百年孤独(英文版)-第78部分

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inactivity　that　when　Gabriel　won　the　contest　and　left　for　Paris　with　two　changes　of　clothing；　a　pair　of　shoes；　and　the　plete　works　of　Rabelais；　he　had　to　signal　the　engineer　to　stop　the　train　and　pick　him　up。　The　old　Street　of　the　Turks　was　at　that　time　an　abandoned　corner　where　the　last　Arabs　were　letting　themselves　be　dragged　off　to　death　with　the　age…old　custom　of　sitting　in　their　doorways；　although　it　had　been　many　years　since　they　had　sold　the　last　yard　of　diagonal　cloth；　and　in　the　shadowy　showcases　only　the　decapitated　manikins　remained。　The　banana　pany’s　city；　which　Patricia　Brown　may　have　tried　to　evoke　for　her　grandchildren　during　the　nights　of　intolerance　and　dill　pickles　in　Prattville；　Alabama；　was　a　plain　of　wild　grass。　The　ancient　priest　who　had　taken　Father　Angel’s　place　and　whose　name　no　one　had　bothered　to　find　out　awaited　God’s　mercy　stretched　out　casually　in　a　hammock；　tortured　by　arthritis　and　the　insomnia　of　doubt　while　the　lizards　and　rats　fought　over　the　inheritance　of　the　nearby　church。　In　that　Macondo　forgotten　even　by　the　birds；　where　the　dust　and　the　heat　had　bee　so　strong　that　it　was　difficult　to　breathe；　secluded　by　solitude　and　love　and　by　the　solitude　of　love　in　a　house　where　it　was　almost　impossible　to　sleep　because　of　the　noise　of　the　red　ants；　Aureliano；　and　Amaranta　？rsula　were　the　only　happy　beings；　and　the　most　happy　on　the　face　of　the　earth。
　　　Gaston　had　returned　to　Brussels。　Tired　of　waiting　for　the　airplane；　one　day　he　put　his　indispensable　things　into　a　small　suitcase；　took　his　file　of　correspondence；　and　left　with　the　idea　of　returning　by　air　before　his　concession　was　turned　over　to　a　group　of　German　pilots　who　had　presented　the　provincial　authorities　with　a　more　ambitious　project　than　his。　Since　the　afternoon　of　their　first　love；　Aureliano　and　Amaranta　？rsula　had　continued　taking　advantage　of　her　husband’s　rare　unguarded　moments；　making　love　with　gagged　ardor　in　chance　meetings　and　almost　always　interrupted　by　unexpected　returns。　But　when　they　saw　themselves　alone　in　the　house　they　succumbed　to　the　delirium　of　lovers　who　were　making　up　for　lost　time。　It　was　a　mad　passion；　unhinging；　which　made　Fernanda’s　bones　tremble　with　horror　in　her　grave　and　which　kept　them　in　a　state　of　perpetual　excitement。　Amaranta　？rsula’s　shrieks；　her　songs　of　agony　would　break　out　the　same　at　two　in　the　afternoon　on　the　dining…room　table　as　at　two　in　the　morning　in　the　pantry。　“What　hurts　me　most；？she　would　say；　laughing；　“is　all　the　time　that　we　wasted。？In　the　bewilderment　of　passion　she　watched　the　ants　devastating　the　garden；　sating　their　prehistoric　hunger　with　the　beam　of　the　house；　and　she　watched　the　torrents　of　living　lava　take　over　the　porch　again；　but　she　bothered　to　fight　them　only　when　she　found　them　in　her　bedroom。　Aureliano　abandoned　the　parchments；　did　not　leave　the　house　again；　and　carelessly　answered　the　letters　from　the　wise　Catalonian。　They　lost　their　sense　of　reality；　the　notion　of　time；　the　rhythm　of　daily　habits。　They　closed　the　doors　and　windows　again　so　as　not　to　waste　time　getting　undressed　and　they　walked　about　the　house　as　Remedios　the　Beauty　had　wanted　to　do　and　they　would　roll　around　naked　in　the　mud　of　the　courtyard；　and　one　afternoon　they　almost　drowned　as　they　made　love　in　the　cistern。　In　a　short　time　they　did　more　damage　than　the　red　ants：　they　destroyed　the　furniture　in　the　parlor；　in　their　madness　they　tore　to　shreds　the　hammock　that　had　resisted　the　sad　bivouac　loves　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　they　disemboweled　the　mattresses　and　emptied　them　on　the　floor　as　they　suffocated　in　storms　of　cotton。　Although　Aureliano　was　just　as　ferocious　a　lover　as　his　rival；　it　was　Amaranta　？rsula　who　ruled　in　that　paradise　of　disaster　with　her　mad　genius　and　her　lyrical　voracity；　as　if　she　had　concentrated　in　her　love　the　unconquerable　energy　that　her　great…great…grandmother　had　given　to　the　making　of　little　candy　animals。　And　yet；　while　she　was　singing　with　pleasure　and　dying　with　laughter　over　her　own　inventions；　Aureliano　was　being　more　and　more　absorbed　and　silent；　for　his　passion　was　self…centered　and　burning。　Nevertheless；　they　both　reached　such　extremes　of　virtuosity　that　when　they　became　exhausted　from　excitement；　they　would　take　advantage　of　their　fatigue。　They　would　give　themselves　over　to　the　worship　of　their　bodies；　discovering　that　the　rest　periods　of　love　had　unexplored　possibilities；　much　richer　than　those　of　desire。　While　he　would　rub　Amaranta　？rsula’s　erect　breasts　with　egg　whites　or　smooth　her　elastic　thighs　and　peach…like　stomach　with　cocoa　butter；　she　would　play　with　Aureliano’s　portentous　creature　as　if　it　were　a　doll　and　would　paint　clown’s　eyes　on　it　with　her　lipstick　and　give　it　a　Turk’s　mustache　with　her　eyebrow　pencil；　and　would　put　on　organza　bow　ties　and　little　tinfoil　hats。　One　night　they　daubed　themselves　from　head　to　toe　with　peach　jam　and　licked　each　other　like　dogs　and　made　mad　love　on　the　floor　of　the　porch；　and　they　were　awakened　by　a　torrent　of　carnivorous　ants　who　were　ready　to　eat　them　alive。
　　　During　the　pauses　in　their　delirium；　Amaranta　？rsula　would　answer　Gaston’s　letters。　She　felt　him　to　be　so　far　away　and　busy　that　his　return　seemed　impossible　to　her。　In　one　of　his　first　letters　he　told　her　that　his　Partners　had　actually　sent　the　airplane；　but　that　a　shipping　agent　in　Brussels　had　sent　it　by　mistake　to　Tanganyika；　where　it　was　delivered　to　the　scattered　tribe　of　the　Makondos。　That　mix…up　brought　on　so　many　difficulties　that　just　to　get　the　plane　back　might　take　two　years。　So　Amaranta　？rsula　dismissed　the　possibility　of　an　inopportune　return。　Aureliano；　for　his　part；　had　no　other　contact　with　the　world　except　for　the　letters　from　the　wise　Catalonian　and　the　news　he　had　of　Gabriel　through　Mercedes；　the　silent　pharmacist。　At　first　they　were　real　contacts。　Gabriel　had　turned　in　his　return　ticket　in　order　to　stay　in　Paris；　selling　the　old　newspapers　and　empty　bottles　that　the　chambermaids　threw　out　of　a　gloomy　hotel　on　the　Rue　Dauphine。　Aureliano　could　visualize　him　then　in　a　turtleneck　sweater　which　he　took　off　only　when　the　sidewalk　Cafés　on　Montparnasse　filled　with　springtime　lovers；　and　sleeping　by　day　and　writing　by　night　in　order　to　confuse　hunger　in　the　room　that　smelled　of　boiled　cauliflower　where　Rocamadour　was　to　die。　Nevertheless；　news　about　him　was　slowly　being　so　uncertain；　and　the　letters　from　the　wise　man　so　sporadic　and　melancholy；　that　Aureliano　grew　to　think　about　them　as　Amaranta　？rsula　thought　about　her　husband；　and　both　of　them　remained　floating　in　an　empty　universe　where　the　only　everyday　and　eternal　reality　was　love。
　　　Suddenly；　like　the　stampede　in　that　world　of　happy　unawareness；　came　the　news　of　Gaston’s　return。　Aureliano　and　Amaranta　？rsula　opened　their　eyes；　dug　deep　into　their　souls；　looked　at　the　letter　with　their　hands　on　their　hearts；　and　understood　that　they　were　so　close　to　each　other　that　they　preferred　death　to　separation。　Then　she　wrote　her　husband　a　letter　of　contradictory　truths　in　which　she　repeated　her　love　and　said　how　anxious　she　was　to　see　him　again；　but　at　the　same　time　she　admitted　as　a　design　of　fate　the　impossibility　of　living　without　Aureliano。　Contrary　to　what　they　had　expected；　Gaston　sent　them　a　calm；　almost　paternal　reply；　with　two　whole　pages　devoted　to　a　warning　against　the　fickleness　of　passion　and　a　final　paragraph　with　unmistakable　wishes　for　them　to　be　as　happy　as　he　had　been　during　his　brief　conjugal　experience。　It　was　such　an　unforeseen　attitude　that　Amaranta　？rsula　felt　humiliated　by　the　idea　that　she　had　given　her　husband　the　pretext　that　he　had　wanted　in　order　to　abandon　her　to　her　fate。　The　rancor　was　aggravated　six　months　later　when　Gaston　wrote　again　from　Léopoldville；　where　he　had　finally　recovered　the　airplane；　simply　to　ask　them　to　ship　him　the　velocipede；　which　of　all　that　he　had　left　behind　in　Macondo　was　the　only　thing　that　had　any　sentimental　value　for　him。　Aureliano　bore　Amaranta　？rsula’s　spite　patiently　and　made　an　effort　to　show　her　that　he　could　be　as　good　a　husband　in　adversity　as　in　prosperity；　and　the　daily　needs　that　besieged　them　when　Gaston’s　last　money　ran　out　created　a　bond　of　solidarity　between　them　that　was　not　as　dazzling　and　heady　as　passion；　but　that　let　them　make　love　as　much　and　be　as　happy　as　during　their　uproarious　and　salacious　days。　At　the　time　Pilar　Ternera　died　they　were　expecting　a　child。
　　　In　the　lethargy　of　her　pregnancy；　Amaranta　？rsula　tried　to　set　up　a　business　in　necklaces　made　out　of　the　backbones　of　fish。　But　except　for　Mercedes；　who　bought　a　dozen；　she　could　not　find　any　customers。　Aureliano　was　aware　for　the　first　time　that　his　gift　for　languages；　his　encyclopedic　knowledge；　his　rare　faculty　for　remembering　the　details　of　remote　deeds　and　places　without　having　been　there；　were　as　useless　as　the　box　of　genuine　jewelry　that　his　wife　owned；　which　must　have　been　worth　as　much　as　all　the　money　that　the　last　inhabitants　of　Macondo　could　have　put　together。　They　survived　miraculously。　Although　Amaranta　？rsula　did　not　lose　her　good　humor　or　her　genius　for　erotic　mischief；　she　acquired　the　habit　of　sitting　on　the　porch　after　lunch　in　a　kind　of　wakeful　and　thoughtful　siesta。　Aureliano　would　acpany　her。　Sometimes　they　would　remain　there　in　silence　until　nightfall；　opposite　each　other；　looking　into　each　other’s　eyes；　loving　each　other　as　much　as　in　their　scandalous　days。　The　uncertainty　of　the　future　made　them　turn　their　hearts　toward　the　past。　They　saw　themselves　in　the　lost　paradise　of　the　deluge；　splashing　in　the　puddles　in　the　courtyard；　killing　lizards　to　hang　on　？rsula；　pretending　that　they　were　going　to　bury　her　alive；　and　those　memories　revealed　to　them　the　truth　that　they　had　been　happy　together　ever　since　they　had　had　memory。　Going　deeper　into　the　past；　Amaranta　？rsula　remembered　the　afternoon　on　which　she　had　gone　into　the　silver　shop　and　her　mother　told　her　that　little　Aureliano　was　nobody’s　child　because　he　had　been　found　floating　in　a　basket。　Although　the　version　seemed　unlikely　to　them；　they　did　not　have　any　information　enabling　them　to　replace　it　with　the　true　one。　All　that　they　were　sure　of　after　examining　an　the　possibilities　was　that　Fernanda　was　not　Aureliano’s　mother。　Amaranta　？rsula　was　inclined　to　believe　that　he