；？he　went　on。　“The　first：　that　everyone　can　paint　his　house　the　color　he　feels　like。　The　second：　that　the　soldiers　leave　at　once。　We　will　guarantee　order　for　you。？The　magistrate　raised　his　right　hand　with　all　the　fingers　extended。
　　　“Your　word　of　honor？？
　　　“The　word　of　your　enemy；？Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　said。　And　he　added　in　a　bitter　tone：　“Because　I　must　tell　you　one　thing：　you　and　I　are　still　enemies。？
　　　The　soldiers　left　that　same　afternoon。　A　few　days　later　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　found　a　house　for　the　magistrate’s　family。　Everybody　was　at　peace　except　Aureliano。　The　image　of　Remedios；　the　magistrate’s　younger　daughter；　who；　because　of　her　age；　could　have　been　his　daughter；　kept　paining　him　in　some　part　of　his　body。　It　was　a　physical　sensation　that　almost　bothered　him　when　he　walked；　like　a　pebble　in　his　shoe。

Chapter　4
THE　NEW　HOUSE；　white；　like　a　dove；　was　inaugurated　with　a　dance。　？rsula　had　got　that　idea　from　the　afternoon　when　she　saw　Rebeca　and　Amaranta　changed　into　adolescents；　and　it　could　almost　have　been　said　that　the　main　reason　behind　the　construction　was　a　desire　to　have　a　proper　place　for　the　girls　to　receive　visitors。　In　order　that　nothing　would　be　lacking　in　splendor　she　worked　like　a　galley　slave　as　the　repairs　were　under　way；　so　that　before　they　were　finished　she　had　ordered　costly　necessities　for　the　decorations；　the　table　service；　and　the　marvelous　invention　that　was　to　arouse　the　astonishment　of　the　town　and　the　jubilation　of　the　young　people：　the　pianola。　They　delivered　it　broken　down；　packed　in　several　boxes　that　were　unloaded　along　with　the　Viennese　furniture；　the　Bohemian　crystal；　the　table　service　from　the　Indies　pany；　the　tablecloths　from　Holland；　and　a　rich　variety　of　lamps　and　candlesticks；　hangings　and　drapes。　The　import　house　sent　along　at　its　own　expense　an　Italian　expert；　Pietro　Crespi；　to　assemble　and　tune　the　pianola；　to　instruct　the　purchasers　in　its　functioning；　and　to　teach　them　how　to　dance　the　latest　music　printed　on　its　six　paper　rolls。
　　　Pietro　Crespi　was　young　and　blond；　the　most　handsome　and　well　mannered　man　who　had　ever　been　seen　in　Macondo；　so　scrupulous　in　his　dress　that　in　spite　of　the　suffocating　heat　he　would　work　in　his　brocade　vest　and　heavy　coat　of　dark　cloth。　Soaked　in　sweat；　keeping　a　reverent　distance　from　the　owners　of　the　house；　he　spent　several　weeks　shut　up　is　the　parlor　with　a　dedication　much　like　that　of　Aureliano　in　his　silverwork。　One　morning；　without　opening　the　door；　without　calling　anyone　to　witness　the　miracle；　he　placed　the　first　roll　in　the　pianola　and　the　tormenting　hammering　and　the　constant　noise　of　wooden　lathings　ceased　in　a　silence　that　was　startled　at　the　order　and　neatness　of　the　music。　They　all　ran　to　the　parlor。　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　as　if　struck　by　lightning；　not　because　of　the　beauty　of　the　melody；　but　because　of　the　automatic　working　of　the　keys　of　the　pianola；　and　he　set　up　Melquíades？camera　with　the　hope　of　getting　a　daguerreotype　of　the　invisible　player。　That　day　the　Italian　had　lunch　with　them。　Rebeca　and　Amaranta；　serving　the　table；　were　intimidated　by　the　way　in　which　the　angelic　man　with　pale　and　ringless　hands　manipulated　the　utensils。　In　the　living　room；　next　to　the　parlor；　Pietro　Crespi　taught　them　how　to　dance。　He　showed　them　the　steps　without　touching　them；　keeping　time　with　a　metronome；　under　the　friendly　eye　of　？rsula；　who　did　not　leave　the　room　for　a　moment　while　her　daughters　had　their　lesson。　Pietro　Crespi　wore　special　pants　on　those　days；　very　elastic　and　tight；　and　dancing　slippers；　“You　don’t　have　to　worry　so　much；？Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　told　her。　“The　man’s　a　fairy。？But　she　did　not　leave　off　her　vigilance　until　the　apprenticeship　was　over　and　the　Italian　left　Macondo。　Then　they　began　to　organize　the　party。　？rsula　drew　up　a　strict　guest　list；　in　which　the　only　ones　invited　were　the　descendants　of　the　founders；　except　for　the　family　of　Pilar　Ternera；　who　by　then　had　had　two　more　children　by　unknown　fathers。　It　was　truly　a　high…class　list；　except　that　it　was　determined　by　feelings　of　friendship；　for　those　favored　were　not　only　the　oldest　friends　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　house　since　before　they　undertook　the　exodus　and　the　founding　of　Macondo；　but　also　their　sons　and　grandsons；　who　were　the　constant　panions　of　Aureliano　and　Arcadio　since　infancy；　and　their　daughters；　who　were　the　only　ones　who　visited　the　house　to　embroider　with　Rebeca　and　Amaranta。　Don　Apolinar　Moscote；　the　benevolent　ruler　whose　activity　had　been　reduced　to　the　maintenance　from　his　scanty　resources　of　two　policemen　armed　with　wooden　clubs；　was　a　figurehead。　In　older　to　support　the　household　expenses　his　daughters　had　opened　a　sewing　shop；　where　they　made　felt　flowers　as　well　as　guava　delicacies；　and　wrote　love　notes　to　order。　But　in　spite　of　being　modest　and　hard…working；　the　most　beautiful　girls　in　Iowa；　and　the　most　skilled　at　the　new　dances；　they　did　not　manage　to　be　considered　for　the　party。
　　　While　？rsula　and　the　girls　unpacked　furniture；　polished　silverware；　and　hung　pictures　of　maidens　in　boats　full　of　roses；　which　gave　a　breath　of　new　life　to　the　naked　areas　that　the　masons　had　built；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　stopped　his　pursuit　of　the　image　of　God；　convinced　of　His　nonexistence；　and　he　took　the　pianola　apart　in　order　to　decipher　its　magical　secret。　Two　days　before　the　party；　swamped　in　a　shower　of　leftover　keys　and　hammers；　bungling　in　the　midst　of　a　mix…up　of　strings　that　would　unroll　in　one　direction　and　roll　up　again　in　the　other；　he　succeeded　in　a　fashion　in　putting　the　instrument　back　together。　There　had　never　been　as　many　surprises　and　as　much　dashing　about　as　in　those　days；　but　the　new　pitch　lamps　were　lighted　on　the　designated　day　and　hour。　The　house　was　opened；　still　smelling　of　resin　and　damp　whitewash；　and　the　children　and　grandchildren　of　the　founders　saw　the　porch　with　ferns　and　begonias；　the　quiet　rooms；　the　garden　saturated　with　the　fragrance　of　the　roses；　and　they　gathered　together　in　the　parlor；　facing　the　unknown　invention　that　had　been　covered　with　a　white　sheet。　Those　who　were　familiar　with　the　piano；　popular　in　other　towns　in　the　swamp；　felt　a　little　disheartened；　but　more　bitter　was　？rsula’s　disappointment　when　she　put　in　the　first　roll　so　that　Amaranta　and　Rebeca　could　begin　the　dancing　and　the　mechanism　did　not　work。　Melquíades；　almost　blind　by　then；　crumbling　with　decrepitude；　used　the　arts　of　his　timeless　wisdom　in　an　attempt　to　fix　it。　Finally　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　managed；　by　mistake；　to　move　a　device　that　was　stuck　and　the　music　came　out；　first　in　a　burst　and　then　in　a　flow　of　mixed…up　notes。　Beating　against　the　strings　that　had　been　put　in　without　order　or　concert　and　had　been　tuned　with　temerity；　the　hammers　let　go。　But　the　stubborn　descendants　of　the　twenty…one　intrepid　people　who　plowed　through　the　mountains　in　search　of　the　sea　to　the　west　avoided　the　reefs　of　the　melodic　mix…up　and　the　dancing　went　on　until　dawn。
　　　Pietro　Crespi　came　back　to　repair　the　pianola。　Rebeca　and　Amaranta　helped　him　put　the　strings　in　order　and　helped　him　with　their　laughter　at　the　mix…up　of　the　melodies。　It　was　extremely　pleasant　and　so　chaste　in　its　way　that　？rsula　ceased　her　vigilance。　On　the　eve　of　his　departure　a　farewell　dance　for　him　was　improvised　with　the　pianola　and　with　Rebeca　he　put　on　a　skillful　demonstration　of　modern　dance；　Arcadio　and　Amaranta　matched　them　in　grace　and　skill。　But　the　exhibition　was　interrupted　because　Pilar　Ternera；　who　was　at　the　door　with　the　onlookers；　had　a　fight；　biting　and　hair　pulling；　with　a　woman　who　had　dared　to　ment　that　Arcadio　had　a　woman’s　behind。　Toward　midnight　Pietro　Crespi　took　his　leave　with　a　sentimental　little　speech；　and　he　promised　to　return　very　soon。　Rebeca　acpanied　him　to　the　door；　and　having　closed　up　the　house　and　put　out　the　lamps；　she　went　to　her　room　to　weep。　It　was　an　inconsolable　weeping　that　lasted　for　several　days；　the　cause　of　which　was　not　known　even　by　Amaranta。　Her　hermetism　was　not　odd。　Although　she　seemed　expansive　and　cordial；　she　had　a　solitary　character　and　an　impenetrable　heart。　She　was　a　splendid　adolescent　with　long　and　firm　bones；　but　she　still　insisted　on　using　the　small　wooden　rocking　chair　with　which　she　had　arrived　at　the　house；　reinforced　many　times　and　with　the　arms　gone。　No　one　had　discovered　that　even　at　that　age　she　still　had　the　habit　of　sucking　her　finger。　That　was　why　she　would　not　lose　an　opportunity　to　lock　herself　in　the　bathroom　and　had　acquired　the　habit　of　sleeping　with　her　face　to　the　wall。　On　rainy　afternoons；　embroidering　with　a　group　of　friends　on　the　begonia　porch；　she　would　lose　the　thread　of　the　conversation　and　a　tear　of　nostalgia　would　salt　her　palate　when　she　saw　the　strips　of　damp　earth　and　the　piles　of　mud　that　the　earthworms　had　pushed　up　in　the　garden。　Those　secret　tastes；　defeated　in　the　past　by　oranges　and　rhubarb；　broke　out　into　an　irrepressible　urge　when　she　began　to　weep。　She　went　back　to　eating　earth。　The　first　time　she　did　it　almost　out　of　curiosity；　sure　that　the　bad　taste　would　be　the　best　cure　for　the　temptation。　And；　in　fact；　she　could　not　bear　the　earth　in　her　mouth。　But　she　persevered；　overe　by　the　growing　anxiety；　and　little　by　little　she　was　getting　back　her　ancestral　appetite；　the　taste　of　primary　minerals；　the　unbridled　satisfaction　of　what　was　the　original　food。　She　would　put　handfuls　of　earth　in　her　pockets；　and　ate　them　in　small　bits　without　being　seen；　with　a　confused　feeling　of　pleasure　and　rage；　as　she　instructed　her　girl　friends　in　the　most　difficult　needlepoint　and　spoke　about　other　men；　who　did　not　deserve　the　sacrifice　of　having　one　eat　the　whitewash　on　the　walls　because　of　them。　The　handfuls　of　earth　made　the　only　man　who　deserved　that　show　of　degradation　less　remote　and　more　certain；　as　if　the　ground　that　he　walked　on　with　his　fine　patent　leather　boots　in　another　part　of　the　world　were　transmitting　to　her　the　weight　and　the　temperature　of　his　blood　in　a　mineral　savor　that　left　a　harsh　aftertaste　in　her　mouth　and　a　sediment　of　peace　in　her　heart。　One　afternoon；　for　no　reason；　Amparo　Moscote　asked　permission　to　see　the　house。　Amaranta　and　Rebeca；　disconcerted　by　the　unexpected　visit；　attended　her　with　a　stiff　formality。　They　showed　her　the　remodeled　mansion；　they　had　her　listen　to　the　rolls　on　the　pianola；　and　they　offered　her　orange　marmalade　and　crackers。　Amparo　gave　a　lesson　in　dignity；　personal　charm；　and　good　manners　that　impressed　？rsula　in　the　few　moments　that　she　was　present　during　the　visit。　After　two　hours；　when　the　conversation　was　beginning　to　wane；　Amparo　took　advantage　of　Amaranta’s　distraction　and　gave　Rebeca　a　letter。　She　was　able　to　see　the　name　of　the　Estimable　Se？orita　Rebeca　Buendía；　written　in　the　same　methodical　hand；　with　the　same　green　ink；　and　the　same　delicacy　of　words　with　which　the　instructions　for