Chapter 13

IN THE BEWILDERMENT of her last years, úrsula had had very little free time to attend to the papal education of José Arcadio, and the time came for him to get ready to leave for the seminary right away. Meme, his sister, dividing her time between Fernanda's rigidity and Amaranta's bitterness, at almost the same moment reached the age set for to be sent to the nuns' school, where they would make a virtuoso on the clavichord of her. úrsula felt tormented by grave doubts concerning the effectiveness of the methods with which she had molded the spirit of the languid apprentice Supreme Pontiff, but she did not put the blame on her staggering old age or the dark clouds that barely permitted her to make out the shape of things, but on something that she herself could not really define and that she conceived confusedly as a progressive breakdown of time. "The years nowadays don't pass the way the old ones used to," she would say, feeling that everyday reality was slipping through her hands. In the past, she thought, children took a long time to grow up. All one had to do was remember all the time needed for José Arcadio, the elder, to go away with the gypsies and all that happened before he came back painted like a snake and talking like an astronomer, and the things that happened in the house before Amaranta and Arca-dio forgot the language of the Indians and learned Spanish. One had to see only the days of sun and dew that poor José Arcadio Buendía went through under the chestnut tree all the time weeded to mourn his death before they brought in a dying Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía, who after so much war and so much suffering from it was still not fifty years of age. In other times, after spending the whole day making candy animals, she had more than enough time for the children, to see from the whites of their eyes that they needed a dose of castor oil. Now, however, when she had nothing to do and would go about with José Arcadio riding on her hip from dawn to dusk, this bad kind of time compelled her to leave things half done. The truth was that úrsula resisted growing old even when she had already lost count of her age and she was a bother on all sides as she tried to meddle in everything and as she annoyed strangers with her questions as to whether they had left a plaster Saint Joseph to be kept until the rains were over during the days of the war. No one knew exactly when she had begun to lose her sight. Even in her later years, when she could no longer get out of bed, it seemed that she was simply defeated by decrepitude, but no one discovered that she was blind. She had noticed it before the birth of José Arcadio. At first she thought it was a matter of a passing debility and she secretly took marrow syrup and put honey on her eyes, but quite soon she began to realize that she was irrevocably sinking into the darkness, to a point where she never had a clear notion of the invention of the electric light, for when they put in the first bulbs she was only able to perceive the glow. She did not tell anyone about it because it would have been a public recognition of her uselessness. She concentrated on a silent schooling in the distances of things and peoples voices, so that she would still be able to see with her memory what the shadows cataracts no longer allowed her to. Later on she was to discover the unforeseen help of odors, which were defined in the shadows with a strength that was much more convincing than that of bulk and color, and which saved her finally from the shame of admitting defeat. In the darkness of the room she was able to thread a needle and sew a buttonhole and she knew when the milk was about to boil. She knew with so much certainty the location of everything that she herself forgot that she was blind at times. On one occasion Fernanda had the whole house upset because she had lost her wedding ring, and úrsula found it on a shelf in the children's bedroom. Quite simply, while the others were going carelessly all about, she watched them with her four senses so that they never took her by surprise, after some time she discovered that every member of the family, without realizing it, repeated the same path every day, the same actions, and almost repeated the same words at the same hour. Only when they deviated from meticulous routine did they run the risk of losing something. So when she heard Fernanda all upset be cause she had lost her ring, úrsula remembered that the only thing different that she had done that day was to put the mattresses out in the sun because Meme had found a bedbug the might before. Since the children had been present at the fumigation, úrsula figured that Fernanda had put the ring in the only place where they could not reach it: the shelf. Fernanda, on the other hand, looked for it in vain along the paths of her everyday itinerary without knowing that the search for lost things is hindered by routine habits and that is why it is so difficult to find them.
The rearing of José Arcadio helped úrsula in the exhausting task of keeping herself up to date on the smallest changes in the house. When she realized that Amaranta was dressing the saints in the bedroom she pretended to show the boy the differences in the colors.
"Let's see," she would tell him. "Tell me what color the Archangel Raphael is wearing."
In that way the child gave her the information that was denied her by her eyes, and long before he went away to the seminary úrsula could already distinguish the different colors of the saints' clothing by the texture. Sometimes unforeseen accidents would happen. One afternoon when Amaranta was 'embroidering on the porch with the begonias úrsula bumped into her.
"For heaven's sake," Amaranta protested. "watch where you're going."
"It's your fault," úrsula said. "You're not sitting where you're supposed to."
She was sure of it. But that day she began to realize something that no one had noticed and it was that with the passage of the year the sun imperceptibly changed position and those who sat on the porch had to change their position little by little without being aware of it. From then on úrsula had only to remember the date in order to know exactly where Amaranta was sitting. Even though the trembling of her hands was more and more noticeable and the weight of her feet was too much for her, her small figure was never seen in so many places at the same time. She was almost as diligent as when she had the whole weight of the house on her shoulders. Nevertheless, in the impenetrable solitude of decrepitude she had such clairvoyance as she examined the most insignificant happenings in the family that for the first time she saw clearly the truths that her busy life in former times had prevented her from seeing. Around the time they were preparing José Arcadio for the seminary she had already made a detailed recapitulation of life in the house since the founding of Macon-do and had completely changed the opinion that she had always held of her descendants. She realized that Colonel Aure-liano Buendía had not lost his love for the family because he had been hardened by the war, as she had thought before, but that he had never loved anyone, not even his wife Remedios or the countless one-night women who had passed through his life, much less his sons. She sensed that he had fought so many wars not out of idealism, as everyone had thought, nor had he renounced a certain victory because of fatigue, as everyone had thought, but that he had won and lost for the same reason, pure and sinful pride. She reached the conclusion that the son for whom she would have given her life was simply a man incapable love. One night when she was carrying him in her belly she heard him weeping. It was such a definite lament that José Arcadio Buendía woke up beside her and was happy with the idea that his son was going to be a ventriloquist. Other people predicted that he would be a prophet. She, on the other hand, shuddered from the certainty that the deep moan was a first indication of the fearful pig tail and she begged God to let the child die in her womb. But the lucidity of her old age allowed to see, and she said so many times, that the cries children in their mothers' wombs are not announcements of ventriloquism or a faculty for prophecy but an unmistakable sign of an incapacity for love. The lowering of the image of her son brought out in her all at once all the compassion that she owed him. Amaranta, however, whose hardness of heart frightened her, whose concentrated bitterness made her bitter, suddenly became clear to her in the final analysis as the most tender woman who had ever existed, and she understood with pitying clarity that the unjust tortures to which she had submitted Pietro Crespi had not been dictated by a desire for vengeance, as everyone had thought, nor had the slow martyrdom with which she had frustrated the life of Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez been determined by the gall of her bitterness, as everyone had thought, but that both actions had been a mortal struggle between a measureless love and an invincible cowardice, and that the irrational fear that Amaranta had always had of her own tormented heart had triumphed in the end. It was during that time that úrsula, began to speak Rebeca's name, bringing back the memory of her with an old love that was exalted by tardy repentance and a sudden admiration, coming to understand that only she, Rebeca, the one who had never fed of her milk but only of the earth of the land and the whiteness of the walls, the one who did not carry the blood of her veins in hers but the unknown blood of the strangers whose bones were still clocing in their grave. Rebeca, the one with an impatient heart, the one with a fierce womb, was the only one who bad the unbridled courage that úrsula had wanted for her line.
"Rebeca," she would say, feeling along the walls, "how unfair we've been to you!"
In the house they simply thought that her mind was wandering, especially since the time she had begun walking about with her right arm raised like the Arch-angel Gabriel. Fernanda, however, realized that there was a sun of clairvoyance in the shadows of that wandering, for úrsula could say without hesitation how much money had been spent in the house during the previous year. Amaranta had a similar idea one day as her mother was stirring a pot of soup in the kitchen and said all at once without knowing that they were listening to her that the corn grinder they had bought from the first gypsies and that had disappeared during the time before José Arcadio, had taken his sixty-five trips around the world was still in Pilar Ternera's house. Also almost a hundred years old, but fit and agile in spite inconceivable fatness, which frightened children as her laughter had frightened the doves in other times, Pilar Ternera was not surprised that úrsula was correct because her own experience was beginning to tell her that an alert old age can be more keen than the cards.
Nevertheless, when úrsula realized that she had not had enough time to consolidate the vocation of José Arcadio, she let herself be disturbed by consternation. She began to make mistakes, trying to see with her eyes the things that intuition allowed her to see with greater clarity. One morning she poured the contents of an inkwell over the boy's head thinking that it was rose water. She stumbled so much in her insistence in taking part in everything that she felt herself upset by gusts of bad humor and she tried to get rid of the shadows that were beginning to wrap her in a straitjacket of cobwebs. It was then that it occurred to her that her clumsiness was not the first victory of decrepitude and darkness but a sentence passed by time. She thought that previously, when God did not make the same traps out of the months and years that the Turks used when they measured a yard of percale, things were different. Now children not only grew faster, but even feelings developed in a different way. No sooner had Remedios the Beauty ascended to heaven in body and soul than the inconsiderate Fernanda was going about mumbling to herself because her sheets had been carried off. The bodies of the Aureli-anos were no sooner cold in their graves than Aureli-ano Segun-do had the house lighted up again, filled with drunkards playing the accordion and dousing themselves in champagne, as if dogs and not Christians had died, and as if that madhouse which had cost her so many headaches and so many candy animals was destined to become a trash heap of perdition. Remembering those things as she prepared José Arcadio's trunk, úrsula wondered if it was not preferable to lie down once and for all in her grave and let them throw the earth over her, and she asked God, without fear, if he really believed that people were made iron in order to bear so many troubles and mortifications, and asking over and over she was stirring up her own confusion and she felt irrepressible desires to let herself go and scamper about like a foreigner and allow herself at last an instant of rebellion, that instant yearned for so many times and so many times postponed, putting her resignation aside and shitting on everything once and for all and drawing out of her heart the infinite stacks of bad words that she had been forced to swallow over a century of conformity.
"Shit!" she shouted.
Amaranta, who was starting to put the clothes into the trunk, thought that she had been bitten by a scorpion.
"Where is it?" she asked in alarm.
"What?"
"The bug!" Amaranta said.
úrsula put a finger on her heart.
On Thursday, at two in the afternoon, José Arcadio left for the seminary. 'úrsula would remember him always as she said goodbye to him, languid and serious, without shedding a tear, as she had taught him, sweltering in the heat in the green corduroy suit copper buttons and a starched bow around his neck. He left the dining room impregnated with the penetrating fragrance of rose water that she had sprinkled on his head so that she could follow his tracks through the house. While the farewell lunch was going on, the family concealed its nervousness with festive expressions and they celebrated with exaggerated enthusiasm the remarks that Father Antonio Isabel made. But when they took out the trunk bound in velvet and with silver corners, it was as if they had taken a coffin out of the house. The only one who refused to take part in the farewell was Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía.
"That's all we need," he muttered. "A Pope!"
Three months later Aureli-ano Segun-do and Fernanda took Meme to school and came back with a clavichord, which took the place of the pianola. It was around that time that Amaranta started sewing her own shroud. The banana fever had calmed down. The old inhabitants of Macon-do found themselves surrounded by newcomers and working hard to cling to their precarious resources times gone by, but comforted in any case by the sense that they had survived a shipwreck. In the house they still had guests for lunch and the old routine was never really set up again until the banana company left years later. Nevertheless, there were radical changes in the traditional sense of hospitality because at that time it was Fernanda who imposed her rules. With úrsula relegated to the shadows and with Amaranta absorbed In the work of her winding cloth, the former apprentice queen had the freedom to choose the guests and impose on them the rigid norms that parents had taught her. Her severity made the house a redoubt of old customs in a town convulsed by the vulgarity with which the outsiders squandered their easy fortunes. For her, with no further questions asked, proper people were those who had nothing to do with the banana company. Even José Arcadio Segun-do, her brother-in-law, was the victim of her discriminatory jealousy because during the excitement of the first days he gave up his stupendous fighting cocks again and took a job as foreman with the banana company.

"He won't ever come into this house again," Fernanda said, "as long as he carries the rash of the foreigners."
Such was the narrowness imposed in the house that Aureli-ano Segun-do felt more comfortable at Petra Cotes's. First, the pretext of taking the burden off his wife, he transferred his parties. Then, the pretext that the animals were losing their fertility, he transferred his barns and stables. Finally, with the pretext that it was cooler in his concubine's house, he transferred the small office in which he handled his business. When Fernanda realized that she was a widow whose husband had still not died, it was already too late for things to return to their former state. Aureli-ano Segun-do barely ate at home and the only appearances he put in, such as to sleep with his wife, were not enough to convince anyone. One night, out of carelessness, morning found him in Petra Cotes's bed. Fernan-da, contrary to expectations, did not reproach him in the least or give the slightest sigh of resentment, but on the same day she sent two trunks with his clothing to the house of his concubine. She sent them in broad daylight and with instructions that they be carried through the middle of the street so that everyone could see them, thinking that her straying husband would be unable to bear the shame and would return to the fold with his head hung low. But that heroic gesture was just one more proof of how poorly Fernanda knew not only the character of her husband but the character of a community that had nothing to do with that of her parents, for everyone who saw the trunks pass by said that it was the natural culmination of a story whose intimacies were known to everyone, and Aureli-ano Segun-do celebrated the freedom he had received with a party that lasted for three days. To the greater disadvantage of his wife, as she was entering into a sad maturity with her somber long dresses, her old-fashioned medals, and her out-of-place pride, the concubine seemed to be bursting with a second youth, clothed in gaudy dresses of natural silk and with her eyes tiger--striped with a glow of vindication. Aureli-ano Segun-do gave himself over to her again with the fury of adoles-cence, as before, when Petra Cotes had not loved him for himself but because she had him mixed up with his twin brotas she slept with both of them at the same time she thought that God had given her the good fortune of having a man who could make love like two. The restored passion was so pressing that on more than one occasion they would look each other in the eyes as they were getting ready to eat and without saying anything they would cover their plates and go into the bedroom dying of hunger and of love. Inspired by the things he had seen on his furtive visits to the French matrons, Aureli-ano Segun-do bought Petra Cotes a bed with an archiepiscopal canopy, put velvet curtains on the windows, and covered the ceiling the walls of the bedroom with large rock-crystal mirrors. At the same time he was more of a carouser and spendthrift than ever. On the train, which arrived every day at eleven o'clock, he would receive cases and more cases of champagne and brandy. On the way back from the station he would drag the improvised cumbiamba along in full view of all the people on the way, natives or outsiders, acquaintances or people yet to be known, without distinctions of any kind. Even the slippery Mr. Brown, who talked only in a strange tongue, let himself be seduced by the tempting signs that Aureli-ano Segun-do made him and several times he got dead drunk in Petra Cotes's house and he even made the fierce German shepherd dogs that went everywhere with him dance to some Texas songs that he himself mumbled in one way or another to the accompaniment of the accordion.
"Cease, cows," Aureli-ano Segun-do shouted at the height of the party. "Cease, because life is short."
"If you can't, don't eat any more," The Elephant said to him. "Let's call it a tie."
"Take me to Fernanda," he managed to say.
His friends left him at the house thinking that they had helped him fulfill his promise to his wife not to die in his concubine's bed. Petra Cotes had shined his patent leather boots that he wanted to wear in his coffin, and she was already looking for someone to take them when they came to tell her that Aureli-ano Segun-do was out of danger. He did recover, indeed, in less than a week, and two weeks later he was celebrating the fact of his survival with unprecedented festivities. He continued living at Petra Cotes's but he would visit Fernanda every day and sometimes he would stay to eat with the family, as if fate had reversed the situation and had made him the husband of his concubine and the lover of his wife.
It was a rest for Fernanda. During the boredom of her abandonment her only distractions were the clavichord lessons at siesta time and the letters from her children. In the detailed messages that she sent them every two weeks there was not a single line of truth. She hid her troubles from them. She hid from them the sadness of a house which, in spite of the light on the begonias, in spite of the heaviness at two in the afternoon, in spite of the frequent waves of festivals that came in from the street was more and more like the colonial mansion of her parents. Fernanda would wander alone among the three living ghosts and the dead ghost of José Arcadio Buendía, who at times would come to sit down with an inquisitive attention in the halflight of the parlor while she was playing the clavichord. Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía was a shadow. Since the last time that he had gone out into the street to propose a war without any future to Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez, he left the workshop only to urinate under the chestnut tree. He did not receive any visits except that of the barber every three weeks, He fed on anything that úrsula brought him once a day, and even though he kept on making little gold fishes with the same passion as before, he stopped selling them when he found out that people were buying them not as pieces of jewelry but as historic relics. He made a bonfire in the courtyard of the dolls of Remedios which had decorated, their bedroom since their wedding. The watchful úrsula realized what her son was doing but she could not stop him.
"You have a heart stone," she told him.
"It's not a question of a heart," he said. "The room's getting full of moths."
The greatest worry that Fernanda had during her years of abandonment was that Meme would come to spend her first vacation and not find Aureli-ano Segun-do at home. His congestion had put an end to that fear. When Meme returned, her parents had made an agreement that not only would the girl think that Aureli-ano Segun-do was still a domesticated husband but also that she would not notice the sadness of the house. Every year for two months Aureli-ano Segun-do played his role of an exemplary husband and he organized parties with ice cream and cookies which the gay and lively school-girl enhanced with the clavichord. It was obvious from then on that she had inherited very little of her mother's character. She seemed more of a second version of Amaranta when the latter had not known bitterness and was arousing the house with her dance steps at the age of twelve or fourteen before her secret passion for Pietro Crespi was to twist the direction of her heart in the end. But unlike Amaranta, unlike all of them, Meme still did not reveal the solitary fate of the family and she seemed entirely in conformity with the world, even when she would shut herself up in the parlor at two in the afternoon to practice the clavichord with an inflexible discipline. It was obvious that she liked the house, that she spent the whole year dreaming about the excitement of the young people her arrival brought around, and that she was not far removed from the festive vocation and hospitable excesses of her father. The first sign of that calamitous inheritance was revealed on her third vacation, when Meme appeared at the house with four nuns and sixty-eight classmates whom she had invited to spend a week with her family on her own Initiative and without any previous warning.
It was necessary to borrow beds and hammocks from the neighbors, to set up nine shifts at the table, to fix hours for bathing, and to borrow forty stools so that the girls in blue uniforms with masculine buttons would not spend the whole day running from one place to another. The visit was a failure because the noisy schoolgirls would scarcely finish breakfast before they had to start taking turns for lunch and then for dinner, and for the whole week they were able to take only one walk through the plantations. At nightfall the nuns were exhausted, unable to move, give another order, and still the troop of tireless adolescents was in the courtyard singing school songs out of tune. One day they were on the point of trampling úrsula, who made an effort to be useful precisely where she was most in the way. On another day the nuns got all excited because Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía had urinated under the chestnut tree without being concerned that the schoolgirls were in the courtyard. Amaranta was on the point of causing panic because one of the nuns went into the kitchen as she was salting the soup and the only thing that occurred to her to say was to ask what those handfuls of white powder were.

The night of their arrival the students carried on in such a way, trying to go to the bathroom before they went to bed, that at one o'clock in the morning the last ones were still going in. Fernanda then bought seventy--two chamberpots but she only managed to change the nocturnal problem into a morning one, because from dawn on there was a long line of girls, each with her pot in her hand, waiting for her turn to wash it. Although some of them suffered fevers and several of them were infected by mosquito bites, most of them showed an unbreakable resistance as they faced the most troublesome difficulties, and even at the time of the greatest heat they would scamper through the garden. When they finally left, the flowers were destroyed, the furniture broken, and the walls covered with drawings and writing, but Fernanda pardoned them for all of the damage because of her relief at their leaving. She returned the borrowed beds and stools and kept the seventy-two chamberpots in Melquíades' room. The locked room, about which the spiritual life of the house revolved in former times, was known from that time on as the "chamberpot room." For Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía it was the most appropriate name, because while the rest of the family was still amazed by the fact that Melquíades' room was immune to dust and destruction, he saw it turned into a dunghill. In any case, it did not seem to bother him who was correct, and if he found out about the fate of the room it was because Fernanda kept passing by and disturbing his work for a whole afternoon as she put away the chamberpots.
During those days José Arcadio Segun-do reappeared in the house. He went along the porch without greeting anyone and he shut himself up in the workshop to talk to the colonel. In spite of the fact that she could not see him, úrsula analyzed the clicking of his foreman's boots and was surprised at the unbridgeable distance that separated him from the family, even from the twin brother with whom he had played ingenious games of confusion in childhood and with whom he no longer had any traits in common. He was linear, solemn, and had a pensive air and the sadness of a Saracen and a mournful glow on his face that was the color of autumn. He was the one who most resembled his mother, Santa Sofía de la Piedad. úrsula reproached herself for the habit of forgetting about him when she spoke about the family, but when she sensed him in the house again and noticed that the colonel let him into the workshop during working hours, she reexamined her old memories and confirmed the belief that at some moment in childhood he had changed places with his twin brother, because it was he and not the other one who should have been called Aureli-ano. No one knew the details of his life. At one time it was discovered that he had no fixed abode, that he raised fighting cocks at Pilar Ternera's house and that sometimes he would stay there to sleep but that he almost always spent the night in the rooms the French matrons. He drifted about, with no ties of affection, with no ambitions, like a wandering star in úrsula's planetary system.
In reality, José Arcadio Segun-do was not a member of the family, nor would he ever be any other since that distant dawn when Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez took him to the barracks, not so that he could see an execution, but so that for the rest of his life he would never forget the sad and somewhat mocking smile of the man being shot. That was not only his oldest memory, but the only one he had of his childhood. The other one, that of an old man with an old-fashioned vest and a hat with a brim like a crow's wings who told him marvelous things framed in a dazzling window, he was unable to place in any period. It was an uncertain memory, entirely devoid of lessons or nostalgia, the opposite of the memory of the executed man, which had really set the direction of his life and would return to his memory clearer and dearer as he grew older, as if the passage of time were bringing him closer to it. úrsula tried to use José Arcadio Segun-do to get Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía. to give up his imprisonment. "Get him to go to the movies," she said to him. "Even if he doesn't like the picture, as least he'll breathe a little fresh air." But it did not take her long to realize that he was as insensible to her begging as the colonel would have been, and that they were armored by the same impermeability of affection. Although she never knew, nor did anyone know, what they spoke about in their prolonged sessions shut up in the workshop, she understood that they were probably the only members of the family who seemed drawn together by some affinity.
"October," he said.
When he said it he did not raise his eyes from the first little fish of the day because he was putting in the rubies for the eyes. Only when he finished it and put it with the others in the pail did he begin to drink the soup. Then, very slowly, he ate the piece of meat roasted with onions, the white rice, and the slices of fried bananas all on the same plate together. His appetite did not change under either the best or the harshest of circumstances. After lunch he felt the drowsiness of inactivity. Because of a kind of scientific superstition he never worked, or read, or bathed, or made love until two hours of digestion had gone by, and it was such a deep-rooted belief that several times he held up military operations so as not to submit the troops to the risks of indigestion. So he lay down in the hammock, removing the wax from his ears with a penknife, and in a few minutes he was asleep. He dreamed that he was going into an empty house with white walls and that he was upset by the burden of being the first human being to enter it. In the dream he remembered that he had dreamed the same thing the night before and on many nights over the past years and he knew that the image would be erased from his memory when he awakened because that recurrent dream had the quality of not being remembered except within the dream itself. A moment later, indeed, when the barber knocked at the workshop door, Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía awoke with the impression that he had fallen asleep involuntarily for a few seconds and that he had not had time to dream anything.
"Not today." he told the barber. "We'll make it on Friday."
He had a three-day beard speckled with white hairs, but he did not think it necessary to shave because on Friday he was going to have his hair cut and it could all be done at the same time. The sticky sweat of the unwanted siesta aroused the scars of the sores in his armpits. The sky had cleared but the sun had not come out. Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía released a sonorous belch which brought back the acidity of the soup to his palate and which was like a command from his organism to throw his blanket over his shoulders and go to the toilet. He stayed there longer than was necessary, crouched over the dense fermentation that was coming out of the wooden box until habit told him that it was time to start work again. During the time he lingered he remembered again that it was Tuesday, and that José Arcadio Segun-do had not come to the workshop because it was payday on the banana company farms. That recollection, as all of those of the past few years, led him to think about the war without his realizing it. He remembered that Colonel Geri-neldo Márquez had once promised to get him a horse with a white star on its face and that he had never spoken about it again. Then he went on toward scattered episodes but he brought them back without any judgment because since he could not think about anything else, he had learned to think coldly so that inescapable memories would not touch any feeling. On his way back to the workshop, seeing that the air was beginning to dry out, he decided that it was a good time to take a bath, but Amaranta had got there ahead of him. So he started on the second little fish the day. He was putting a hook on the tail when the sun came out with such strength that the light creaked like a fishing boat. The air, which had been washed by the three-day drizzle, was filled with flying ants. Then he came to the realization that he felt like urinating and he had been putting it off until he had finished fixing the little fish. He went out into the courtyard at ten minutes after four, when he heard the distant brass instruments, the beating of the bass drum and the shouting of the children, and for the first time since his youth he knowingly fell into a trap of nostalgia relived that prodigious afternoon the gypsies when his father took him to see ice. Santa Sofía de la Piedad dropped what she was doing in the kitchen and ran to the door.
"It's the circus," she shouted.
Instead of going to the chestnut tree, Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía also went to the street door and mingled with the bystanders who, were watching the parade. He saw a woman dressed in gold sitting on the head of an elephant. He saw a sad dromedary. He saw a bear dressed like a Dutch girl keeping time to the music with a soup spoon and a pan. He saw the clowns doing cartwheels at the end of the parade and once more he saw the face his miserable solitude when everything had passed by and there was nothing but the bright expanse of the street and the air full of flying ants with a few onlookers peering into the precipice of uncertainty. Then he went to the chestnut tree, thinking about the circus, and while he urinated he tried to keep on thinking about the circus, but he could no longer find the memory. He pulled his head in between his shoulders like a baby chick and remained motionless with his forehead against the trunk of the chestnut tree. The family did not find him until the following day at eleven o'clock in the morning when Santa Sofía de la Piedad went to throw out the garbage in back and her attention was attracted by the descending vultures.

 

在最后几年的混乱中，乌苏娜还来不及抽出足够的空闲时间来好好地教育霍·阿卡蒂奥，使他能够当上一个教皇，而送他去神学院的时间就已到了，所以不得不慌仓仓地准备。霍·阿卡蒂奥的妹妹梅梅是由严峻的菲兰达和沮丧的阿玛兰塔共同照顾的，几乎同时达到了可以进入修道院学校的年龄；她们想在那儿把她培养成为一个出色的钢琴手。乌苏娜疑虑重重地觉得，把萎靡不振的人培养成为教皇，她的方法是不够有效的，但她并不归咎于自己的老迈，也不怪遮住视线的一片云曦，——透过这片云曦，她只能吃力地辨别周围各种东西的轮廓，——而一切都要怪她自己还不确切了解的某种现象，她只模糊地觉得那种现象就是世态的恶化。“现在的年月跟从前完全不同啦，”她感到自己把握不住每天的现实，抱怨地说。从前，她想，孩子长得挺慢嘛。只消回忆一下就够了：在她的大儿子霍·阿卡蒂奥跟吉卜赛人逃走之前，过了乡长的时间啊，而在他全身画得象一条蛇，说着星相家怪里怪气的话，回到家里的时候，发生了多少事情啊，而且在阿玛兰塔和阿卡蒂奥忘掉印第安语、学会西班牙语之前，家中什么事没有发生呀！再想想吧，可怜的霍·阿·布恩蒂亚在菜树下面呆了多少个日日夜夜，家里的人为他哀悼了多久，然后奄奄一总的奥雷连诺上校才给抬回家来，当时他还不满五十岁，并且经历了那么长久的战争和那么多的苦难。从前，她成天忙于自己的糖果，还能照顾子孙，凭他们的眼白就知道该把蓖麻油滴在他们眼里。现在她完全空闲下来，从早到晚仅仅照顾霍·阿卡蒂奥一个人的时候，由于时世不佳，她几乎无法把任何一件事儿干完了。实际上，乌苏娜即使年事已高，但是仍不服老：她什么事都要操心，任何事都要管，而且总是询问外来的人，他们曾否在战争时期把圣约瑟夫的石膏像留在这儿，等雨季过了就来取走。谁也不能确凿地说，乌苏娜是什么时候丧失视觉的。即使在她生前的最后几年，她已经不能起床时，大家还以为她只是老朽了，谁也没有发现她完全瞎了。乌苏娜自己是在霍·阿卡蒂奥出生之前不久感到自己快要失明的。起初，她以为这是暂时的虚弱，悄悄地喝点儿骨髓汤，在眼里滴点儿蜂蜜；可她很快就相信自己正在绝望地陷入黑暗。乌苏娜对电灯始终没有明确的概念，因为马孔多开始安装电灯时，她只能把它当成一种朦胧的亮光。她没有向任何人说她快要瞎了，因为这么一说就是公开承认自己无用了。乌苏娜背着大家，开始坚持不懈地研究各种东西之间的距离和人的声音，想在白内障的阴影完全挡住她的视线时，仍能凭记忆知道各种东西的位置。随后，她又意外地得到了气味的帮助；在黑暗中，气味比轮廓和颜色更容易辨别，终于使别人没有发现她是瞎子。尽管周围一片漆黑，乌苏娜还能穿针引线，缭扣门，及时发现牛奶就要煮沸。她把每件东西的位置记得那么清楚，有时甚至忘了自己眼瞎了。有一次，菲兰达向整座房子大叫大嚷，说她的订婚戒指不见了，乌苏娜却在小孩儿卧室里的隔板上找到了它。道理是很简单的：当其他的人在房子里漫不经心地来来去去时，乌苏娜就凭自己剩下的四种感官注意别人的活动，使得谁也不会突然撞着她；很快她就发现，而家里的每个人却没觉察到。他们每天走的都是同样的路，重复同样的动作，同样的时匆几乎说同样的话。只有偏离常规的时候，他们才会失掉什么东西。所以，听到菲兰达哭哭叫叫．乌苏娜就想起，菲兰达这一天所做的唯一不同的事儿，是把孩子床上的褥垫拿出去晒，因为昨夜在孩子床上发现了臭虫。因为收拾房间时孩子们在场，乌苏娜就以为菲兰达准把戒指放在孩子们唯一够不着的地方－－隔板上。恰恰相反，菲兰达却在平常来来去去的地方寻找戒指，不知道正是日常的习惯使她难以找到失去的东西。

抚养和教育霍·阿卡蒂奥的事，也帮助乌苏娜知道了家中发生的甚至最小的变化。譬如，只要听见阿玛兰塔在给卧室里的圣像穿衣服，她就马上假装教孩子识别颜色。

“呢，”她向孩子说，“现在告诉我吧：天使拉斐尔的衣服是啥颜色呀？”

这样，孩子就告诉了鸟苏娜她的眼睛看不见的情况。所以，在孩子进神学院之前很久，乌苏娜已经能够用千摸着辨别圣像农着的不同颜色。有时也发生过预料不到的事。有一次，阿玛兰塔在秋海棠长廊上绣花时，乌苏娜撞上了她。

“我的天，”阿玛兰塔生气他说，“瞧你走到哪儿来啦。”

“这要怪你自己，”乌苏娜回答，“你没坐在你应当坐的地方。”

乌苏娜完全相信自己是对的。那一天，她开始知道一种谁也不注意的现象：随着一年四季的交替，太阳也悄悄地逐渐改变在天上的位置，坐在长廊上的人也不知不觉地逐渐移动和改变自己的位置。从那时起，乌苏娜只要想起当天是几号，就能准确地断定阿玛兰塔是坐在哪儿的。虽然乌苏娜的手一天一天地越来越颜抖了两条腿仿佛灌满了铅，可她那矮个的身躯从来不象现在这样接连出现在那么多的地方。乌苏娜几乎象从前肩负全家重担时那么勤劳。然而现在，在黯然无光的暮年的孤独中，她却能异常敏锐地洞悉家中哪怕最小的事情，第一次清楚地知道了一些真情实况，而这些真情实况是她以前一直忙碌时无法知道的。她准备让霍· 阿卡蒂奥去进神学院时，已经细致地考察了马孔多建立以来布恩蒂亚家的整个生活，完全改变了自己关于子孙后代的看法。她相信，奥雷连诺上校失去了对家庭的爱，并不象她从前所想的是战争使他变得冷酷了，而是他从来没有爱过任何人：没有爱过他的妻子雷麦黛丝，没有爱过他一生中碰到的无数一夜情人，尤其没有爱过他的一群儿子。她觉得，他发动了那么多的战争，并不象大家认为的是出于理想；他放弃十拿九稳的胜利，也不象大家所想的是由于困乏；他取得胜利和遭到失败都是同一个原冈：名副其实的、罪恶的虚荣心。她最后认为，她的儿子（为了他，她连性命都不顾）是生来不爱别人的。有一天夜皮晚，当他还在她肚子里的时候，她就听见他啼哭，啼哭声是那么悲哀和清晰，睡在旁边的霍·阿·布恩蒂亚醒了过来，甚至高兴地认为这孩子将是一个天生的口技演员。另一些人预言，他将成为一个先知。乌苏娜本人却吓得发抖，因为她突然相信，这种腹中的啼哭预示孩干将会长着一条可怕的猪尾巴，于是祈求上帝让孩子死在她的肚子里。但她恍然明白，而且说了又说，孩子在母亲肚子里又哭又叫，并不表示他有口技和预见才能，只能确凿地表明他不爱别人。这样贬低儿子的形象却使她突然产生了对他的怜悯。然而，阿玛兰塔却跟他相反，她的铁石心肠曾使乌苏娜害怕，她隐秘的痛苦曾叫乌苏娜难过，现在乌苏娜倒觉得她是一个最温柔的女人了，而且怀着同情心敏锐地感到，阿玛兰塔让皮埃特罗·克列斯比遭到毫无道理的折磨，决不象大家认为的是由于她那报复的渴望，而格林列尔多·马克斯上校遭到慢性的摧折，也决不象大家认为的是由于她那极度的悲恨。实际上，二者都是无限的爱情和不可克制的胆怯之间生死搏斗的结果，在阿玛兰塔痛苦的心中纠缠不休的荒谬的恐怖感，终于在这种斗争中占了上风。乌苏娜越来越频繁地提到雷贝卡的名字时，她总怀着往日的怜爱想起雷贝十的形象；由于过迟的悔悟和突然的钦佩，这种怜爱就更强烈了；她明白，雷贝卡虽不是她的奶养大的，而是靠泥上和墙上的石灰长大的；这姑娘血管里流着的不是布思蒂亚的血，而是陌生人的血，陌生人的骸骨甚至还在坟墓里发出咔嚓咔嚓的响声，可是只有雷贝卡——性情急躁的雷贝卡，热情奔放的雷贝卡，是唯一具有豪迈勇气的，而这种勇气正是乌苏娜希望她的子孙后代具备的品质。

“雷贝卡啊，”她摸着墙壁，喃喃说道，“我们对你多不公道呀！”

大家认为，乌苏娜不过是在胡言乱语，特别是她象天使加百利那样伸出右手打算走走的时候。但是菲兰达看出，这种胡言里面有时也有理性的光辉，因为乌苏娜能够毫不口吃地回答，过去一年家中花了多少钱。阿玛兰塔也有同样的想法。有一次，在厨房里，她的母亲正在锅里搅汤，不知道人家在听她说话，竟突然说老玉米的手磨至今还在皮拉·苔列娜家中，这个手磨是向第一批吉卜赛人买来的，在霍·阿卡蒂奥六十五次环游世界之前就不见了。皮拉·苔歹娜几乎也有一百岁了，可是依然隐壮、灵活，尽管孩子们害怕她那不可思议的肥胖，就象从前鸽子害怕她那响亮的笑声；她对乌苏娜的话并不感到奇怪，因为她已相信，老年人清醒的头脑常常比纸牌更加敏锐。然而，乌苏娜发现自己没有足够的时间教导霍·阿卡蒂奥确立他的志向时，就陷入了沮丧的状态。那些靠直觉弄得更清楚的东西，她想用眼睛去看，就失误了。有一天早晨，她把一瓶墨水倒在孩子头上，还以为它是花露水哩。她总想干预一切事情，碰了一个个钉子之后，就感到越来越苦恼，妄图摆脱周围蛛网一般的黑暗。接着她又想到，她的失误并不是衰老和黑暗第一次战胜她的证明，而是时世不佳的结果。她想，跟土耳其人量布的花招不一样，从前上帝还不骗人的时候，一切都是不同的。现在呢，不仅孩子们长得很快，甚至人的感觉也不象以前那样了。俏姑娘雷麦黛丝的灵魂和躯体刚刚升到空中，没有心肝的菲兰达马上唠唠叨叨，因为她的床单飞走了。十六个奥雷连诺在坟墓里尸骨未寒，奥雷连诺第二又把一帮酒鬼带到家中，弹琴作乐，狂饮滥喝，好象死去的不是基督徒，而是一群狗；她伤了那么多脑筋、耗去了那么多糖动物的这座疯人院似乎注定要成为罪恶的渊薮了。乌苏娜给霍·阿卡蒂奥装箱子的时候，一面回忆痛苦的往事，一面问了问自己，躺进坟墓，让人在她身上撒上泥土是不是更好一些呢；而且她又无所畏惧地请问上帝，他是不是真以为人是铁铸的，能够经受那么多的苦难；但她越问越糊涂，难以遏制地希望象外国人那样蹦跳起来，最终来一次片刻的暴动，这种片刻的暴动是她向往了多次，推迟了多次的；她不愿屈从地生活，热望唾弃一切，从心中倒出一大堆骂人的话，而这些话她己低三下四地压抑整整一个世纪了。

“混蛋！”乌苏娜骂了一声。

正在动手衣服装进箱子的阿玛兰塔，以为蝎子螫了母亲。

“它在哪儿？”阿玛兰塔惊骇地问。

“什么？”

“蝎子，”阿玛兰塔解释。

乌苏娜拿指头做了戳胸口。

“在这儿，”她回答。

星期四，下午两点，霍。阿卡蒂奥去神学院了。乌苏娜经常记得他离开时的样子：板着面孔，无精打采，象她教他的那样没流一滴眼泪；由于穿了一件绿色灯芯绒衣服，扣着铜扣，领口系着浆硬的花结，他热得气都喘不上来。霍·阿卡蒂奥离开之后，饭厅里留下了浓烈的花露水味儿；为了在房子里容易找到这个孩子，乌苏娜是把花露水洒在孩子头上的。在送别午餐上，一家人在愉快的谈吐后面隐藏若激动，用夸大的热忱回答安东尼奥.伊萨贝尔神父的笑谑。可是，大家把丝绒蒙面、银色包角的箱子抬出的时候，仿佛从房子里抬出一口棺材。奥雷连诺上校拒绝参加送别午餐。

“咱们就缺一个教皇！”他嘟哝着说。

三个月之后，奥雷连诺第二和菲兰达把梅梅领到修道院学校去，带回一架旧式小钢琴，代替了自动钢琴。正是这时候，阿玛兰塔开始给自己缝制殓衣。“香蕉热”已经平静下去了，马孔多的土著居民发现，他们被外国人排挤到了次要地位，好不容易维持了以前的微薄收入，但他们感到高兴的是，仿佛船舶失事时终于侥幸得救了。布恩蒂亚家继续邀请成群的客人吃饭，昔日的家庭生活直到几年以后香蕉公司离开时才恢复过来。然而传统的好客精神发生了根本的文化，因为现在权力转到了菲兰达千里。乌苏娜被挤到了黑暗的境地。阿玛兰塔专心地缝制自己的殓衣。过去的“女王”有了选择客人的白由，能让他们遵守她的父母教导她的严规旧礼。那些外国人大肆挥霍轻易赚来的钱，把这个市镇摘行乌烟瘴气，但由于菲兰达处事严厉，布恩蒂亚家却成了旧习俗的堡垒。菲兰达认为，只有跟香蕉公司没有瓜葛的人才是正派的人。她丈夫的哥哥霍·阿卡蒂奥第二甚至也受到区别对待，因为在“香蕉热”最初几天的混乱中，他又卖掉了自己出色的斗鸡，当上了香蕉园的监工。

“只要他身上还有这帮外国佬的传染病，他就休想再到这儿来，”菲兰达说。

家中的生活变得那么严峻，奥雷连诺第二就觉得在佩特娜.柯特家里更舒服了。首先，他借口减轻妻子的负担，把酒宴移到了情妇家里。然后，借口牲畜正在丧失繁殖力，他又把畜栏和马厩迁到她那儿去了。最后，借口情妇家里不那么热，他甚至把经营买卖的小账房搬到了那儿。菲兰达发现自己变成了守活寡的妇人，时间已经迟了。奥雷连诺第二几乎不在家里吃饭，只是假装回家过夜，但这是骗不了人的。有一天早晨他不小心，有人发现他在佩特娜·柯特床上，然而出乎意外，他不仅没有听到妻子的一小点责备，甚至没有听到她最轻微的怨声，但是就在那一天，菲兰达把他的两口衣箱送到他的情妇家里。她是叫人大白天经过街道中间送去的，让全镇的人都能看见，以为不走正道的丈夫忍受不了耻辱，会弯着脖子回到窝里，可是这个勇敢的姿态只是再一次证明，菲兰达不熟悉丈夫的性格和马孔多的风习，这里的习俗和她父母的旧习毫无共同之处，——每一个看见箱子的人都说，这是故事的自然结局，故事的内情是人人皆知的。奥雷连诺第二却举办了三天的酒宴，庆贺他得到的自由，除了夫妇之间的不幸，菲兰达穿着硕长的黑衣服，戴着过时的颈饰，露出不合时宜的傲气，好象过早地衰老了；而穿着鲜艳的天然丝衣服的情妇，恕到被践踏的权利获得恢复，两眼闪着愉快的光彩，焕发了青春。奥雷连诺第二重新投入她的怀抱，象从前跟她睡在一起那么热情，因为当时她把他当成了他的孪生兄弟；跟两兄弟睡觉，她以为上帝给了她空前的幸福——一个男人能象两个男人那么爱她。复苏的情欲是遏制不住的：不止一次，他俩已经坐在桌边，彼此盯着对方的眼睛，一句话没说，遮上餐具，就到卧室里去——两人只顾发泄情欲，饿得要死。奥雷连诺第二偷袭法国艺妓时看见过一些东西，在这些东西的鼓舞下，他给佩特娜.柯特买了一张有帐幔的床，象大主教的卧榻一样，在窗上挂起了丝绒帘子，在卧室的墙上和天花板上都安了挺大的镜子。同时，他比以前更加胡闹和挥霍了。每天早上十一点钟，列车都给他运来成箱的香摈酒和白兰地。奥雷连诺第二从车站上回来时，他都象在即兴舞蹈中那样，把路上偶然邂逅的人拖走，——本地人或外来人，熟人或生人，毫无区别。甚至只会说外国话的滑头的布劳恩先生，也被奥雷连诺的手势招引来了，好几次在佩特娜．柯特家里喝得酪叮大醉，有一回他甚至让随身的凶猛的德国牧羊犬跳舞，他自己勉强哼着得克萨斯歌曲，而由手风琴伴奏。

“繁殖吧，母牛啊，”奥雷连诺第二在欢宴的高潮中叫嚷。“繁殖吧——生命短促呀。”

他从来没有象现在这么愉快，人家从来没有象现在这么喜欢他，他的牲畜从来没有象现在这样控制不住地繁殖。为了没完没了的酒宴，宰了那么多的牛。猪、鸡，院子里的泥土被血弄得乌七八糟、粘搭搭的，骨头和内脏不断扔在这儿，吃剩的食物不断倒在这儿，几乎每小时都要把这些东西哔哔喇喇地烧掉，免得兀鹰来啄客人的眼睛。奥雷连诺第二发胖了，面孔泛起了紫红色，活象乌龟的嘴脸，可一切都怪他那出奇的胃口，甚至周游世界回来的霍.阿卡蒂奥也无法跟他相比。奥雷连诺第二难以思议的暴食，他那空前未闻的挥霍，他那无比的好客精神，这种名声传出了沼泽地带，引起了著名暴食者们的注意。许多惊人的暴食都从沿海各地来到了马孔多，参加佩特娜．柯特家中举行的荒谬为饕餮比赛。奥雷连诺第二是经常取得胜利的，直到一个不幸的星期六卡米娜·萨加斯笃姆来到为止；这个女人体型上很象图腾塑像，是蜚声全国的“母象”。比赛延续到星期二早晨。第一个昼夜，吃掉了一只小牛，外加配莱：木薯、山药和油炸番蕉，而且喝完了一箱半香摈酒，奥雷连诺第二完全相信自己的胜利。他认为，他的精神和活力都超过沉着的对手；她进食的方式当然是比较内行的，可是正因为这样，就不大使挤满屋子的大部分观众感到兴趣。当奥雷连诺第二渴望胜利、大口咬肉的时候，“母象”却用外科医生的技术把肉切成块，不慌不忙地吃着，甚至感到一定的愉快。她长得粗壮肥胖，可是女性的温柔胜过了她的茁壮：她有一副漂亮的面孔和一双保养很好的雅致的手儿，还有那么不可抗拒的魅力，以致奥雷连诺第二看见她走进屋子的时候，甚至说他宁愿跟她在床上比赛，而不在桌边比赛，接着，他看见“母象”吃掉了一整条猪腿，一点没有违背进食的礼貌和规矩，他就十分认真他说，这个雅致、进人、贪馋的女人在某种意义上倒是个理想的女人。他并没有看错，以往传说 “母象”是个贪婪的兀鹰，这是没有根据的。她既不是传说的“绞肉机”，也不是希腊杂技团中满脸络腮子的女人，而是音乐学校校长。当她已经是个可敬的母亲时，为了找到一种能使孩子吃得更多的办法，她也学会了巧妙地狼吞虎咽，但不是靠人为地刺激胃口，而是靠心灵的绝对宁静。她那实践检验过的理论原则是：一个人只要心地平静，就能不停地吃到疲乏的时候。就这样，由于心理的原因和竞技的兴趣，她离开了自己的学校和家庭，想跟全国闻名的放肆的暴食者决一雌雄。“母象”刚一看见奥雷连诺第二，立即明白他要输的不是肚子，而是性格。的确，到第一夜终了的时候，她还保持着自己的战斗力，而奥雷连诺第二却因说说笑笑消耗了自己的力量。他俩睡了四个小时。然后，每人喝了五十杯橙子汁、八升咖啡和三十只生鸡蛋。第二天早上，在许多小时的不眠之后，吃掉了两头猪、一串香蕉和四箱香槟酒。“母象”开始怀疑奥雷连诺第二不知不觉地采用了她自己的办法，但完全是不顾后果地瞎吃。因此，他比她预料的更危险。佩特娜·柯特把两只烤火鸡拿上桌子的时候，奥雷连诺第二已经快要昏厥了。

“如果不行，你就别吃啦，”“母象”向他说。“就算不分胜负吧。”

她是真心诚意说的，因为她自己也无法再吃一块肉了；她知道对手每吃一口都会加快他的死亡。可是奥雷连诺第二把她的话当成新的挑战，便噎地吃完了整只火鸡，超过了自己不可思议的容量，失去了知觉。他伏倒在一盘啃光的骨头上，象疯狗似地嘴里流出泡沫，发出临死的稀嘘声。在他突然陷入的黑暗中，他觉得有人从塔顶把他摔进无底的深渊；在最后的刹那间，他明白自己这样掉到底就非死不可了。

“把我抬到菲兰达那儿去吧，”他还来得及说出这么一句。

抬他回家的朋友们以为，他履行了给他妻子的诺言：不让自己死在情妇床上。佩特娜·柯特把他希望穿着躺进棺材的漆皮鞋擦干净，已在找人给他送去，就有人来告诉她说奥雷连诺第二脱离了危险。的确，不到一个星期他就康复了；两个星期以后，他又以空前盛大的酒宴庆祝自己的复活。他继续住在佩特娜.柯特家里，可是现在每天都去看望菲兰达，有时还留下来跟全家一块儿吃饭，仿佛命运变换了一切的位置，把他变成了情妇的丈夫、妻子的情人。

菲兰达终于能够稍微喘口气了。在难以忍受的孤独的日子里，被弃的妻子唯一能够解闷的，就是午休时弹琴和阅读孩子的信。她自己每日两次给霍·阿卡蒂奥和梅梅捎去详细的信函，可是没有一行是真话。菲兰达向孩子们隐瞒了自己的不幸，隐瞒了这座房子的悲哀；这座房子，尽管长廊上的秋海棠充满了阳光，尽管下午两点钟十分闷热，尽管街头的欢乐声阵阵传来，一天一天地变得越来越象她父母阴暗的宅子了。菲兰达在三个活的幽灵和一个死人——霍·阿·布恩蒂亚的幽灵——当中孤零零地徘徊；这个死人经常呆在客厅中晦暗的角落里，紧张地注意倾听她弹琴。昔日的奥雷连诺上校只剩了一个影子。自从那一天他最后一次走出屋子，打算劝格林列尔多·马克斯上校重新发动毫无希望的战争，他就不曾离开自己的作坊，除非到栗树下去解手。除了每三个星期来一次的理发师，他不接待任何人。乌苏娜每天给他送一次饮食；她送什么，他就吃什么。他虽然象从前那样辛勤地制作金鱼，但已经不拿去卖了，因他发现人家购买金鱼，不是拿它作装饰品，而是当作历史遗物。有一次，他把自己结婚以来卧室里装饰的雷麦黛丝的那些玩偶拿到院子里付之一炬，警觉的乌苏娜发现儿子正在干些什么，可是无法阻止他。

“你真是铁石心肠啊，”她说。

“这跟心肠没有关系，”他回答，“房间里满是虫子嘛。”

阿玛兰塔仍在缝制自己的殓衣。菲兰达无法明白，为什么阿玛兰塔不时写信给梅梅，甚至给她捎去东西，但却不愿听听霍·阿卡蒂奥的消息，菲兰达通过乌苏娜向她问到这一点的时候，阿玛兰塔就回答说：“他们都会莫名其妙死掉的。”菲兰达就把阿玛兰塔的回答当作一个谜记在心里，这个谜是她永远无法猜破的。高挑、笔挺、傲慢的阿玛兰塔，经常穿着泡沫一样雪白轻柔的裙子，尽管年岁已高、往事沉痛，仍有一副优越的样儿，她的额上似乎也有自己的灰十字——处女的标记。她真有这样的标记，不过是在手上——在黑色绷带下面；阿玛兰塔即便夜间也不取掉这个绷带，有时亲自拿它洗呀熨呀。阿玛兰塔是在缝制殓衣中生活的。可以看出，她白天缝，晚上拆，但这不是为了摆脱孤独，恰恰相反，而是为了保持孤独。

在跟丈夫分离的日子里，菲兰达最苦恼的是：梅梅回来度假的时候，在家里看不见奥雷连诺第二。他的昏厥结束了她的这种担忧。到梅梅回来时，她的父母已达成了协议，姑娘不仅相信奥雷连诺第二仿佛仍然是个忠顺的丈夫，甚至不会发现家里的悲哀。每一年，奥雷连诺第二都要连续两月扮演一个模范丈夫，把朋友们聚集起来，拿冰淇淋和甜饼款待他们；愉快活泼的姑娘梅梅弹琴助兴。当时已经看出，她很少继承母亲的性格。梅梅更象是第二个阿玛兰塔——十二岁至十四岁时的阿玛兰塔，当时阿玛兰塔还不知道悲哀，她那轻盈的舞步曾给家中带来生气，直到她对皮埃特罗·克列斯比的恋情使她的心永远离开了正轨。但是，梅梅跟阿玛兰塔不同，跟布恩蒂亚家所有其他的人都不同，她还没有表现出这家人命定的孤独感，她似乎完全满意周围的世界，即使下午两点她把自己关在客厅里坚毅地练习弹琴的时候。十分显然，她喜欢这个家，她整年都在幻想年轻小伙子见到她时的热烈场面，她也象父亲那样喜欢娱乐和漫无节制地接待客人。这种不幸的遗传性是在第三个暑假中初次表现出来的，当时梅梅自作主张，也没预先通知，就把四个修女和六十八个女同学带到家里，让她们在这儿玩一个星期。

“多倒霉！”菲兰达悲叹地说，“这孩子象她父亲一样冒失！”

这就不得不向邻居借用木床和吊铺，让大家分成九班轮流吃饭，规定沐浴的时间，而且借来了四十只凳子，免得穿着蓝制服和男靴的姑娘们整天在房子里荡来荡去。应付她们实在困难：闹喳喳的一群刚刚吃完早饭又要给另一批人开午饭，然后是晚饭；整整一个星期，女学生们只到种植园去游玩过一次。黑夜来临，为了把姑娘们赶上床铺，修女们累得精疲力尽，可是不管她们怎么卖力，总有一群不知疲倦的少女留在院子里，调门不准地高唱校歌。有一次，姑娘们差点儿绊倒了乌苏娜，因为她总喜欢到她最能妨碍别人的地方去帮忙。另一次，由于奥雷连诺上校当着姑娘们的面在栗树下小便，修女们竟嚷叫起来。阿玛兰塔呢，差点儿引起了惊慌：她正把盐放在汤里时，一个修女走进厨房，立即问她撒到锅里的白色粉未是什么。

“砒霜。”

到达的第一夜，姑娘们累得要命，想在睡觉之前上一次厕所，——大约夜里一点，其中最后几个才轮流进去。于是菲兰达买了七十二个便盆，但这只把夜间的问题变成了早上的问题，因为姑娘们天一亮就在厕所前面排了长长的队伍，手里都拿着便盆，等候轮到自己去洗便盆。尽管其中几个姑娘感冒了，其他一些姑娘的皮肤被蚊子咬得起了疱，可是大多数人在困难面前表现了坚忍精神，甚至最热的时刻也在花园里蹦蹦跳跳。到客人们最终离开的时候，花丛被踩坏了，家具给毁了，墙上布满了画儿和字儿，可是菲兰达看见她们走了就高兴，原谅她们造成的损害。她把床和凳子送还了邻居，而将七十二只便盆堆在梅尔加德斯的房间里。

这个锁着的房间——昔日全家精神生活的中心，现在成了闻名的“便盆间”了。照奥雷连诺上校看来，这个称呼是最合适的，尽管梅尔加德斯的卧室没有尘土，也没遭到破坏，全家的人仍然对它感到惊讶，可是上校却觉得它不过是