百年孤独(英文版)-第100部分

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　and　were　being　read　under　the　dazzling　splendor　of　high　noon；　he　began　to　decipher　them　aloud。　It　was　the　history　of　the　family；　written　by　Melquíades；　down　to　the　most　trivial　details；　one　hundred　years　ahead　of　time。　He　had　written　it　in　Sanskrit；　which　was　his　mother　tongue；　and　he　had　encoded　the　even　lines　in　the　private　cipher　of　the　Emperor　Augustus　and　the　odd　ones　in　a　Lacedemonian　military　code。　The　final　protection；　which　Aureliano　had　begun　to　glimpse　when　he　let　himself　be　confused　by　the　love　of　Amaranta　？rsula；　was　based　on　the　fact　that　Melquíades　had　not　put　events　in　the　order　of　man’s　conventional　time；　but　had　concentrated　a　century　of　daily　episodes　in　such　a　way　that　they　coexisted　in　one　instant。　Fascinated　by　the　discovery；　Aureliano；　read　aloud　without　skipping　the　chanted　encyclicals　that　Melquíades　himself　had　made　Arcadio　listen　to　and　that　were　in　reality　the　prediction　of　his　execution；　and　he　found　the　announcement　of　the　birth　of　the　most　beautiful　woman　in　the　world　who　was　rising　up　to　heaven　in　body　and　soul；　and　he　found　the　origin　of　the　posthumous　twins　who　gave　up　deciphering　the　parchments；　not　simply　through　incapacity　and　lack　of　drive；　but　also　because　their　attempts　were　premature。　At　that　point；　impatient　to　know　his　own　origin；　Aureliano　skipped　ahead。　Then　the　wind　began；　warm；　incipient；　full　of　voices　from　the　past；　the　murmurs　of　ancient　geraniums；　sighs　of　disenchantment　that　preceded　the　most　tenacious　nostalgia。　He　did　not　notice　it　because　at　that　moment　he　was　discovering　the　first　indications　of　his　own　being　in　a　lascivious　grandfather　who　let　himself　be　frivolously　dragged　along　across　a　hallucinated　plateau　in　search　of　a　beautiful　woman　who　would　not　make　him　happy。　Aureliano　recognized　him；　he　pursued　the　hidden　paths　of　his　descent；　and　he　found　the　instant　of　his　own　conception　among　the　scorpions　and　the　yellow　butterflies　in　a　sunset　bathroom　where　a　mechanic　satisfied　his　lust　on　a　woman　who　was　giving　herself　out　of　rebellion。　He　was　so　absorbed　that　he　did　not　feel　the　second　surge　of　wind　either　as　its　cyclonic　strength　tore　the　doors　and　windows　off　their　hinges；　pulled　off　the　roof　of　the　east　wing；　and　uprooted　the　foundations。　Only　then　did　he　discover　that　Amaranta　？rsula　was　not　his　sister　but　his　aunt；　and　that　Sir　Francis　Drake　had　attacked　Riohacha　only　so　that　they　could　seek　each　other　through　the　most　intricate　labyrinths　of　blood　until　they　would　engender　the　mythological　animal　that　was　to　bring　the　line　to　an　end。　Macondo　was　already　a　fearful　whirlwind　of　dust　and　rubble　being　spun　about　by　the　wrath　of　the　biblical　hurricane　when　Aureliano　skipped　eleven　pages　so　as　not　to　lose　time　with　facts　he　knew　only　too　well；　and　he　began　to　decipher　the　instant　that　he　was　living；　deciphering　it　as　he　lived　it；　prophesying　himself　in　the　act　of　deciphering　the　last　page　of　the　parchments；　as　if　he　were　looking　into　a　speaking　mirror。　Then　he　skipped　again　to　anticipate　the　predictions　and　ascertain　the　date　and　circumstances　of　his　death。　Before　reaching　the　final　line；　however；　he　had　already　understood　that　he　would　never　leave　that　room；　for　it　was　foreseen　that　the　city　of　mirrors　（or　mirages）　would　be　wiped　out　by　the　wind　and　exiled　from　the　memory　of　men　at　the　precise　moment　when　Aureliano　Babilonia　would　finish　deciphering　the　parchments；　and　that　everything　written　on　them　was　unrepeatable　since　time　immemorial　and　forever　more；　because　races　condemned　to　one　hundred　years　of　solitude　did　not　have　a　second　opportunity　on　earth。
　　　
　　　
THE　END。
GABRIEL　GARCIA　MARQUES　？　ONE　HUNDRED　YEARS　OF　SOLITUDE





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