百年孤独(英文版)-第63部分

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b；　not　knowing　herself　that　she　was　his　greatgrandmother。　Only　in　a　house　like　that　was　it　conceivable　for　her　always　to　sleep　on　a　mat　she　laid　out　on　the　pantry　floor　in　the　midst　of　the　nocturnal　noise　of　the　rats；　and　without　telling　anyone　that　one　night　she　had　awakened　with　the　frightened　feeling　that　someone　was　looking　at　her　in　the　darkness　and　that　it　was　a　poisonous　snake　crawling　over　her　stomach。　She　knew　that　if　she　had　told　？rsula；　the　latter　would　have　made　her　sleep　in　her　own　bed；　but　those　were　times　when　no　one　was　aware　of　anything　unless　it　was　shouted　on　the　porch；　because　with　the　bustle　of　the　bakery；　the　surprises　of　the　war；　the　care　of　the　children；　there　was　not　much　room　for　thinking　about　other　peoples　happiness。　Petra　Cotes　whom　she　had　never　seen；　was　the　only　one　who　remembered　her。　She　saw　to　it　that　she　had　a　good　pair　of　shoes　for　street　wear；　that　she　always　had　clothing；　even　during　the　times　when　the　raffles　were　working　only　through　some　miracle。　When　Fernanda　arrived　at　the　house　she　had　good　reason　to　think　that　she　was　an　ageless　servant；　and　even　though　she　heard　it　said　several　times　that　she　was　her　husband’s　mother　it　was　so　incredible　that　it　took　her　longer　to　discover　it　than　to　fet　it。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　never　seemed　bothered　by　that　lowly　position。　On　the　contrary；　one　had　the　impression　that　she　liked　to　stay　in　the　corners；　without　a　pause；　without　a　plaint；　keeping　clean　and　in　order　the　immense　house　that　she　had　lived　in　ever　since　adolescence　and　that；　especially　during　the　time　of　the　banana　pany；　was　more　like　a　barracks　than　a　home。　But　when　？rsula　died　the　superhuman　diligence　of　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad；　her　tremendous　capacity　for　work；　began　to　fall　apart。　It　was　not　only　that　she　was　old　and　exhausted；　but　overnight　the　house　had　plunged　into　a　crisis　of　senility。　A　soft　moss　grew　up　the　walls。　When　there　was　no　longer　a　bare　spot　in　the　courtyard；　the　weeds　broke　through　the　cement　of　the　porch；　breaking　it　like　glass；　and　out　of　the　cracks　grew　the　same　yellow　flowers　that　？rsula　had　found　in　the　glass　with　Melquíades？false　teeth　a　century　before。　With　neither　the　time　nor　the　resources　to　halt　the　challenge　of　nature；　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　spent　the　day　in　the　bedrooms　driving　out　the　lizards　who　would　return　at　night。　One　morning　she　saw　that　the　red　ants　had　left　the　undermined　foundations；　crossed　the　garden；　climbed　up　the　railing；　where　the　begonias　had　taken　on　an　earthen　color；　and　had　penetrated　into　the　heart　of　the　house。　She　first　tried　to　kill　them　with　a　broom；　then　with　insecticides；　and　finally　with　lye；　but　the　next　day　they　were　back　in　the　same　place；　still　passing　by；　tenacious　and　invincible。　Fernanda；　writing　letters　to　her　children；　was　not　aware　of　the　unchecked　destructive　attack。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　continued　struggling　alone；　fighting　the　weeds　to　stop　them　from　getting　into　the　kitchen；　pulling　from　the　walls　the　tassels　of　spider　webs　which　were　rebuilt　in　a　few　hours；　scraping　off　the　termites。　But　when　she　saw　that　Melquíades？room　was　also　dusty　and　filled　with　cobwebs　even　though　she　swept　and　dusted　three　times　a　day；　and　that　in　spite　of　her　furious　cleaning　it　was　threatened　by　the　debris　and　the　air　of　misery　that　had　been　foreseen　only　by　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　the　young　officer；　she　realized　that　she　was　defeated。　Then　she　put　on　her　worn　Sunday　dress；　some　old　shoes　of　？rsula’s；　and　a　pair　of　cotton　stockings　that　Amaranta　？rsula　had　given　her；　and　she　made　a　bundle　out　of　the　two　or　three　changes　of　clothing　that　she　had　left。
　　　“I　give　up；？she　said　to　Aureliano。　“This　is　too　much　house　for　my　poor　bones。？
　　　Aureliano　asked　her　where　she　was　going　and　she　made　a　vague　sign；　as　if　she　did　not　have　the　slightest　idea　of　her　destination。　She　tried　to　be　more　precise；　however；　saying　that　she　was　going　to　spend　her　last　years　with　a　first　cousin　who　lived　in　Riohacha。　It　was　not　a　likely　explanation。　Since　the　death　of　her　parents　she　had　not　had　contact　with　anyone　in　town　or　received　letters　or　messages；　nor　had　she　been　heard　to　speak　of　any　relatives。　Aureliano　gave　her　fourteen　little　gold　fishes　because　she　was　determined　to　leave　with　only　what　she　had：　one　peso　and　twentyfive　cents。　From　the　window　of　the　room　he　saw　her　cross　the　courtyard　with　her　bundle　of　clothing；　dragging　her　feet　and　bent　over　by　her　years；　and　he　saw　her　reach　her　hand　through　an　opening　in　the　main　door　and　replace　the　bar　after　she　had　gone　out。　Nothing　was　ever　heard　of　her　again。
　　　When　she　heard　about　the　flight；　Fernanda　ranted　for　a　whole　day　as　she　checked　trunks；　dressers；　and　closets；　item　by　item；　to　make　sure　that　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　had　not　made　off　with　anything。　She　burned　her　fingers　trying　to　light　a　fire　for　the　first　time　in　her　life　and　she　had　to　ask　Aureliano　to　do　her　the　favor　of　showing　her　how　to　make　coffee。　Fernanda　would　find　her　breakfast　ready　when　she　arose　and　she　would　leave　her　room　again　only　to　get　the　meal　that　Aureliano　had　left　covered　on　the　embers　for　her；　which　she　would　carry　to　the　table　to　eat　on　linen　tablecloths　and　between　candelabra；　sitting　at　the　solitary　head　of　the　table　facing　fifteen　empty　chairs。　Even　under　those　circumstances　Aureliano　and　Fernanda　did　not　share　their　solitude；　but　both　continued　living　on　their　own；　cleaning　their　respective　rooms　while　the　cobwebs　fell　like　snow　on　the　rose　bushes；　carpeted　the　beams；　cushioned　the　walls。　It　was　around　that　time　that　Fernanda　got　the　impression　that　the　house　was　filling　up　with　elves。　It　was　as　if　things；　especially　those　for　everyday　use；　had　developed　a　faculty　for　changing　location　on　their　own。　Fernanda　would　waste　time　looking　for　the　shears　that　she　was　sure　she　had　put　on　the　bed　and　after　turning　everything　upside　down　she　would　find　them　on　a　shelf　in　the　kitchen；　where　she　thought　she　had　not　been　for　four　days。　Suddenly　there　was　no　fork　in　the　silver　chest　and　she　would　find　six　on　the　altar　and　three　in　the　washroom。　That　wandering　about　of　things　was　even　more　exasperating　when　she　sat　down　to　write。　The　inkwell　that　she　had　placed　at　her　right　would　be　on　the　left；　the　blotter　would　be　lost　and　she　would　find　it　two　days　later　under　her　pillow；　and　the　pages　written　to　Jos？Arcadio　would　get　mixed　up　with　those　written　to　Amaranta　？rsula；　and　she　always　had　the　feeling　of　mortification　that　she　had　put　the　letters　in　opposite　envelopes；　as　in　fact　happened　several　times。　On　one　occasion　she　lost　her　fountain　pen。　Two　weeks　later　the　mailman；　who　had　found　it　in　his　bag；　returned　it。　He　had　been　going　from　house　to　house　looking　for　its　owner。　At　first　she　thought　it　was　some　business　of　the　invisible　doctors；　like　the　disappearance　of　the　pessaries；　and　she　even　started　a　letter　to　them　begging　them　to　leave　her　alone；　but　she　had　to　interrupt　it　to　do　something　and　when　she　went　back　to　her　room　she　not　only　did　not　find　the　letter　she　had　started　but　she　had　fotten　the　reason　for　writing　it。　For　a　time　she　thought　it　was　Aureliano。　She　began　to　spy　on　him；　to　put　things　in　his　path　trying　to　catch　him　when　he　changed　their　location；　but　she　was　soon　convinced　that　Aureliano　never　left　Melquíades？room　except　to　go　to　the　kitchen　or　the　toilet；　and　that　he　was　not　a　man　to　play　tricks。　So　in　the　end　she　believed　that　it　was　the　mischief　of　elves　and　she　decided　to　secure　everything　in　the　place　where　she　would　use　it。　She　tied　the　shears　to　the　head　of　her　bed　with　a　long　string。　She　tied　the　pen　and　the　blotter　to　the　leg　of　the　table；　and　the　glued　the　inkwell　to　the　top　of　it　to　the　right　of　the　place　where　she　normally　wrote。　The　problems　were　not　solved　overnight；　because　a　few　hours　after　she　had　tied　the　string　to　the　shears　it　was　not　long　enough　for　her　to　cut　with；　as　if　the　elves　had　shortened　it。　The　same　thing　happened　to　her　with　the　string　to　the　pen　and　even　with　her　own　arm　which　after　a　short　time　of　writing　could　not　reach　the　inkwell。　Neither　Amaranta　？rsula　in　Brussels　nor　Jos？Arcadio　in　Rome　ever　heard　about　those　insignificant　misfortunes。　Fernanda　told　them　that　she　was　happy　and　in　reality　she　was；　precisely　because　she　felt　free　from　any　promise；　as　if　life　were　pulling　her　once　more　toward　the　world　of　her　parents；　where　one　did　not　suffer　with　daytoday　problems　because　they　were　solved　beforehand　in　one’s　imagination。　That　endless　correspondence　made　her　lose　her　sense　of　time；　especially　after　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　had　left。　She　had　been　accustomed　to　keep　track　of　the　days；　months；　and　years；　using　as　points　of　reference　the　dates　set　for　the　return　of　her　children。　But　when　they　changed　their　plans　time　and　time　again；　the　dates　became　confused；　the　periods　were　mislaid；　and　one　day　seemed　so　much　like　another　that　one　could　not　feel　them　pass。　Instead　of　being　impatient；　she　felt　a　deep　pleasure　in　the　delay。　It　did　not　worry　her　that　many　years　after　announcing　the　eve　of　his　final　vows；　Jos？Arcadio　was　still　saying　that　he　was　waiting　to　finish　his　studies　in　advanced　theology　in　order　to　undertake　those　in　diplomacy；　because　she　understood　how　steep　and　paved　with　obstacles　was　the　spiral　stairway　that　led　to　the　throne　of　Saint　Peter。　On　the　other　hand；　her　spirits　rose　with　news　that　would　have　been　insignificant　for　other　people；　such　as　the　fact　that　her　son　had　seen　the　Pope。　She　felt　a　similar　pleasure　when　Amaranta　？rsula　wrote　to　tell　her　that　her　studies　would　last　longer　than　the　time　foreseen　because　her　excellent　grades　had　earned　her　privileges　that　her　father　had　not　taken　into　account　in　his　calculations。
　　　More　than　three　years　had　passed　since　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　had　brought　him　the　grammar　when　Aureliano　succeeded　in　translating　the　first　sheet。　It　was　not　a　useless　chore。　but　it　was　only　a　first　step　along　a　road　whose　length　it　was　impossible　to　predict；　because　the　text　in　Spanish　did　not　mean　anything：　the　lines　were　in　code。　Aureliano　lacked　the　means　to　establish　the　keys　that　would　permit　him　to　dig　them　out；　but　since　Melquíades　had　told　him　that　the　books　he　needed　to　get　to　the　bottom　of　the　parchments　were　in　the　wise　Catalonian’s　store；　he　decided　to　speak　to　Fernanda　so　that　she　would　let　him　get　them。　In　the　room　devoured　by　rubble；　whose　unchecked　proliferation　had　finally　defeated　it；　he　thought　about　the　best　way　to　frame　the　request；　but　when　he　found　Fernanda　taking　her　meal　from　the　embers；　which　was　his　only　chance　to　speak　to　her；　the　laboriously　formulated　request　stuck　in　his　throat　and　he　lost　his　voice。　That　was　the　only　time　that　he　watched　her。　He　listened　to　her　steps　in　the　bedroom。　He　heard　her　on　her　way　to　the　door　to　await　the　letters　from　her　children　and　to　give　hers　to　the　mailman；　and　he　listened　until　late　at　night　to　the　harsh；　impassioned　scratching　of　her　pen　on　the　paper　before　hearing　the　sound　of　the　light　switch　and　the　murmur　of　her　prayers　in　the　darkness。　Only　then　did　he　go　to　sleep；　trusting　that　on　the　following　day　the　awaited　opportunity　would　e。　He　became　so　inspired　with　the　idea　that　permission　would　be　granted　that　one　morning　he　cut　his　hair；　which　at　that　time　reached　down　to　his　shoulders；　shaved　off　his　tangled　beard；　put　on　some　tightfitting　pants　and　a　shirt　with