百年孤独(英文版)-第13部分

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　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　the　operation　of　the　pianola　were　written；　and　she　folded　the　letter　with　the　tips　of　her　fingers　and　hid　it　in　her　bosom；　looking　at　Amparo　Moscote　with　an　expression　of　endless　and　unconditional　gratitude　and　a　silent　promise　of　plicity　unto　death。
　　　The　sudden　friendship　between　Amparo　Moscote　and　Rebeca　Buendía　awakened　the　hopes　of　Aureliano。　The　memory　of　little　Remedios　had　not　stopped　tormenting　him；　but　he　had　not　found　a　chance　to　see　her。　When　he　would　stroll　through　town　with　his　closest　friends；　Magnífico　Visbal　and　Gerineldo　Márquez—the　sons　of　the　founders　of　the　same　names—he　would　look　for　her　in　the　sewing　shop　with　an　anxious　glance；　but　he　saw　only　the　older　sisters。　The　presence　of　Amparo　Moscote　in　the　house　was　like　a　premonition。　“She　has　to　e　with　her；？Aureliano　would　say　to　himself　in　a　low　voice。　“She　has　to　e。？He　repeated　it　so　many　times　and　with　such　conviction　that　one　afternoon　when　he　was　putting　together　a　little　gold　fish　in　the　work　shop；　he　had　the　certainty　that　she　had　answered　his　call。　Indeed；　a　short　time　later　he　heard　the　childish　voice；　and　when　he　looked　up　his　heart　froze　with　terror　as　he　saw　the　girl　at　the　door；　dressed　in　pink　organdy　and　wearing　white　boots。
　　　“You　can’t　go　in　there；　Remedios；　Amparo　Moscote　said　from　the　hall。　They’re　working。？
　　　But　Aureliano　did　not　give　her　time　to　respond。　He　picked　up　the　little　fish　by　the　chain　that　came　through　its　mouth　and　said　to　her。
　　　“e　in。？
　　　Remedios　went　over　and　asked　some　questions　about　the　fish　that　Aureliano　could　not　answer　because　he　was　seized　with　a　sudden　attack　of　asthma。　He　wanted　to　stay　beside　that　lily　skin　forever；　beside　those　emerald　eyes；　close　to　that　voice　that　called　him　“sir？with　every　question。　showing　the　same　respect　that　she　gave　her　father。　Melquíades　was　in　the　corner　seated　at　the　desk　scribbling　indecipherable　signs。　Aureliano　hated　him。　All　he　could　do　was　tell　Remedios　that　he　was　going　to　give　her　the　little　fish　and　the　girl　was　so　startled　by　the　offer　that　she　left　the　workshop　as　fast　as　she　could。　That　afternoon　Aureliano　lost　the　hidden　patience　with　which　he　had　waited　for　a　chance　to　see　her。　He　neglected　his　work。　In　several　desperate　efforts　of　concentration　he　willed　her　to　appear　but　Remedios　did　not　respond。　He　looked　for　her　in　her　sisters？shop；　behind　the　window　shades　in　her　house；　in　her　father’s　office；　but　he　found　her　only　in　the　image　that　saturated　his　private　and　terrible　solitude。　He　would　spend　whole　hours　with　Rebeca　in　the　parlor　listening　to　the　music　on　the　pianola。　She　was　listening　to　it　because　it　was　the　music　with　which　Pietro　Crespi　had　taught　them　how　to　dance。　Aureliano　listened　to　it　simply　because　everything；　even　music；　reminded　him　of　Remedios。
　　　The　house　became　full　of　loves　Aureliano　expressed　it　in　poetry　that　had　no　beginning　or　end。　He　would　write　it　on　the　harsh　pieces　of　parchment　that　Melquíades　gave　him；　on　the　bathroom　walls；　on　the　skin　of　his　arms；　and　in　all　of　it　Remedios　would　appear　transfigured：　Remedios　in　the　soporific　air　of　two　in　the　afternoon；　Remedios　in　the　soft　breath　of　the　roses；　Remedios　in　the　water…clock　secrets　of　the　moths；　Remedios　in　the　steaming　morning　bread；　Remedios　everywhere　and　Remedios　forever。　Rebeca　waited　for　her　love　at　four　in　the　afternoon；　embroidering　by　the　window。　She　knew　that　the　mailman’s　mule　arrived　only　every　two　weeks；　but　she　always　waited　for　him；　convinced　that　he　was　going　to　arrive　on　some　other　day　by　mistake。　It　happened　quite　the　opposite：　once　the　mule　did　not　e　on　the　usual　day。　Mad　with　desperation；　Rebeca　got　up　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　ate　handfuls　of　earth　in　the　garden　with　a　suicidal　drive；　weeping　with　pain　and　fury；　chewing　tender　earthworms　and　chipping　her　teeth　on　snail　shells。　She　vomited　until　dawn。　She　fell　into　a　state　of　feverish　prostration；　lost　consciousness；　and　her　heart　went　into　a　shameless　delirium。　？rsula；　scandalized；　forced　the　lock　on　her　trunk　and　found　at　the　bottom；　tied　together　with　pink　ribbons；　the　sixteen　perfumed　letters　and　the　skeletons　of　leaves　and　petals　preserved　in　old　books　and　the　dried　butterflies　that　turned　to　powder　at　the　touch。
　　　Aureliano　was　the　only　one　capable　of　understanding　such　desolation。　That　afternoon；　while　？rsula　was　trying　to　rescue　Rebeca　from　the　slough　of　delirium；　he　went　with　Magnífico　Visbal　and　Gerineldo　Márquez　to　Catarino’s　store。　The　establishment　had　been　expanded　with　a　gallery　of　wooden　rooms　where　single　women　who　smelled　of　dead　flowers　lived。　A　group　made　up　of　an　accordion　and　drums　played　the　songs　of　Francisco　the　Man；　who　had　not　been　seen　in　Macondo　for　several　years。　The　three　friends　drank　fermented　cane　juice。　Magnífico　and　Gerineldo；　contemporaries　of　Aureliano　but　more　skilled　in　the　ways　of　the　world；　drank　methodically　with　the　women　seated　on　their　laps。　One　of　the　women；　withered　and　with　goldwork　on　her　teeth；　gave　Aureliano　a　caress　that　made　him　shudder。　He　rejected　her。　He　had　discovered　that　the　more　he　drank　the　more　he　thought　about　Remedios；　but　he　could　bear　the　torture　of　his　recollections　better。　He　did　not　know