百年孤独(英文版)-第64部分

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und　his　waist　he　buckled　the　saber　with　gold　tassels　that　had　belonged　to　the　executed　captain。　He　set　up　the　two　artillery　pieces　at　the　entrance　to　town；　put　uniforms　on　his　former　pupils；　who　had　been　amused　by　his　fiery　proclamations；　and　let　them　wander　through　the　streets　armed　in　order　to　give　outsiders　an　impression　of　invulnerability。　It　was　a　double…edged　deception；　for　the　government　did　not　dare　attack　the　place　for　ten　months；　but　when　it　did　it　unleashed　such　a　large　force　against　it　that　resistance　was　liquidated　in　a　half　hour。　From　the　first　day　of　his　rule　Arcadio　revealed　his　predilection　for　decrees。　He　would　read　as　many　as　four　a　day　in　order　to　decree　and　institute　everything　that　came　into　his　head。　He　imposed　obligatory　military　service　for　men　over　eighteen；　declared　to　be　public　property　any　animals　walking　the　streets　after　six　in　the　evening；　and　made　men　who　were　overage　wear　red　armbands。　He　sequestered　Father　Nicanor　in　the　parish　house　under　pain　of　execution　and　prohibited　him　from　saying　mass　or　ringing　the　bells　unless　it　was　for　a　Liberal　victory。　In　order　that　no　one　would　doubt　the　severity　of　his　aims；　he　ordered　a　firing　squad　organized　in　the　square　and　had　it　shoot　at　a　scarecrow。　At　first　no　one　took　him　seriously。　They　were；　after　all；　schoolchildren　playing　at　being　grown…ups。　But　one　night；　when　Arcadio　went　into　Catarino’s　store；　the　trumpeter　in　the　group　greeted　him　with　a　fanfare　that　made　the　customers　laugh　and　Arcadio　had　him　shot　for　disrespect　for　the　authorities。　People　who　protested　were　put　on　bread　and　water　with　their　ankles　in　a　set　of　stocks　that　he　had　set　up　in　a　schoolroom。　“You　murderer！？？rsula　would　shout　at　him　every　time　she　learned　of　some　new　arbitrary　act。　“When　Aureliano　finds　out　he’s　going　to　shoot　you　and　I’ll　be　the　first　one　to　be　glad。？But　it　was　of　no　use。　Arcadio　continued　tightening　the　tourniquet　with　unnecessary　rigor　until　he　became　the　cruelest　ruler　that　Macondo　had　ever　known。　“Now　let　them　suffer　the　difference；？Don　Apolinar　Moscote　said　on　one　occasion。　“This　is　the　Liberal　paradise。？Arcadio　found　out　about　it。　At　the　head　of　a　patrol　he　assaulted　the　house；　destroyed　the　furniture；　flogged　the　daughters；　and　dragged　out　Don　Apolinar　Moscote。　When　？rsula　burst　into　the　courtyard　of　headquarters；　after　having　gone　through　the　town　shouting　shame　and　brandishing　with　rage　a　pitch…covered　whip；　Arcadio　himself　was　preparing　to　give　the　squad　the　mand　to　fire。
　　　“I　dare　you　to；　bastard！？？rsula　shouted。
　　　Before　Arcadio　had　time　to　read　she　let　go　with　the　first　blow　of　the　lash。　“I　dare　you　to；　murderer！？she　shouted。　“And　kill　me　too；　son　of　an　evil　mother。　That　way　I　won’t　have　the　eyes　to　weep　for　the　shame　of　having　raised　a　monster。？Whipping　him　without　mercy；　she　chased　him　to　the　back　of　the　courtyard；　where　Arcadio　curled　up　like　a　snail　in　its　shell。　Don　Apolinar　Moscote　was　unconscious；　tied　to　the　post　where　previously　they　had　had　the　scarecrow　that　had　been　cut　to　pieces　by　shots　fired　in　fun。　The　boys　in　the　squad　scattered；　fearful　that　？rsula　would　go　after　them　too。　But　she　did　not　even　look　at　them。　She　left　Arcadio　with　his　uniform　torn；　roaring　with　pain　and　rage；　and　she　untied　Don　Apolinar　Moscote　and　took　him　home。　Before　leaving　the　headquarters　she　released　the　prisoners　from　the　stocks。
　　　From　that　time　on　she　was　the　one　who　ruled　in　the　town。　She　reestablished　Sunday　masses；　suspended　the　use　of　red　armbands；　and　abrogated　the　harebrained　decrees。　But　in　spite　of　her　strength；　she　still　wept　over　her　unfortunate　fate。　She　felt　so　much　alone　that　she　sought　the　useless　pany　of　her　husband；　who　had　been　forgotten　under　the　chestnut　tree。　“Look　what　we’ve　e　to；？she　would　tell　him　as　the　June　rains　threatened　to　knock　the　shelter　down。　“Look　at　the　empty　house；　our　children　scattered　all　over　the　world；　and　the　two　of　us　alone　again；　the　same　as　in　the　beginning。？Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　sunk　in　an　abyss　of　unawareness；　was　deaf　to　her　lamentations。　At　the　beginning　of　his　madness　he　would　announce　his　daily　needs　with　urgent　Latin　phrases。　In　fleeting　clear　spells　of　lucidity；　when　Amaranta　would　bring　him　his　meals　he　would　tell　her　what　bothered　him　most　and　would　accept　her　sucking　glasses　and　mustard　plasters　in　a　docile　way。　But　at　the　time　when　？rsula　went　to　lament　by　his　side　he　had　lost　all　contact　with　reality。　She　would　bathe　him　bit　by　bit　as　he　sat　on　his　stool　while　she　gave　him　news　of　the　family。　“Aureliano　went　to　war　more　than　four　months　ago　and　we　haven’t　heard　anything　about　him；？she　would　say；　scrubbing　his　back　with　a　soaped　brush。　“Jos？Arcadio　came　back　a　big　man；　taller　than　you；　and　all　covered　with　needle…work；　but　he　only　brought　shame　to　our　house。？She　thought　she　noticed；　however；　that　her　husband　would　grow　sad　with　the　bad　news。　Then　she　decided　to　lie　to　him。　‘Rou　won’t　believe　what　I’m　going　to　tell　you；？she　said　as　she　threw　ashes　over　his　excrement　in　order　to　pick　it　up　with　the　shovel。　“God　willed　that　Jos？Arcadio　and　Rebeca　should　get　married；　and　now　they’re　very　happy。？She　got　to　be　so　sincere　in　the　deception　that　she　ended　up　by　consoling　herself　with　her　own　lies。　“Arcadio　is　a　serious　man　now；？she　said；　“and　very　brave；　and　a　fine…looking　young　man　with　his　uniform　and　saber。？It　was　like　speaking　to　a　dead　man；　for　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　already　beyond　the　reach　of　any　worry。　But　she　insisted。　He　seemed　so　peaceful；　so　indifferent　to　everything　that　she　decided　to　release　him。　He　did　not　even　move　from　his　stool。　He　stayed　there；　exposed　to　the　sun　and　the　rain；　as　if　the　thongs　were　unnecessary；　for　a　dominion　superior　to　any　visible　bond　kept　him　tied　to　the　trunk　of　the　chestnut　tree。　Toward　August；　when　winter　began　to　last　forever；　？rsula　was　finally　able　to　give　him　a　piece　of　news　that　sounded　like　the　truth。
　　　“Would　you　believe　it　that　good　luck　is　still　pouring　down　on　us？？she　told　him。　“Amaranta　and　the　pianola　Italian　are　going　to　get　married。？
　　　Amaranta　and　Pietro　Crespi　had；　in　fact；　deepened　their　friendship；　protected　by　？rsula；　who　this　time　did　not　think　it　necessary　to　watch　over　the　visits。　It　was　a　twilight　engagement。　The　Italian　would　arrive　at　dusk；　with　a　gardenia　in　his　buttonhole；　and　he　would　translate　Petrarch’s　sonnets　for　Amaranta。　They　would　sit　on　the　porch；　suffocated　by　the　oregano　and　the　roses；　he　reading　and　she　sewing　lace　cuffs；　indifferent　to　the　shocks　and　bad　news　of　the　war；　until　the　mosquitoes　made　them　take　refuge　in　the　parlor。　Amaranta’s　sensibility；　her　discreet　but　enveloping　tenderness　had　been　wearing　an　invisible　web　about　her　fianc？　which　he　had　to　push　aside　materially　with　his　pale　and　ringless　fingers　in　order　to　leave　the　house　at　eight　o’clock。　They　had　put　together　a　delightful　album　with　the　postcards　that　Pietro　Crespi　received　from　Italy。　They　were　pictures　of　lovers　in　lonely　parks；　with　vignettes　of　hearts　pierced　with　arrows　and　golden　ribbons　held　by　doves。　“I’ve　been　to　this　park　in　Florence；？Pietro　Crespi　would　say；　going　through　the　cards。　“A　person　can　put　out　his　hand　and　the　birds　will　e　to　feed。？Sometimes；　over　a　watercolor　of　Venice；　nostalgia　would　transform　the　smell　of　mud　and　putrefying　shellfish　of　the　canals　into　the　warm　aroma　of　flowers。　Amaranta　would　sigh；　laugh；　and　dream　of　a　second　homeland　of　handsome　men　and　beautiful　women　who　spoke　a　childlike　language　with　ancient　cities　of　whose　past　grandeur　only　the　cats　among　the　rubble　remained。　After　crossing　the　ocean　in　search　of　it；　after　having　confused　passion　with　the　vehement　stroking　of　Rebeca；　Pietro　Crespi　had　found　love。　Happiness　was　acpanied　by　prosperity。　His　warehouse　at　that　time　occupied　almost　a　whole　block　and　it　was　a　hothouse　of　fantasy；　with　reproductions　of　the　bell　tower　of　Florence　that　told　time　with　a　concert　of　carillons；　and　music　boxes　from　Sorrento　and　pacts　from　China　that　sang　five…note　melodies　when　they　were　opened；　and　all　the　musical　instruments　imaginable　and　all　the　mechanical　toys　that　could　be　conceived。　Bruno　Crespi；　his　younger　brother；　was　in　charge　of　the　store　because　Pietro　Crespi　barely　had　enough　time　to　take　care　of　the　music　school。　Thanks　to　him　the　Street　of　the　Turks；　with　its　dazzling　display　of　knickknacks；　became　a　melodic　oasis　where　one　could　forget　Arcadio’s　arbitrary　acts　and　the　distant　nightmare　of　the　war。　When　？rsula　ordered　the　revival　of　Sunday　mass；　Pietro　Crespi　donated　a　German　harmonium　to　the　church；　organized　a　children’s　chorus；　and　prepared　a　Gregorian　repertory　that　added　a　note　of　splendor　to　Father　Nicanor’s　quiet　rite。　No　one　doubted　that　he　would　make　Amaranta　a　fortunate　mate。　Not　pushing　their　feelings；　letting　themselves　be　borne　along　by　the　natural　flow　of　their　hearth　they　reached　a　point　where　all　that　was　left　to　do　was　set　a　wedding　date。　They　did　not　encounter　any　obstacles。　？rsula　accused　herself　inwardly　of　having　twisted　Rebecca’s　destiny　with　repeated　postponements　and　she　was　not　about　to　add　more　remorse。　The　rigor　of　the　mourning　for　Remedios　had　been　relegated　to　the　background　by　the　mortifications　of　the　war；　Aureliano’s　absence；　Arcadio’s　brutality；　and　the　expulsion　of　Jos？Arcadio　and　Rebeca。　With　the　imminence　of　the　wedding；　Pietro　Crespi　had　hinted　that　Aureliano　Jos？　in　whom　he　had　stirred　up　a　love　that　was　almost　filial；　would　be　considered　their　oldest　child。　Everything　made　Amaranta　think　that　she　was　heading　toward　a　smooth　happiness。　But　unlike　Rebeca；　she　did　not　reveal　the　slightest　anxiety。　With　the　same　patience　with　which　she　dyed　tablecloths；　sewed　lace　masterpieces；　and　embroidered　needlepoint　peacocks；　she　waited　for　Pietro　Crespi　to　be　unable　to　bear　the　urges　of　his　heart　and　more。　Her　day　came　with　the　ill…fated　October　rains。　Pietro　Crespi　took　the　sewing　basket　from　her　lap　and　he　told　her；　“We’ll　get　married　next　month。？Amaranta　did　not　tremble　at　the　contact　with　his　icy　hands。　She　withdrew　hers　like　a　timid　little　animal　and　went　back　to　her　work。
　　　“Don’t　be　simple；　Crespi。？She　smiled。　“I　wouldn’t　marry　you　even　if　I　were　dead。？
　　　Pietro　Crespi　lost　control　of　himself。　He　wept　shamelessly；　almost　breaking　his　fingers　with　desperation；　but　he　could　not　break　her　down。　“Don’t　waste　your　time；？was　all　that　Amaranta　said。　“If　you　really　love　me　so　much；　don’t　set　foot　in　this　house　again。？？rsula　thought　she　would　go　mad　with　shame。　Pietro　Crespi　exhausted　all　manner　of　pleas。　He　went　through　incredible　extremes　of　humiliation。　He　wept　one　whole　afternoon　in　？rsula’s　lap　and　she　would　have　sold　her　soul　in　order　to　fort　him。　On　rainy　nights　he　could　be　seen　prowling　about　the　house　with　an　umbrella；　waiting　for　a　light　in　Amaranta’s　bedroom。　He　was　never　better　dressed　than　at　that　time。　His　august　head　of　a　tormented　emperor　had　acquired　a　strange　air　of　grandeur。　He　begged　Amaranta’s　friends；　the　ones　who　sewed　with　her　on　the　porch；　to　try　to　persuade　her。　He　neglected　his　business。　He　would　spend　the　day　in　the　rear　of　the　store　writing　wild　notes；　which　he　would　send　to　Amaranta　with　flower　petals　and　dried　butterflies；　and　which　she　would　return　unopened。　He　would　shut　himself　up　for　hours　on　end　to　play　the　zither。　One　night　he　sang。　Macondo　woke　up　in　a　kind　of　angelic