百年孤独(英文版)-第96部分

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　to　the　house　with　a　sheet　of　paper　inside　bearing　the　colonel’s　delicate　hand：　Take　good　care　of　Papa　because　he　is　going　to　die。　？rsula　became　alarmed。　“If　Aureliano　says　so　it’s　because　Aureliano　knows；？she　said。　And　she　had　them　help　her　take　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　to　his　bedroom。　Not　only　was　he　as　heavy　as　ever；　but　during　his　prolonged　stay　under　the　chestnut　tree　he　had　developed　the　faculty　of　being　able　to　increase　his　weight　at　will；　to　such　a　degree　that　seven　men　were　unable　to　lift　him　and　they　had　to　drag　him　to　the　bed。　A　smell　of　tender　mushrooms；　of　wood…flower　fungus；　of　old　and　concentrated　outdoors　impregnated　the　air　of　the　bedroom　as　it　was　breathed　by　the　colossal　old　man　weather…beaten　by　the　sun　and　the　rain。　The　next　morning　he　was　not　in　his　bed。　In　spite　of　his　undiminished　strength；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　in　no　condition　to　resist。　It　was　all　the　same　to　him。　If　he　went　back　to　the　chestnut　tree　it　was　not　because　he　wanted　to　but　because　of　a　habit　of　his　body。　？rsula　took　care　of　him；　fed　him；　brought　him　news　of　Aureliano。　But　actually；　the　only　person　with　whom　he　was　able　to　have　contact　for　a　long　time　was　Prudencio　Aguilar。　Almost　pulverized　at　that　time　by　the　decrepitude　of　death；　Prudencio　Aguilar　would　e　twice　a　day　to　chat　with　him。　They　talked　about　fighting　cocks。　They　promised　each　other　to　set　up　a　breeding　farm　for　magnificent　birds；　not　so　much　to　enjoy　their　victories；　which　they　would　not　need　then；　as　to　have　something　to　do　on　the　tedious　Sundays　of　death。　It　was　Prudencio　Aguilar　who　cleaned　him　fed　him　and　brought　him　splendid　news　of　an　unknown　person　called　Aureliano　who　was　a　colonel　in　the　war。　When　he　was　alone；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　consoled　himself　with　the　dream　of　the　infinite　rooms。　He　dreamed　that　he　was　getting　out　of　bed；　opening　the　door　and　going　into　an　identical　room　with　the　same　bed　with　a　wrought…iron　head；　the　same　wicker　chair；　and　the　same　small　picture　of　the　Virgin　of　Help　on　the　back　wall。　From　that　room　he　would　go　into　another　that　was　just　the　same；　the　door　of　which　would　open　into　another　that　was　just　the　same；　the　door　of　which　would　open　into　another　one　just　the　same；　and　then　into　another　exactly　alike；　and　so　on　to　infinity。　He　liked　to　go　from　room　to　room。　As　in　a　gallery　of　parallel　mirrors；　until　Prudencio　Aguilar　would　touch　him　on　the　shoulder。　Then　he　would　go　back　from　room　to　room；　walking　in　reverse；　going　back　over　his　trail；　and　he　would　find　Prudencio　Aguilar　in　the　room　of　reality。　But　one　night；　two　weeks　after　they　took　him　to　his　bed；　Prudencio　Aguilar　touched　his　shoulder　in　an　intermediate　room　and　he　stayed　there　forever；　thinking　that　it　was　the　real　room。　On　the　following　morning　？rsula　was　bringing　him　his　breakfast　when　she　saw　a　man　ing　along　the　hall。　He　was　short　and　stocky；　with　a　black　suit　on　and　a　hat　that　was　also　black；　enormous；　pulled　down　to　his　taciturn　eyes。　“Good　Lord；？？rsula　thought；　“I　could　have　sworn　it　was　Melquíades。？It　was　Cataure；　Visitación’s　brother；　who　had　left　the　house　fleeing　from　the　insomnia　plague　and　of　whom　there　had　never　been　any　news。　Visitación　asked　him　why　he　had　e　back；　and　he　answered　her　in　their　solemn　language：
　　　“I　have　e　for　the　exequies　of　the　king。？
　　　Then　they　went　into　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　room；　shook　him　as　hard　as　they　could；　shouted　in　his　ear；　put　a　mirror　in　front　of　his　nostrils；　but　they　could　not　awaken　him。　A　short　time　later；　when　the　carpenter　was　taking　measurements　for　the　coffin；　through　the　window　they　saw　a　light　rain　of　tiny　yellow　flowers　falling。　They　fell　on　the　town　all　through　the　night　in　a　silent　storm；　and　they　covered　the　roofs　and　blocked　the　doors　and　smothered　the　animals　who　dept　outdoors。　So　many　flowers　fell　from　the　sky　that　in　the　morning　the　streets　were　carpeted　with　a　pact　cushion　and　they　had　to　clear　them　away　with　shovels　and　rakes　so　that　the　funeral　procession　could　pass　by。

Chapter　8
SITTNG　IN　THE　WICKER　ROCKING　chair　with　her　interrupted　work　in　her　lap；　Amaranta　watched　Aureliano；　Jos？；　his　chin　covered　with　foam；　stropping　his　razor　to　give　himself　his　first　shave。　His　blackheads　bled　and　he　cut　his　upper　lip　as　he　tried　to　shape　a　mustache　of　blond　fuzz　and　when　it　was　all　over　he　looked　the　same　as　before；　but　the　laborious　process　gave　Amaranta　the　feeling　that　she　had　begun　to　grow　old　at　that　moment。
　　　“You　look　just　like　Aureliano　when　he　was　your　age；？she　said。　“You’re　a　man　now。？
　　　He　had　been　for　a　long　time；　ever　since　that　distant　day　when　Amaranta　thought　he　was　still　a　child　and　continued　getting　undressed　in　front　of　him　in　the　bathroom　as　she　had　always　done；　as　she　had　been　used　to　doing　ever　since　Pilar　Ternera　had　turned　him　over　to　her　to　finish　his　upbringing。　The　first　time　that　he　saw　her　the　only　thing　that　drew　his　attention　was　the　deep　depression　between　her　breasts。　He　was　so　innocent　that　he　asked　her　what　had　happened　to　her　and　Amaranta　pretended　to　dig　into　her　breasts　with　the　tips　of　her　fingers　and　answered：　“They　gave　me　some　terrible　cuts。？Some　time　later；　when　she　had　recovered　from　Pietro　Crespi’s　suicide　and　would　bathe　with　Aureliano　Jos？again；　he　no　longer　paid　attention　to　the　depression　but　felt　a　strange　trembling　at　the　sight　of　the　splendid　breasts　with　their　brown　nipples。　He　kept　on　examining　her；　discovering　the　miracle　of　her　intimacy　inch　by　inch；　and　he　felt　his　skin　tingle　as　he　contemplated　the　way　her　skin　tingled　when　it　touched　the　water。　Ever　since　he　was　a　small　child　he　had　the　custom　of　leaving　his　hammock　and　waking　up　in　Amaranta’s　bed；　because　contact　with　her　was　a　way　of　overing　his　fear　of　the　dark。　But　since　that　day　when　he　became　aware　of　his　own　nakedness；　it　was　not　fear　of　the　dark　that　drove　him　to　crawl　in　under　her　mosquito　netting　but　an　urge　to　feel　Amaranta’s　warm　breathing　at　dawn。　Early　one　morning　during　the　time　when　she　refused　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　Aureliano　Jos？awoke　with　the　feeling　that　he　could　not　breathe。　He　felt　Amaranta’s　fingers　searching　across　his　stomach　like　warm　and　anxious　little　caterpillars。　Pretending　to　sleep；　he　changed　his　position　to　make　it　easier；　and　then　he　felt　the　hand　without　the　black　bandage　diving　like　a　blind　shellfish　into　the　algae　of　his　anxiety。　Although　they　seemed　to　ignore　what　both　of　them　knew　and　what　each　one　knew　that　the　other　knew；　from　that　night　on　they　were　yoked　together　in　an　inviolable　plicity。　Aureliano　Jos？could　not　get　to　sleep　until　he　heard　the　twelve…o’clock　waltz　on　the　parlor　dock；　and　the　mature　maiden　whose　skin　was　beginning　to　grow　sad　did　not　have　a　moments？rest　until　she　felt　slip　in　under　her　mosquito　netting　that　sleepwalker　whom　she　had　raised；　not　thinking　that　he　would　be　a　palliative　for　her　solitude。　Later　they　not　only　slept　together；　naked；　exchanging　exhausting　caresses；　but　they　would　also　chase　each　other　into　the　corners　of　the　house　and　shut　themselves　up　in　the　bedrooms　at　any　hour　of　the　day　in　a　permanent　state　of　unrelieved　excitement。　They　were　almost　discovered　by　？rsula　one　afternoon　when　she　went　into　the　granary　as　they　were　starting　to　kiss。　“Do　you　love　your　aunt　a　lot？？she　asked　Aureliano　Jos？in　an　innocent　way。　He　answered　that　he　did。　“That’s　good　of　you；？？rsula　concluded　and　finished　measuring　the　flour　for　the　bread　and　returned　to　the　kitchen。　That　episode　drew　Amaranta　out　of　her　delirium。　She　realized　that　she　had　gone　too　far；　that　she　was　no　longer　playing　kissing　games　with　a　child；　but　was　floundering　about　in　an　autumnal　passion；　one　that　was　dangerous　and　had　no　future；　and　she　cut　it　off　with　one　stroke。　Aureliano　Jos？　who　was　then　finishing　his　military　training；　finally　woke　up　to　reality　and　went　to　sleep　in　the　barracks。　On　Saturdays　he　would　go　with　the　soldiers　to　Catarino’s　store。　He　was　seeking　consolation　for　his　abrupt　solitude；　for　his　premature　adolescence　with　women　who　smelled　of　dead　flowers；　whom　he　idealized　in　the　darkness　and　changed　into　Amaranta　by　means　of　the　anxious　efforts　of　his　imagination。
　　　A　short　time　later　contradictory　news　of　the　war　began　to　e　in。　While　the　government　itself　admitted　the　progress　of　the　rebellion；　the　officers　in　Macondo　had　confidential　repo