百年孤独(英文版)-第22部分

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es　did　not　have　merit　enough；？the　president　was　saying；　“the　irresponsible　and　criminal　boldness　with　which　the　accused　drove　his　subordinates　on　to　a　useless　death　would　be　enough　to　deserve　capital　punishment。？In　the　shattered　schoolhouse　where　for　the　first　time　he　had　felt　the　security　of　power；　a　few　feet　from　the　room　where　he　had　e　to　know　the　uncertainty　of　love；　Arcadio　found　the　formality　of　death　ridiculous。　Death　really　did　not　matter　to　him　but　life　did；　and　therefore　the　sensation　he　felt　when　they　gave　their　decision　was　not　a　feeling　of　fear　but　of　nostalgia。　He　did　not　speak　until　they　asked　him　for　his　last　request。
　　　“Tell　my　wife；？he　answered　in　a　wellmodulated　voice；　“to　give　the　girl　the　name　of　？rsula。？He　paused　and　said　it　again：　“？rsula；　like　her　grandmother。　And　tell　her　also　that　if　the　child　that　is　to　be　born　is　a　boy；　they　should　name　him　Jos？Arcadio；　not　for　his　uncle；　but　for　his　grandfather。？
　　　Before　they　took　him　to　the　execution　wall　Father　Nicanor　tried　to　attend　him。　“I　have　nothing　to　repent；？Arcadio　said；　and　he　put　himself　under　the　orders　of　the　squad　after　drinking　a　cup　of　black　coffee。　The　leader　of　the　squad；　a　specialist　in　summary　executions；　had　a　name　that　had　much　more　about　it　than　chance：　Captain　Roque　Carnicero；　which　meant　butcher。　On　the　way　to　the　cemetery；　under　the　persistent　drizzle；　Arcadio　saw　that　a　radiant　Wednesday　was　breaking　out　on　the　horizon。　His　nostalgia　disappeared　with　the　mist　and　left　an　immense　curiosity　in　its　place。　Only　when　they　ordered　him　to　put　his　back　to　the　wall　did　Arcadio　see　Rebeca；　with　wet　hair　and　a　pink　flowered　dress；　opening　wide　the　door。　He　made　an　effort　to　get　her　to　recognize　him。　And　Rebeca　did　take　a　casual　look　toward　the　wall　and　was　paralyzed　with　stupor；　barely　able　to　react　and　wave　goodbye　to　Arcadio。　Arcadio　answered　her　the　same　way。　At　that　instant　the　smoking　mouths　of　the　rifles　were　aimed　at　him　and　letter　by　letter　he　heard　the　encyclicals　that　Melquíades　had　chanted　and　he　heard　the　lost　steps　of　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad；　a　virgin；　in　the　classroom；　and　in　his　nose　he　felt　the　same　icy　hardness　that　had　drawn　his　attention　in　the　nostrils　of　the　corpse　of　Remedios。　“Oh；　God　damn　it！？he　managed　to　think。　“I　fot　to　say　that　if　it　was　a　girl　they　should　name　her　Remedios。？Then；　all　accumulated　in　the　rip　of　a　claw；　he　felt　again　all　the　terror　that　had　tormented　him　in　his　life。　The　captain　gave　the　order　to　fire。　Arcadio　barely　had　time　to　put　out　his　chest　and　raise　his　head；　not　understanding　where　the　hot　liquid　that　burned　his　thighs　was　pouring　from。
　　　“Bastards！？he　shouted。　“Long　live　the　Liberal　Party！？

Chapter　7
THE　WAR　was　over　in　May。　Two　weeks　before　the　government　made　the　official　announcement　in　a　highsounding　proclamation；　which　promised　merciless　punishment　for　those　who　had　started　the　rebellion；　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　fell　prisoner　just　as　he　was　about　to　reach　the　western　frontier　disguised　as　an　Indian　witch　doctor。　Of　the　twentyone　men　who　had　followed　him　to　war；　fourteen　fell　in　bat；　six　were　wounded；　and　only　one　acpanied　him　at　the　moment　of　final　defeat：　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez。　The　news　of　his　capture　was　announced　in　Macondo　with　a　special　proclamation。　“He’s　alive；？？rsula　told　her　husband。　“Let’s　pray　to　God　for　his　enemies　to　show　him　clemency。？After　three　days　of　weeping；　one　afternoon　as　she　was　stirring　some　sweet　milk　candy　in　the　kitchen　she　heard　her　son’s　voice　clearly　in　her　ear。　“It　was　Aureliano；　？she　shouted；　running　toward　the　chestnut　tree　to　tell　her　husband　the　news。　“I　don’t　know　how　the　miracle　took　place；　but　he’s　alive　and　we’re　going　to　see　him　very　soon。？She　took　it　for　granted。　She　had　the　floors　of　the　house　scrubbed　and　changed　the　position　of　the　furniture。　One　week　later　a　rumor　from　somewhere　that　was　not　supported　by　any　proclamation　gave　dramatic　confirmation　to　the　prediction。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　had　been　condemned　to　death　and　the　sentence　would　be　carried　out　in　Macondo　as　a　lesson　to　the　population。　On　Monday；　at　tenthirty　in　the　morning；　Amaranta　was　dressing　Aureliano　Jos？when　she　heard　the　sound　of　a　distant　troop　and　the　blast　of　a　cornet　one　second　before　？rsula　burst　into　the　room　with　the　shout：　“They’re　bringing　him　now！？The　troop　struggled　to　subdue　the　overflowing　crowd　with　their　rifle　butts。　？rsula　and　Amaranta　ran　to　the　corner；　pushing　their　way　through；　and　then　they　saw　him。　He　looked　like　a　beggar。　His　clothing　was　torn；　his　hair　and　beard　were　tangled；　and　he　was　barefoot。　He　was　walking　without　feeling　the　burning　dust；　his　hands　tied　behind　his　back　with　a　rope　that　a　mounted　officer　had　attached　to　the　head　of　his　horse。　Along　with　him；　also　ragged　and　defeated；　they　were　bringing　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez。　They　were　not　sad。　They　seemed　more　disturbed　by　the　crowd　that　was　shouting　all　kinds　of　insults　at　the　troops。
　　　“My　son！？？rsula　shouted　in　the　midst　of　the　uproar；　and　she　slapped　the　soldier　who　tried　to　hold　her　back。　The　officer’s　horse　reared。　Then　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　stopped；　tremulous；　avoided　the　arms　of　his　mother；　and　fixed　a　stern　look　on　her　eyes。
　　　“Go　home；　Mama；？he　said。　“Get　permission　from　the　authorities　to　e　see　me　in　jail。？
　　　He　looked　at　Amaranta；　who　stood　indecisively　two　steps　behind　？rsula；　and　he　smiled　as　he　asked　her；　“What　happened　to　your　hand？？Amaranta　raised　the　hand　with　the　black　bandage。　“A　burn；？she　said；　and　took　？rsula　away　so　that　the　horses　would　not　run　her　down。　The　troop　took　off。　A　special　guard　surrounded　the　prisoners　and　took　them　to　the　jail　at　a　trot。
　　　At　dusk　？rsula　visited　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　in　jail。　She　had　tried　to　get　permission　through　Don　Apolinar　Moscote；　but　he　had　lost　all　authority　in　the　face　of　the　military　omnipotence。　Father　Nicanor　was　in　bed　with　hepatic　fever。　The　parents　of　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez；　who　had　not　been　condemned　to　death；　had　tried　to　see　him　and　were　driven　off　with　rifle　butts。　Facing　the　impossibility　of　finding　anyone　to　intervene；　convinced　that　her　son　would　be　shot　at　dawn；　？rsula　wrapped　up　the　things　she　wanted　to　bring　him　and　went　to　the　jail　alone。
　　　“I　am　the　mother　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；？she　announced。
　　　The　sentries　blocked　her　way。　“I’m　going　in　in　any　case；？？rsula　warned　them。　“So　if　you　have　orders　to　shoot；　start　right　in。？She　pushed　one　of　them　aside　and　went　into　the　former　classroom；　where　a　group　of　halfdressed　soldiers　were　oiling　their　weapons。　An　officer　in　a　field　uniform；　ruddyfaced；　with　very　thick　glasses　and　ceremonious　manners；　signaled　to　the　sentries　to　withdraw。
　　　“I　am　the　mother　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía；？？rsula　repeated。
　　　“You　must　mean；？the　officer　corrected　with　a　friendly　smile；　“that　you　are　the　mother　of　Mister　Aureliano　Buendía。？？rsula　recognized　in　his　affected　way　of　speaking　the　languid　cadence　of　the　stuckup　people　from　the　highlands。
　　　“As　you　say；　mister；？she　accepted；　“just　as　long　as　I　can　see　him。？
　　　There　were　superior　orders　that　prohibited　visits　to　prisoners　condemned　to　death；　but　the　officer　assumed　the　responsibility　of　letting　her　have　a　fifteenminute　stay。　？rsula　showed　him　what　she　had　in　the　bundle：　a　change　of　clean　clothing；　the　short　boots　that　her　son　had　worn　at　his　wedding；　and　the　sweet　milk　candy　that　she　had　kept　for　him　since　the　day　she　had　sensed　his　return。　She　found　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　in　the　room　that　was　used　as　a　cell；　lying　on　a　cot　with　his　arms　spread　out　because　his　armpits　were　paved　with　sores。　They　had　allowed　him　to　shave。　The　thick　mustache　with　twisted　ends　accentuated　the　sharp　angles　of　his　cheekbones。　He　looked　paler　to　？rsula　than　when　he　had　left；　a　little　taller；　and　more　solitary　than　ever。　He　knew　all　about　the　details　of　the　house：　Pietro　Crespi’s　suicide；　Arcadio’s　arbitrary　acts　and　execution。　the　dauntlessness　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía　underneath　the　chestnut　tree。　He　knew　that　Amaranta　had　consecrated　her　virginal　widowhood　to　the　rearing　of　Aureliano　Jos？and　that　the　latter　was　beginning　to　show　signs　of　quite　good　judgment　and　that　he　had　learned　to　read　and　write　at　the　same　time　he　had　learned　to　speak。　From　the　moment　In　which　she　entered　the　room　？rsula　felt　inhibited　by　the　maturity　of　her　son；　by　his　aura　of　mand；　by　the　glow　of　authority　that　radiated　from　his　skin。　She　was　surprised　that　he　was　so　wellinformed。　“You　knew　all　along　that　I　was　a　wizard；？he　joked。　And　he　added　in　a　serious　tone；　“This　morning；　when　they　brought　me　here；　I　had　the　impression　that　I　had　already　been　through　all　that　before。？In　fact；　while　the　crowd　was　roaring　alongside　him；　he　had　been　concentrating　his　thoughts；　startled　at　how　the　town　had　aged。　The　leaves　of　the　almond　trees　were　broken。　The　houses；　painted　blue；　then　painted　red；　had　ended　up　with　an　indefinable　coloration。
　　　“What　did　you　expect？？？rsula　sighed。　“Time　passes。？
　　　“That’s　how　it　goes；？Aureliano　admitted；　“but　not　so　much。？
　　　In　that　way　the　longawaited　visit；　for　which　both　had　prepared　questions　and　had　even　anticipated　answers；　was　once　more　the　usual　everyday　conversation。　When　the　guard　announced　the　end　of　the　visit；　Aureliano　took　out　a　roll　of　sweaty　papers　from　under　the　cot。　They　were　his　poetry；　the　poems　inspired　by　Remedios；　which　he　had　taken　with　him　when　he　left；　and　those　he　had　written　later　on　during　chance　pauses　in　the　war。　“Promise　me　that　no　one　will　read　them；？he　said。　“Light　the　oven　with　them　this　very　night。？？rsula　promised　and　stood　up　to　kiss　him　goodbye。
　　　“I　brought　you　a　revolver；？she　murmured。
　　　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　saw　that　the　sentry　could　not　see。　“It　won’t　do　me　any　good；？he　said　in　a　low　voice；　“but　give　it　to　me　in　case　they　search　you　on　the　way　out。？？rsula　took　the　revolver　out　of　her　bodice　and　put　it　under　the　mattress　of　the　cot。　“And　don’t　say　goodbye；？he　concluded　with　emphatic　calmness。　“Don’t　beg　or　bow　down　to　anyone。　Pretend　that　they　shot　me　a　long　time　ago。？？rsula　bit　her　lip　so　as　not　to　cry。
　　　“Put　some　hot　stones　on　those　sores；？she　said。
　　　She　turned　halfway　around　and　left　the　room。　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　remained　standing；　thoughtful；　until　the　door　closed。　Then　he　lay　down　again　with　his　arms　open。　Since　the　beginning　of　adolescence；　when　he　had　begun　to　be　aware　of　his　premonitions；　he　thought　that　death　would　be　announced　with　a　definite；　unequivocal；　irrevocable　signal；　but　there　were　only　a　few　hours　left　before　he　would　die　and　the　signal　had　not　e。　On　a　certain　occasion　a　very　beautiful　woman　had　e　into　his　camp　in　Tucurinca　and　asked　the　sentries？permission　to　see　him。　They　let　her　through　because　they　were　aware　of　the　fanaticism　of　mothers；　who　sent　their　daughters　to　the　bedrooms　of　the　most　famous　warriors；　according　to　what　they　said；　to　improve　the　breed。　That　night　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　was　finishing　the　poem　about　the　man　who　is　lost　in　the　rain　when　the　girl　came　into　his　room。　He　turned　his　back　to　her　to　put　the　sheet　of　paper　into　the　locked　drawer　where　he　kept　his　poetry。　And　then　he　sensed　it。　He　grasped　the　pistol　in　the　drawer　without　turning　his　head。
　　　“Please　don’t　shoot；？he　said。
　　　When　he　turned　around　holding　his　Pistol；　the　girl　had　lowered　hers　a