百年孤独(英文版)-第50部分

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　that　Aureliano　Segundo　would　lose　not　his　stomach　but　his　character。　At　the　end　of　the　first　night；　while　The　Elephant　was　boldly　going　on；　Aureliano　Segundo　was　wearing　himself　out　with　a　great　deal　of　talking　and　laughing。　They　slept　four　hours。　On　awakening　each　one　had　the　juice　of　forty　oranges；　eight　quarts　of　coffee；　and　thirty　raw　eggs。　On　the　second　morning；　after　many　hours　without　sleep　and　having　put　away　two　pigs；　a　bunch　of　bananas；　and　four　cases　of　champagne；　The　Elephant　suspected　that　Aureliano　Segundo　had　unknowingly　discovered　the　same　method　as　hers；　but　by　the　absurd　route　of　total　irresponsibility。　He　was；　therefore；　more　dangerous　than　she　had　thought。　Nevertheless；　when　Petra　Cotes　brought　two　roast　turkeys　to　the　table；　Aureliano　Segundo　was　a　step　away　from　being　stuffed。
　　　“If　you　can’t；　don’t　eat　any　more；？The　Elephant　said　to　him。　“Let’s　call　it　a　tie。？
　　　She　said　it　from　her　heart；　understanding　that　she　could　not　eat　another　mouthful　either；　out　of　remorse　for　bringing　on　the　death　of　her　adversary。　But　Aureliano　Segundo　interpreted　it　as　another　challenge　and　he　filled　himself　with　turkey　beyond　his　incredible　capacity。　He　lost　consciousness。　He　fell　face　down　into　the　plate　filled　with　bones；　frothing　at　the　mouth　like　a　dog；　and　drowning　in　moans　of　agony。　He　felt；　in　the　midst　of　the　darkness；　that　they　were　throwing　him　from　the　top　of　a　tower　into　a　bottomless　pit　and　in　a　last　flash　of　consciousness　he　realized　that　at　the　end　of　that　endless　fall　death　was　waiting　for　him。
　　　“Take　me　to　Fernanda；？he　managed　to　say。
　　　His　friends　left　him　at　the　house　thinking　that　they　had　helped　him　fulfill　his　promise　to　his　wife　not　to　die　in　his　concubine’s　bed。　Petra　Cotes　had　shined　his　patent　leather　boots　that　he　wanted　to　wear　in　his　coffin；　and　she　was　already　looking　for　someone　to　take　them　when　they　came　to　tell　her　that　Aureliano　Segundo　was　out　of　danger。　He　did　recover；　indeed；　in　less　than　a　week；　and　two　weeks　later　he　was　celebrating　the　fact　of　his　survival　with　unprecedented　festivities。　He　continued　living　at　Petra　Cotes’s　but　he　would　visit　Fernanda　every　day　and　sometimes　he　would　stay　to　eat　with　the　family；　as　if　fate　had　reversed　the　situation　and　had　made　him　the　husband　of　his　concubine　and　the　lover　of　his　wife。
　　　It　was　a　rest　for　Fernanda。　During　the　boredom　of　her　abandonment　her　only　distractions　were　the　clavichord　lessons　at　siesta　time　and　the　letters　from　her　children。　In　the　detailed　messages　that　she　sent　them　every　two　weeks　there　was　not　a　single　line　of　truth。　She　hid　her　troubles　from　them。　She　hid　from　them　the　sadness　of　a　house　which；　in　spite　of　the　light　on　the　begonias；　in　spite　of　the　heaviness　at　two　in　the　afternoon；　in　spite　of　the　frequent　waves　of　festivals　that　came　in　from　the　street　was　more　and　more　like　the　colonial　mansion　of　her　parents。　Fernanda　would　wander　alone　among　the　three　living　ghosts　and　the　dead　ghost　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　who　at　times　would　e　to　sit　down　with　an　inquisitive　attention　in　the　half…light　of　the　parlor　while　she　was　playing　the　clavichord。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　a　shadow。　Since　the　last　time　that　he　had　gone　out　into　the　street　to　propose　a　war　without　any　future　to　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　he　left　the　workshop　only　to　urinate　under　the　chestnut　tree。　He　did　not　receive　any　visits　except　that　of　the　barber　every　three　weeks；　He　fed　on　anything　that　？rsula　brought　him　once　a　day；　and　even　though　he　kept　on　making　little　gold　fishes　with　the　same　passion　as　before；　he　stopped　selling　them　when　he　found　out　that　people　were　buying　them　not　as　pieces　of　jewelry　but　as　historic　relics。　He　made　a　bonfire　in　the　courtyard　of　the　dolls　of　Remedios　which　had　decorated；　their　bedroom　since　their　wedding。　The　watchful　？rsula　realized　what　her　son　was　doing　but　she　could　not　stop　him。
　　　“You　have　a　heart　of　stone；？she　told　him。
　　　“It’s　not　a　question　of　a　heart；？he　said。　“The　room’s　getting　full　of　moths。？
　　　Amaranta　was　weaving　her　shroud。　Fernanda　did　not　understand　why　she　would　write　occasional　letters　to　Meme　and　even　send　her　gifts　and　on　the　other　hand　did　not　even　want　to　hear　about　Jos？Arcadio。　“They’ll　die　without　knowing　why；？Amaranta　answered　when　she　was　asked　through　？rsula；　and　that　answer　planted　an　enigma　in　Fernanda’s　heart　that　she　was　never　able　to　clarify。　Tall；　broad…shouldered；　proud；　always　dressed　in　abundant　petticoats　with　the　lace　and　in　air　of　distinction　that　resisted　the　years　and　bad　memories；　Amaranta　seemed　to　carry　the　cross　of　ashes　of　virginity　on　her　forehead。　In　reality　she　carried　it　on　her　hand　in　the　black　bandage；　which　she　did　not　take　off　even　to　sleep　and　which　she　washed　and　ironed　herself。　Her　life　was　spent　in　weaving　her　shroud。　It　might　have　been　said　that　she　wove　during　the　day　and　unwove　during　the　night；　and　not　with　any　hope　of　defeating　solitude　in　that　way；　but；　quite　the　contrary；　in　order　to　nurture　it。
　　　The　greatest　worry　that　Fernanda　had　during　her　years　of　abandonment　was　that　Meme　would　e　to　spend　her　first　vacation　and　not　find　Aureliano　Segundo　at　home。　His　congestion　had　put　an　end　to　that　fear。　When　Meme　returned；　her　parents　had　made　an　agreement　that　not　only　would　the　girl　think　that　Aureliano　Segundo　was　still　a　domesticated　husband　but　also　that　she　would　not　notice　the　sadness　of　the　house。　Every　year　for　two　months　Aureliano　Segundo　played　his　role　of　an　exemplary　husband　and　he　organized　parties　with　ice　cream　and　cookies　which　the　gay　and　lively　schoolgirl　enhanced　with　the　clavichord。　It　was　obvious　from　then　on　that　she　had　inherited　very　little　of　her　mother’s　character。　She　seemed　more　of　a　second　version　of　Amaranta　when　the　latter　had　not　known　bitterness　and　was　arousing　the　house　with　her　dance　steps　at　the　age　of　twelve　or　fourteen　before　her　secret　passion　for　Pietro　Crespi　was　to　twist　the　direction　of　her　heart　in　the　end。　But　unlike　Amaranta；　unlike　all　of　them；　Meme　still　did　not　reveal　the　solitary　fate　of　the　family　and　she　seemed　entirely　in　conformity　with　the　world；　even　when　she　would　shut　herself　up　in　the　parlor　at　two　in　the　afternoon　to　practice　the　clavichord　with　an　inflexible　discipline。　It　was　obvious　that　she　liked　the　house；　that　she　spent　the　whole　year　dreaming　about　the　excitement　of　the　young　people　her　arrival　brought　around；　and　that　she　was　not　far　removed　from　the　festive　vocation　and　hospitable　excesses　of　her　father。　The　first　sign　of　that　calamitous　inheritance　was　revealed　on　her　third　vacation；　when　Meme　appeared　at　the　house　with　four　nuns　and　sixty…eight　classmates　whom　she　had　invited　to　spend　a　week　with　her　family　on　her　own　Initiative　and　without　any　previous　warning。
　　　“How　awful！？Fernanda　lamented。　“This　child　is　as　much　of　a　barbarian　as　her　father！？
　　　It　was　necessary　to　borrow　beds　and　hammocks　from　the　neighbors；　to　set　up　nine　shifts　at　the　table；　to　fix　hours　for　bathing；　and　to　borrow　forty　stools　so　that　the　girls　in　blue　uniforms　with　masculine　buttons　would　not　spend　the　whole　day　running　from　one　place　to　another。　The　visit　was　a　failure　because　the　noisy　schoolgirls　would　scarcely　finish　breakfast　before　they　had　to　start　taking　turns　for　lunch　and　then　for　dinner；　and　for　the　whole　week　they　were　able　to　take　only　one　walk　through　the　plantations。　At　nightfall　the　nuns　were　exhausted；　unable　to　move；　give　another　order；　and　still　the　troop　of　tireless　adolescents　was　in　the　courtyard　singing　school　songs　out　of　tune。　One　day　they　were　on　the　point　of　trampling　？rsula；　who　made　an　effort　to　be　useful　precisely　where　she　was　most　in　the　way。　On　another　day　the　nuns　got　all　excited　because　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　urinated　under　the　chestnut　tree　without　being　concerned　that　the　schoolgirls　were　in　the　courtyard。　Amaranta　was　on　the　point　of　causing　panic　because　one　of　the　nuns　went　into　the　kitchen　as　she　was　salting　the　soup　and　the　only　thing　that　occurred　to　her　to　say　was　to　ask　what　those　handfuls　of　white　powder　were。
　　　“Arsenic；？Amaranta　answered。
　　　The　night　of　their　arrival　the　students　carried　on　in　such　a　way；　trying　to　go　to　the　bathroom　before　they　went　to　bed；　that　at　one　o’clock　in　the　morning　the　last　ones　were　still　going　in。　Fernanda　then　bought　seventy…two　chamberpots　but　she　only　managed　to　change　the　nocturnal　problem　into　a　morning　one；　because　from　dawn　on　there　was　a　long　line　of　girls；　each　with　her　pot　in　her　hand；　waiting　for　her　turn　to　wash　it。　Although　some　of　them　suffered　fevers　and　several　of　them　were　infected　by　mosquito　bites；　most　of　them　showed　an　unbreakable　resistance　as　they　faced　the　most　troublesome　difficulties；　and　even　at　the　time　of　the　greatest　heat　they　would　scamper　through　the　garden。　When　they　finally　left；　the　flowers　were　destroyed；　the　furniture　broken；　and　the　walls　covered　with　drawings　and　writing；　but　Fernanda　pardoned　them　for　all　of　the　damage　because　of　her　relief　at　their　leaving。　She　returned　the　borrowed　beds　and　stools　and　kept　the　seventy…two　chamberpots　in　Melquíades？room。　The　locked　room；　about　which　the　spiritual　life　of　the　house　revolved　in　former　times；　was　known　from　that　time　on　as　the　“chamberpot　room。？For　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　it　was　the　most　appropriate　name；　because　while　the　rest　of　the　family　was　still　amazed　by　the　fact　that　Melquíades？room　was　immune　to　dust　and　destruction；　he　saw　it　turned　into　a　dunghill。　In　any　case；　it　did　not　seem　to　bother　him　who　was　correct；　and　if　he　found　out　about　the　fate　of　the　room　it　was　because　Fernanda　kept　passing　by　and　disturbing　his　work　for　a　whole　afternoon　as　she　put　away　the　chamberpots。
　　　During　those　days　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　reappeared　in　the　house。　He　went　along　the　porch　without　greeting　anyone　and　he　shut　himself　up　in　the　workshop　to　talk　to　the　colonel。　In　spite　of　the　fact　that　she　could　not　see　him；　？rsula　analyzed　the　clicking　of　his　foreman’s　boots　and　was　surprised　at　the　unbridgeable　distance　that　separated　him　from　the　family；　even　from　the　twin　brother　with　whom　he　had　played　ingenious　games　of　confusion　in　childhood　and　with　whom　he　no　longer　had　any　traits　in　mon。　He　was　linear；　solemn；　and　had　a　pensive　air　and　the　sadness　of　a　Saracen　and　a　mournful　glow　on　his　face　that　was　the　color