百年孤独(英文版)-第29部分
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pregnant again。 She decided to write to Colonel Aureliano Buendía； wherever he was； to bring him up to date on the situation。 But the fast…moving events of those days not only prevented her plans from being carried out； they made her regret having conceived them。 The war； which until then had been only a word to designate a vague and remote circumstance； became a concrete and dramatic reality。 Around the end of February an old woman with an ashen look arrived in Macondo riding a donkey loaded down with brooms。 She seemed so inoffensive that the sentries let her pass without any questions as another vendor； one of the many who often arrived from the towns in the swamp。 She went directly to the barracks。 Arcadio received her in the place where the classroom used to be and which at that time had been transformed into a kind of rearguard encampment； with roiled hammocks hanging on hooks and mats piled up in the corners； and rifles and carbines and even hunting shotguns scattered on the floor。 The old woman stiffened into a military salute before identifying herself：
“I am Colonel Gregorio Stevenson。？
He brought bad news。 The last centers of Liberal resistance； according to what he said； were being wiped out。 Colonel Aureliano Buendía； whom he had left fighting in retreat near Riohacha； had given him a message for Arcadio。 He should surrender the town without resistance on the condition that the lives and property of Liberals would be respected。 Arcadio examined that strange messenger who could have been a fugitive grandmother with a look of pity。
“You have brought something in writing； naturally；？he said。
“Naturally；？the emissary answered； “I have brought nothing of the sort。 It’s easy to understand that under the present circumstances a person can’t carry anything that would promise him。？
As he was speaking he reached into his bodice and took out a small gold fish。 “I think that this will be sufficient；？he said。 Arcadio could see that indeed it was one of the little fishes made by Colonel Aureliano Buendía。 But anyone could have bought it before the war or stolen it； and it had no merit as a safe…conduct pass。 The messenger even went to the extreme of violating a military secret so that they would believe his identity。 He revealed that he was on a mission to Cura？ao； where he hoped to recruit exiles from all over the Caribbean and acquire arms and supplies sufficient to attempt a landing at the end of the year。 With faith in that plan； Colonel Aureliano Buendía was not in favor of any useless sacrifices at that time。 But Arcadio was inflexible。 He had the prisoner put into the stocks until he could prove his identity and he resolved to defend the town to the death。
He did not have long to wait。 The news of the Liberal defeat was more and more concrete。 Toward the end of March； before a dawn of premature rain； the tense calm of the previous weeks was abruptly broken by the desperate sounds of a cornet and a cannon shot that knocked down the steeple of the church。 Actually； Arcadio’s decision to resist was madness。 He had only fifty poorly armed men with a ration of twenty cartridges apiece。 But among them； his former pupils； excited by the high…sounding proclamations； the determination reigned to sacrifice their skins for a lost cause。 In the midst of the tramping of boots； contradictory mands； cannon shots that made the earth tremble； wild shooting； and the senseless sound of cornets； the supposed Colonel Stevenson managed to speak to Arcadio。 “Don’t let me undergo the indignity of dying in the stocks in these women’s clothes；？he said to him。 “If I have to die； let me die fighting。？He succeeded in convincing him。 Arcadio ordered them to give him a weapon and twenty cartridges； and he left him with five men to defend headquarters while he went off with his staff to head up the resistance。 He did not get to the road to the swamp。 The barricades had been broken and the defenders were openly fighting in the streets； first until they used up their ration of rifle bullets； then with pistols against rifles； and finally hand to hand。 With the imminence of defeat； some women went into the street armed with sticks and kitchen knives。 In that confusion Arcadio found Amaranta； who was looking for him like a madwoman； in her nightgown and with two old pistols that had belonged to Jos？Arcadio Buendía。 He gave his rifle to an officer who had been disarmed in the fight and escaped with Amaranta through a nearby street to take her home。 ？rsula was； in the doorway waiting； indifferent to the cannon shots that had opened up a hole in the front of the house next door。 The rain was letting up； but the streets were as slippery and as smooth as melted soap； and one had to guess distances in the darkness。 Arcadio left Amaranta with ？rsula and made an attempt to face two soldiers who had opened up with heavy firing from the corner。 The old pistols that had been kept for many years in the bureau did not work。 Protecting Arcadio with her body； ？rsula tried to drag him toward the house。
“e along in the name of God；？she shouted at him。 “There’s been enough madness！？
The soldiers aimed at them。
“Let go of that man； ma’am；？one of them shouted； “or we won’t be responsible！？
Arcadio pushed ？rsula toward the house and surrendered。 A short time later the shooting stopped and the bells began to toll。 The resistance had been wiped out in less than half an hour。 Not a single one of Arcadio’s men had survived the attack； but before dying they had killed three hundred soldiers。 The last stronghold was the barracks。 Before being attacked； the supposed Colonel Gregorio Stevenson had freed the prisoners and ordered his men to go out and fight in the street。 The extraordinary mobility and accurate aim with which he placed his twenty cartridges gave the impression that the barracks was well…defended； and the attackers blew it to pieces with cannon fire。 The captain who directed the operation was startled to find the rubble deserted and a single dead man in his undershorts with an empty rifle still clutched in an arm that had been blown pletely off。 He had a woman’s full head of hair held at the neck with a b and on his neck a chain with a small gold fish。 When he turned him over with the tip of his boot and put the light on his face； the captain was perplexed。 “Jesus Christ；？he exclaimed。 Other officers came over。
“Look where this fellow turned up；？the captain said。 “It’s Gregorio Stevenson。？
At dawn； after a summary court martial； Arcadio was shot against the wall of the cemetery。 In the last two hours of his life he did not manage to understand why the fear that had tormented him since childhood had disappeared。 Impassive。 without even worrying about making a show of his recent bravery； he listened to the interminable charges of the accusation。 He thought about ？rsula； who at that hour must have been under the chestnut tree having coffee with Jos？Arcadio Buendía。 He thought about his eight…month…old daughter； who still had no name； and about the child who was going to be born in August。 He thought about Santa Sofía de la Piedad； whom he had left the night before salting down a deer for next day’s lunch； and he missed her hair pouring over her shoulders and her eyelashes； which looked as if they were artificial。 He thought about his people without sentimentality； with a strict dosing of his accounts with life； beginning to understand how much he really loved the people he hated most。 The president of the court…martial began his final speech when Arcadio realized that two hours had passed。 “Even if the proven charges did not have merit enough；？the president was saying； “the irresponsible and criminal boldness with which the accused drove his subordinates on to a useless death would be enough to deserve capital punishment。？In the shattered schoolhouse where for the first time he had felt the security of power； a few feet from the room where he had e to know the uncertainty of love； Arcadio found the formality of death ridiculous。 Death really did not matter to him but life did； and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia。 He did not spe
