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　　　By　then　Melquíades　had　aged　with　surprising　rapidity。　On　his　first　trips　he　seemed　to　be　the　same　age　as　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía。　But　while　the　latter　had　preserved　his　extraordinary　strength；　which　permitted　him　to　pull　down　a　horse　by　grabbing　its　ears；　the　gypsy　seemed　to　have　been　worn　dowse　by　some　tenacious　illness。　It　was；　in　reality；　the　result　of　multiple　and　rare　diseases　contracted　on　his　innumerable　trips　around　the　world。　According　to　what　he　himself　said　as　he　spoke　to　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　while　helping　him　set　up　the　laboratory；　death　followed　him　everywhere；　sniffing　at　the　cuffs　of　his　pants；　but　never　deciding　to　give　him　the　final　clutch　of　its　claws。　He　was　a　fugitive　from　all　the　plagues　and　catastrophes　that　had　ever　lashed　mankind。　He　had　survived　pellagra　in　Persia；　scurvy　in　the　Malayan　archipelago；　leprosy　in　Alexandria；　beriberi　in　Japan；　bubonic　plague　in　Madagascar；　an　earthquake　in　Sicily；　and　a　disastrous　shipwreck　in　the　Strait　of　Magellan。　That　prodigious　creature；　said　to　possess　the　keys　of　Nostradamus；　was　a　gloomy　man；　enveloped　in　a　sad　aura；　with　an　Asiatic　look　that　seemed　to　know　what　there　was　on　the　other　side　of　things。　He　wore　a　large　black　hat　that　looked　like　a　raven　with　widespread　wings；　and　a　velvet　vest　across　which　the　patina　of　the　centuries　had　skated。　But　in　spite　of　his　immense　wisdom　and　his　mysterious　breadth；　he　had　a　human　burden；　an　earthly　condition　that　kept　him　involved　in　the　small　problems　of　daily　life。　He　would　plain　of　the　ailments　of　old　age；　he　suffered　from　the　most　insignificant　economic　difficulties；　and　he　had　stopped　laughing　a　long　time　back　because　scurvy　had　made　his　teeth　drop　out。　On　that　suffocating　noontime　when　the　gypsy　revealed　his　secrets；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　had　the　certainty　that　it　was　the　beginning　of　a　great　friendship。　The　children　were　startled　by　his　fantastic　stories。　Aureliano；　who　could　not　have　been　more　than　five　at　the　time；　would　remember　him　for　the　rest　of　his　life　as　he　saw　him　that　afternoon；　sitting　against　the　metallic　and　quivering　light　from　the　window；　lighting　up　with　his　deep　an　voice　the　darkest　reaches　of　the　imagination；　while　down　over　his　temples　there　flowed　the　grease　that　was　being　melted　by　the　heat。　Jos？Arcadio；　his　older　brother；　would　pass　on　that　wonderful　image　as　a　hereditary　memory　to　all　of　his　descendants。　？rsula　on　the　other　hand；　held　a　bad　memory　of　that　visit；　for　she　had　entered　the　room　just　as　Melquíades　had　carelessly　broken　a　flask　of　bichloride　of　mercury。
　　　“It’s　the　smell　of　the　devil；？she　said。
　　　“Not　at　all；？Melquíades　corrected　her。　“It　has　been　proven　that　the　devil　has　sulphuric　properties　and　this　is　just　a　little　corrosive　sublimate。？
　　　Always　didactic；　he　went　into　a　learned　exposition　of　the　diabolical　properties　of　cinnabar；　but　？rsula　paid　no　attention　to　him；　although　she　took　the　children　off　to　pray。　That　biting　odor　would　stay　forever　in　her　mind　linked　to　the　memory　of　Melquíades。
　　　The　rudimentary　laboratory—in　addition　to　a　profusion　of　pots；　funnels；　retorts；　filters；　and　sieves—was　made　up　of　a　primitive　water　pipe；　a　glass　beaker　with　a　long；　thin　neck；　a　reproduction　of　the　philosopher’s　egg；　and　a　still　the　gypsies　themselves　had　built　in　accordance　with　modern　descriptions　of　the　threearmed　alembic　of　Mary　the　Jew。　Along　with　those　items；　Melquíades　left　samples　of　the　seven　metals　that　corresponded　to　the　seven　planets；　the　formulas　of　Moses　and　Zosimus　for　doubling　the　quantity　of　gold；　and　a　set　of　notes　and　sketches　concerning　the　processes　of　the　Great　Teaching　that　would　permit　those　who　could　interpret　them　to　undertake　the　manufacture　of　the　philosopher’s　stone。　Seduced　by　the　simplicity　of　the　formulas　to　double　the　quantity　of　gold；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　paid　court　to　？rsula　for　several　weeks　so　that　she　would　let　him　dig　up　her　colonial　coins　and　increase　them　by　as　many　times　as　it　was　possible　to　subdivide　mercury。　？rsula　gave　in；　as　always；　to　her　husband’s　unyielding　obstinacy。　Then　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　threw　three　doubloons　into　a　pan　and　fused　them　with　copper　filings；　orpiment；　brimstone；　and　lead。　He　put　it　all　to　boil　in　a　pot　of　castor　oil　until　he　got　a　thick　and　pestilential　syrup　which　was　more　like　mon　caramel　than　valuable　gold。　In　risky　and　desperate　processes　of　distillation；　melted　with　the　seven　planetary　metals；　mixed　with　hermetic　mercury　and　vitriol　of　Cyprus；　and　put　back　to　cook　in　hog　fat　for　lack　of　any　radish　oil；　？rsula’s　precious　inheritance　was　reduced　to　a　large　piece　of　burnt　hog　cracklings　that　was　firmly　stuck　to　the　bottom　of　the　pot。
　　　When　the　gypsies　came　back；　？rsula　had　turned　the　whole　population　of　the　village　against　them。　But　curiosity　was　greater　than　fear；　for　that　time　the　gypsies　went　about　the　town　making　a　deafening　noise　with　all　manner　of　musical　instruments　while　a　hawker　announced　the　exhibition　of　the　most　fabulous　discovery　of　the　Naciancenes。　So　that　everyone　went　to　the　tent　and　by　paying　one　cent　they　saw　a　youthful　Melquíades；　recovered；　unwrinkled；　with　a　new　and　flashing　set　of　teeth。　Those　who　remembered　his　gums　that　had　been　destroyed　by　scurvy；　his　flaccid　cheeks；　and　his　withered　lips　trembled　with　fear　at　the　final　proof　of　the　gypsy’s　supernatural　power。　The　fear　turned　into　panic　when　Melquíades　took　out　his　teeth；　intact；　encased　in　their　gums；　and　showed　them　to　the　audience　for　an　instant—a　fleeting　instant　in　which　he　went　back　to　being　the　same　decrepit　man　of　years　past—and　put　them　back　again　and　smiled　once　more　with　the　full　control　of　his　restored　youth。　Even　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　himself　considered　that　Melquíades？knowledge　had　reached　unbearable　extremes；　but　he　felt　a　healthy　excitement　when　the　gypsy　explained　to　him　atone　the　workings　of　his　false　teeth。　It　seemed　so　simple　and　so　prodigious　at　the　same　time　that　overnight　he　lost　all　interest　in　his　experiments　in　alchemy。　He　underwent　a　new　crisis　of　bad　humor。　He　did　not　go　back　to　eating　regularly；　and　he　would　spend　the　day　walking　through　the　house。　“Incredible　things　are　happening　in　the　world；？he　said　to　？rsula。　“Right　there　across　the　river　there　are　all　kinds　of　magical　instruments　while　we　keep　on　living　like　donkeys。？Those　who　had　known　him　since　the　foundation　of　Macondo　were　startled　at　how　much　he　had　changed　under　Melquíades？influence。
　　　At　first　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　had　been　a　kind　of　youthful　patriarch　who　would　give　instructions　for　planting　and　advice　for　the　raising　of　children　and　animals；　and　who　collaborated　with　everyone；　even　in　the　physical　work；　for　the　welfare　of　the　munity。　Since　his　house　from　the　very　first　had　been　the　best　in　the　village；　the　others　had　been　built　in　its　image　and　likeness。　It　had　a　small；　welllighted　living　roost；　a　dining　room　in　the　shape　of　a　terrace　with　gaily　colored　flowers；　two　bedrooms；　a　courtyard　with　a　gigantic　chestnut　tree；　a　well　kept　garden；　and　a　corral　where　goats；　pigs；　and　hens　lived　in　peaceful　munion。　The　only　animals　that　were　prohibited；　not　just　in　his　house　but　in　the　entire　settlement；　were　fighting　cocks。
　　　？rsula’s　capacity　for　work　was　the　same　as　that　of　her　husband。　Active；　small；　severe；　that　woman　of　unbreakable　nerves　who　at　no　moment　in　her　life　had　been　heard　to　sing　seemed　to　be　everywhere；　from　dawn　until　quite　late　at　night；　always　pursued　by　the　soft　whispering　of　her　stiff；　starched　petticoats。　Thanks　to　her　the　floors　of　tamped　earth；　the　unwhitewashed　mud　walls；　the　rustic；　wooden　furniture　they　had　built　themselves　were　always　dean；　and　the　old　chests　where　they　kept　their　clothes　exhaled　the　warm　smell　of　basil。
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　who　was　the　most　enterprising　man　ever　to　be　seen　in　the　village；　had　set　up　the　placement　of　the　houses　in　such　a　way　that　from　all　of　them　one　could　reach　the　river　and　draw　water　with　the　same　effort；　and　he　had　lined　up　the　streets　with　such　good　sense　that　no　house　got　more　sun　than　another　during　the　hot　time　of　day。　Within　a　few　years　Macondo　was　a　village　that　was　more　orderly　and　hard　working　than　any　known　until　then　by　its　three　hundred　inhabitants。　It　was　a　truly　happy　village　where　no　one　was　over　thirty　years　of　age　and　where　no　one　had　died。
　　　Since　the　time　of　its　founding；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　had　built　traps　and　cages。　In　a　short　time　he　filled　not　only　his　own　house　but　all　of　those　in　the　village　with　troupials；　canaries；　bee　eaters；　and　redbreasts。　The　concert　of　so　many　different　birds　became　so　disturbing　that　？rsula　would　plug　her　ears　with　beeswax　so　as　not　to　lose　her　sense　of　reality。　The　first　time　that　Melquíades？tribe　arrived；　selling　glass　balls　for　headaches；　everyone　was　surprised　that　they　had　been　able　to　find　that　village　lost　in　the　drowsiness　of　the　swamp；　and　the　gypsies　confessed　that　they　had　found　their　way　by　the　song　of　the　birds。
　　　That　spirit　of　social　initiative　disappeared　in　a　short　time；　pulled　away　by　the　fever　of　the　magnets；　the　astronomical　calculations；　the　dreams　of　transmutation；　and　the　urge　to　discover　the　wonders　of　the　world。　From　a　clean　and　active　man；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　changed　into　a　man　lazy　in　appearance；　careless　in　his　dress；　with　a　wild　beard　that　？rsula　managed　to　trim　with　great　effort　and　a　kitchen　knife。　There　were　many　who　considered　him　the　victim　of　some　strange　spell。　But　even　those　most　convinced　of　his　madness　left　work　and　family　to　follow　him　when　he　brought　out　his　tools　to　clear　the　land　and　asked　the　assembled　group　to　open　a　way　that　would　put　Macondo　in　contact　with　the　great　inventions。
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　was　pletely　ignorant　of　the　geography　of　the　region。　He　knew　that　to　the　east　there　lay　an　impenetrable　mountain　chain　and　that　on　the　other　side　of　the　mountains　there　was　the　ardent　city　of　Riohacha；　where　in　times　past—according　to　what　he　had　been　told　by　the　first　Aureliano　Buendía；　his　grandfather—Sir　Francis　Drake　had　gone　crocodile　hunting　with　cannons　and　that　he　repaired　hem　and　stuffed　them　with　straw　to　bring　to　Queen　Elizabeth。　In　his　youth；　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　and　his　men；　with　wives　and　children；　animals　and　all　kinds　of　domestic　implements；　had　crossed　the　mountains　in　search　of　an　outlet　to　the　sea；　and　after　twentysix　months　they　gave　up　the　expedition　and　founded　Macondo；　so　they　would　not　have　to　go　back。　It　was；　therefore；　a　route　that　did　not　interest　him；　for　it　could　lead　only　to　the　past。　To　the　south　lay　the　swamps；　covered　with　an　eternal　vegetable　scum　and　the　whole　vast　universe　of　the　great　swamp；　which；　according　to　what　the　gypsies　said；　had　no　limits。　The　great　swamp　in　the　west　mingled　with　a　boundless　extension　of　water　where　there　were　softskinned　cetaceans　that　had　the　head　and　torso　of　a　woman；　causing　the　ruination　of　sailors　with　the　charm　of　their　extraordinary　breasts。　The　gypsies　sailed　along　that　route　for　six　months　before　they　reached　the　strip　of　land　over　which　the　mules　that　carried　the　mail　passed。　According　to　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía’s　calculations；　the　only　possibility　of　contact　with　civilization　lay　along　the　northern　route。　So　he　handed　out　clearing　tools　and　hunting　weapons　to　the　same　men　who　had　been　with　him　during　the　founding　of　Macondo。　He　threw　his　directional　instruments　and　his　maps　into　a　knapsack；　and　he