百年孤独(英文版)-第58部分

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e　electrified　chicken　yard　so　that　they　could　enjoy；　as　he　explained　it；　the　dignity　that　their　status　warranted　and　so　that　they　would　not　suffer　from　the　heat　and　the　mosquitoes　and　the　countless　disforts　and　privations　of　the　town。　The　old　policemen　were　replaced　by　hired　assassins　with　machetes。　Shut　up　in　his　workshop；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　thought　about　those　changes　and　for　the　first　time　in　his　quiet　years　of　solitude　he　was　tormented　by　the　definite　certainty　that　it　had　been　a　mistake　not　to　have　continued　the　war　to　its　final　conclusion。　During　that　time　a　brother　of　the　forgotten　Colonel　Magnífico　Visbal　was　taking　his　seven…year…old　grandson　to　get　a　soft　drink　at　one　of　the　pushcarts　on　the　square　and　because　the　child　accidentally　bumped　into　a　corporal　of　police　and　spilled　the　drink　on　his　uniform；　the　barbarian　cut　him　to　pieces　with　his　machete；　and　with　one　stroke　he　cut　off　the　head　of　the　grandfather　as　he　tried　to　stop　him。　The　whole　town　saw　the　decapitated　man　pass　by　as　a　group　of　men　carried　him　to　his　house；　with　a　woman　dragging　the　head　along　by　its　hair；　and　the　bloody　sack　with　the　pieces　of　the　child。
　　　For　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　it　meant　the　limits　of　atonement。　He　suddenly　found　himself　suffering　from　the　same　indignation　that　he　had　felt　in　his　youth　over　the　body　of　the　woman　who　had　been　beaten　to　death　because　she　had　been　bitten　by　a　rabid　dog。　He　looked　at　the　groups　of　bystanders　in　front　of　the　house　and　with　his　old　stentorian　voice；　restored　by　a　deep　disgust　with　himself；　he　unloaded　upon　them　the　burden　of　hate　that　he　could　no　longer　bear　in　his　heart。
　　　“One　of　these　days；？he　shouted；　I’m　going　to　arm　my　boys　so　we　can　get　rid　of　these　shitty　gringos！？
　　　During　the　course　of　that　week；　at　different　places　along　the　coast；　his　seventeen　sons　were　hunted　down　like　rabbits　by　invisible　criminals　who　aimed　at　the　center　of　their　crosses　of　ash。　Aureliano　Triste　was　leaving　the　house　with　his　mother　at　seven　in　the　evening　when　a　rifle　shot　came　out　of　the　darkness　and　perforated　his　forehead。　Aureliano　Centeno　was　found　in　the　hammock　that　he　was　accustomed　to　hang　up　in　the　factory　with　an　icepick　between　his　eyebrows　driven　in　up　to　the　handle。　Aureliano　Serrador　had　left　his　girl　friend　at　her　parents？house　after　having　taken　her　to　the　movies　and　was　returning　through　the　well…lighted　Street　of　the　Turks　when　someone　in　the　crowd　who　was　never　identified　fired　a　revolver　shot　which　knocked　him　over　into　a　caldron　of　boiling　lard。　A　few　minutes　later　someone　knocked　at　the　door　of　the　room　where　Aureliano　Arcaya　was　shut　up　with　a　woman　and　shouted　to　him：　“Hurry　up；　they’re　killing　your　brothers。？The　woman　who　was　with　him　said　later　that　Aureliano　Arcaya　jumped　out　of　bed　and　opened　the　door　and　was　greeted　with　the　discharge　of　a　Mauser　that　split　his　head　open。　On　that　night　of　death；　while　the　house　was　preparing　to　hold　a　wake　for　the　four　corpses；　Fernanda　ran　through　the　town　like　a　madwoman　looking　for　Aureliano　Segundo；　whom　Petra　Cotes　had　locked　up　in　a　closet；　thinking　that　the　order　of　extermination　included　all　who　bore　the　colonel’s　name。　She　would　not　let　him　out　until　the　fourth　day；　when　the　telegrams　received　from　different　places　along　the　coast　made　it　clear　that　the　fury　of　the　invisible　enemy　was　directed　only　at　the　brothers　marked　with　the　crosses　of　ash。　Amaranta　fetched　the　ledger　where　she　had　written　down　the　facts　about　her　nephews　and　as　the　telegrams　arrived　she　drew　lines　through　the　names　until　only　that　of　the　eldest　remained。　They　remembered　him　very　well　because　of　the　contrast　between　his　dark　skin　and　his　green　eyes。　His　name　was　Aureliano　Amador　and　he　was　a　carpenter；　living　in　a　village　hidden　in　the　foothills。　After　waiting　two　weeks　for　the　telegram　telling　of　his　death；　Aureliano　Segundo　sent　a　messenger　to　him　in　order　to　warn　him；　thinking　that　he　might　not　know　about　the　threat　that　hung　over　him。　The　emissary　returned　with　the　news　that　Aureliano　Amador　was　safe。　The　night　of　the　extermination　two　men　had　gone　to　get　him　at　his　house　and　had　shot　at　him　with　their　revolvers　but　they　had　missed　the　cross　of　ashes。　Aureliano　Amador　had　been　able　to　leap　over　the　wall　of　the　courtyard　and　was　lost　in　the　labyrinth　of　the　mountains；　which　he　knew　like　the　back　of　his　hand　thanks　to　the　friendship　he　maintained　with　the　Indians；　from　whom　he　bought　wood。　Nothing　more　was　heard　of　him。
　　　Those　were　dark　days　for　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía。　The　president　of　the　republic　sent　him　a　telegram　of　condolence　in　which　he　promised　an　exhaustive　investigation　and　paid　homage　to　the　dead　men。　At　his　mand；　the　mayor　appeared　at　the　services　with　four　funeral　wreaths；　which　he　tried　to　place　on　the　coffins；　but　the　colonel　ordered　him　into　the　street。　After　the　burial　he　drew　up　and　personally　submitted　to　the　president　of　the　republic　a　violent　telegram；　which　the　telegrapher　refused　to　send。　Then　he　enriched　it　with　terms　of　singular　aggressiveness；　put　it　in　an　envelope；　and　mailed　it。　As　had　happened　with　the　death　of　his　wife；　as　had　happened　to　him　so　many　times　during　the　war　with　the　deaths　of　his　best　friends；　he　did　not　have　a　feeling　of　sorrow　but　a　blind　and　directionless　rage；　a　broad　feeling　of　impotence。　He　even　accused　Father　Antonio　Isabel　of　plicity　for　having　marked　his　sons　with　indelible　ashes　so　that　they…could　be　identified　by　their　enemies。　The　decrepit　priest；　who　could　no　longer　string　ideas　together　and　who　was　beginning　to　startle　his　parishioners　with　the　wild　interpretations　he　gave　from　the　pulpit；　appeared　one　afternoon　at　the　house　with　the　goblet　in　which　he　had　prepared　the　ashes　that　Wednesday　and　he　tried　to　anoint　the　whole　family　with　them　to　show　that　they　could　be　washed　off　with　water。　But　the　horror　of　the　misfortune　had　penetrated　so　deeply　that　not　even　Fernanda　would　let　him　experiment　on　her　and　never　again　was　a　Buendía　seen　to　kneel　at　the　altar　rail　on　Ash　Wednesday。
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　did　not　recover　his　calm　for　a　long　time。　He　abandoned　the　manufacture　of　little　fishes；　ate　with　great　difficulty；　and　wandered　all　through　the　house　as　if　walking　in　his　sleep；　dragging　his　blanket　and　chewing　on　his　quiet　rage。　At　the　end　of　three　months　his　hair　was　ashen；　his　old　waxed　mustache　poured　down　beside　his　colorless　lips；　but；　on　the　other　hand；　his　eyes　were　once　more　the　burning　coals　that　had　startled　those　who　had　seen　him　born　and　that　in　other　days　had　made　chairs　rock　with　a　simple　glance。　In　the　fury　of　his　torment　he　tried　futilely　to　rouse　the　omens　that　had　guided　his　youth　along　dangerous　paths　into　the　desolate　wasteland　of　glory。　He　was　lost；　astray　in　a　strange　house　where　nothing　and　no　one　now　stirred　in　him　the　slightest　vestige　of　affection。　Once　he　opened　Melquíades？room；　looking　for　the　traces　of　a　past　from　before　the　war；　and　he　found　only　rubble；　trash；　piles　of　waste　accumulated　over　all　the　years　of　abandonment。　Between　the　covers　of　the　books　that　no　one　had　ever　read　again；　in　the　old　parchments　damaged　by　dampness；　a　livid　flower　had　prospered；　and　in　the　air　that　had　been　the　purest　and　brightest　in　the　house　an　unbearable　smell　of　rotten　memories　floated。　One　morning　he　found　？rsula　weeping　under　the　chestnut　tree　at　the　knees　of　her　dead　husband。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　the　only　inhabitant　of　the　house　who　still　did　not　see　the　powerful　old　man　who　had　been　beaten　down　by　half　a　century　in　the　open　air。　“Say　hello　to　your　father；？？rsula　told　him。　He　stopped　for　an　instant　in　front　of　the　chestnut　tree　and　once　again　he　saw　that　the　empty　space　before　him　did　not　arouse　an　affection　either。
　　　“What　does　he　say？？he　asked。
　　　“He’s　very　sad；？？rsula　answered；　“because　he　thinks　that　you’re　going　to　die。？
　　　“Tell　him；？the　colonel　said；　smiling；　“that　a　person　doesn’t　die　when　he　should　but　when　he　can。？
　　　The　omen　of　the；　dead　father　stirred　up　the　last　remnant　of　pride　that　was　left　in　his　heart；　but　he　confused　it　with　a　sudden　gust　of　strength。　It　was　for　that　reason　that　he　hounded　？rsula　to　tell　him　where　in　the　courtyard　the　gold　coins　that　they　had　found　inside　the　plaster　Saint　Joseph　were　buried。　“You’ll　never　kno