百年孤独(英文版)-第98部分
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
s 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 was the son of Petra Cotes； of whom she remembered only tales of infamy； and that supposition produced a twinge of horror in her heart。
Tormented by the certainty that he was his wife’s brother； Aureliano ran out to the parish house to search through the moldy and motheaten archives for some clue to his parentage。 The oldest baptismal certificate that he found was that of Amaranta Buendía； baptized in adolescence by Father Nicanor Reyna during the time when he was trying to prove the existence of God by means of tricks with chocolate。 He began to have that feeling that he was one of the seventeen Aurelianos； whose birth certificates he tracked down as he went through four volumes； but the baptism dates were too far back for his age。 Seeing him lost in the labyrinths of kinship； trembling with uncertainty； the arthritic priest； who was watching him from his hammock； asked him passionately what his name was。
“Aureliano Buendía；？he said。
“Then don’t wear yourself out searching；？the priest exclaimed with final conviction。 “Many years ago there used to be a street here with that name and in those days people had the custom of naming their children after streets。？
Aureliano trembled with rage。
“So！？he said。 “You don’t believe it either。？
“Believe what？？
“That Colonel Aureliano； Buendía fought thirtytwo civil wars and lost them all；？Aureliano answered。 “That the army hemmed in and machinegunned three thousand workers and that their bodies were carried off to be thrown into the sea on a train with two hundred cars。？
The priest measured him with a pitying look。
“Oh； my son；？he signed。 “It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment。？
So Aureliano and Amaranta ？rsula accepted the version of the basket； not because they believed it； but because it spared them their terror。 As the pregnancy advanced they were being a single being； they were being more and more integrated in the solitude of a house that needed only one last breath to be knocked down。 They restricted themselves to an essential area； from Fernanda’s bedroom； where the charms of sedentary love were visible； to the beginning of the porch； where Amaranta ？rsula would sit to sew bootees and bonnets for the newborn baby and Aureliano； would answer the occasional letters from the wise Catalonian。 The rest of the house was given over to the tenacious assault of destruction。 The silver shop； Melquíades？room； the primitive and silent realm of Santa Sofía de la Piedad remained in the depths of a domestic jungle that no one would have had the courage to penetrate。 Surrounded by the voracity of nature； Aureliano and Amaranta ？rsula continued cultivating the oregano and the begonias and defended their world with demarcations of quicklime； building the last trenches in the ageold war between man and ant。 Her long and neglected hair； the splotches that were beginning to appear on her face； the swelling of her legs； the deformation of her former lovemaking weasel’s body had changed Amaranta ？rsula from the youthful creature she had been when she arrived at the house with the cage of luckless canaries and her captive husband； but it did not change the vivacity of her spirit。 “Shit；？she would say； laughingly。 “Who would have thought that we really would end up living like cannibals！？The last thread that joined them to the world was broken on the sixth month of pregnancy when they received a letter that obviously was not from the wise Catalonian。 It had been mailed in Barcelona； but the envelope was addressed in conventional blue ink by an official hand and it had the innocent and impersonal look of hostile messages。 Aureliano snatched it out of Amaranta ？rsula’s hands as she was about to open it。
“Not this one；？he told her。 “I don’t want to know what it says。？
Just as he had sensed； the wise Catalonian did not write again。 The stranger’s letter； which no one read； was left to the mercy of the moths on the shelf where Fernanda had fotten her wedding ring on occasion and there it remained； consuming itself in the inner fire of its bad news as the solitary lovers sailed against the tide of those days of the last stages； those impenitent and illfated times which were squandered on the useless effort of making them drift toward the desert of disenchantment and oblivion。 Aware of that menace； Aureliano and Amaranta ？rsula spent the hot months holding hands； ending with the love of loyalty for the child who had his beginning in the madness of fornication。 At night； holding each other in bed； they were not frightened by the sublunary explosions of the ants or the noise of the moths or the constant and clean whistle of the growth of the weeds in the neighboring rooms。 Many times they were awakened by the traffic of the dead。 They could hear ？rsula fighting against the laws of creation to maintain the line； and Jos？Arcadio Buendía searching for the mythical truth of the great inventions； and Fernanda praying； and Colonel Aureliano Buendía stupefying himself with the deception of war and the little gold f
