百年孤独(英文版)-第67部分

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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　ten…thirty　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　half…dressed　soldiers　were　oiling　their　weapons。　An　officer　in　a　field　uniform；　ruddy…faced；　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　stuck…up　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　fifteen…minute　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　well…informed。　“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　long…awaited　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　good…bye。
　　　“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　good…bye；？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　and　did　not　know　what　to　do。　In　that　way　he　had　avoided　four　out　of　eleven　traps。　On　the　other　hand；　someone　who　was　never　caught　entered　the　revolutionary　headquarters　one　night　in　Manaure　and　stabbed　to　death　his　close　friend　Colonel　Magnífico　Visbal；　to　whom　he　had　given　his　cot　so　that　he　could　sweat　out　a　fever。　A　few　yards　away；　sleeping　in　a　hammock　in　the　same　room。　he　was　not　aware　of　anything。　His　efforts　to　systematize　his　premonitions　were　useless。　They　would　e　suddenly　in　a　wave　of　supernatural　lucidity；　like　an　absolute　and　momentaneous　conviction；　but　they　could　not　be　grasped。　On　occasion　they　were　so　natural　that　he　identified　them　as　premonitions　only　after　they　had　been　fulfilled。　Frequently　they　were　nothing　but　ordinary　bits　of　superstition。　But　when　they　condemned　him　to　death　and　asked　him　to　state　his　last　wish；　he　did　not　have　the　least　difficulty　in　identifying　the　premonition　that　inspired　his　answer。
　　　“I　ask　that　the　sentence　be　carried　out　in　Macondo；？he　said。
　　　The　president　of　the　court…martial　was　annoyed。　“Don’t　be　clever；　Buendía；？　he　told　him。　“That’s　just　a　trick　to　gain　more　time。？
　　　“If　you　don’t　fulfill　it；　that　will　be　your　worry。？the　colonel　said；　“but　that’s　my　last　wish。？
　　　Since　then　the　premonitions　had　abandoned　him。　The　day　when　？rsula　visited　him　in　jail；　after　a　great　deal　of　thinking　he　came　to　the　conclusion　that　perhaps　death　would　not　be　announced　that　time　because　it　did　not　depend　on　chance　but　on　the　will　of　his　executioners。　He　spent　the　night　awake；　tormented　by　the　pain　of　his　sores。　A　little　before　dawn　he　heard　steps　in　the　hallway。　“They’re　ing；？he　said　to　himself；　and　for　no　reason　he　thought　of　Jos？Arcadio　Buendía；　who　at　that　moment　was　thinking　about　him　under　the　dreary　dawn　of　the　chestnut　tree。　He　did　not　feel　fear　or　nostalgia；　but　an　intestinal　rage　at　the　idea　that　this　artificial　death　would　not　let　him　see　the　end　of　so　many　things　that　he　had　left　unfinished。　The　door　opened　and　a　sentry　came　in　with　a　mug　of　coffee。　On　the　following　day　at　the　same　hour　he　would　still　be　doing　what　he　was　then；　raging　with　the　pain　in　his　armpits；　and　the　same　thing　happened。　On　Thursday　he　shared　the　sweet　milk　candy　with　the　guards　and　put　on　his　clean　clothes；　which　were　tight　for　him；　and　the　patent　leather　boots。　By　Friday　they　had　still　not　shot　him。
　　　Actually；　they　did　not　dare　carry　out　the　sentence。　The　rebelliousness　of　the　town　made　the　military　men　think　that　the　execution　of　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　might　have　serious　political　consequences　not　only　in　Macondo　but　throughout　the　area　of　the　swamp；　so　they　consulted　the　authorities　in　the　capital　of　the　province。　On　Saturday　night；　while　they　were　waiting　for　an　answer　Captain　Roque　Carnicero　went　with　some　other　officers　to　Catarino’s　place。　Only　one　woman；　practically　threatened；　dared　take　him　to　her　room。　“They　don’t　want　to　go　to　bed　with　a　man　they　know　is　going　to　die；？she　confessed　to　him。　“No　one　knows　how　it　will　e；　but　everybody　is　going　around　saying　that　the　officer　who　shoots　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　all　the　soldiers　in　the　squad；　one　by　one；　will　be　murdered；　with　no　escape；　sooner　or　later；　even　if　they　hide　at　the　ends　of　the　earth。？Captain　Roque　Carnicero　mentioned　it　to　the　other　officers　and　they　told　their　superiors。　On　Sunday；　although　no　one　had　revealed　it　openly；　although　no　action　on　the　part　of　the　military　had　disturbed　the　tens