百年孤独(英文版)-第15部分
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eyes。
“I’m doing this；？he said； “because I would rather carry you around alive and not have to keep carrying you around dead for the rest of my life。？
In that way he carried him through the middle of the street； suspended by the lapels； until he put him down on his two feet on the swamp road。 A week later he was back with six barefoot and ragged soldiers； armed with shotguns； and an oxcart in which his wife and seven daughters were traveling。 Two other carts arrived later with the furniture； the baggage； and the household utensils。 He settled his family in the Hotel Jacob； while he looked for a house； and he went back to open his office under the protection of the soldiers。 The founders of Macondo； resolving to expel the invaders； went with their older sons to put themselves at the disposal of Jos？Arcadio Buendía。 But he was against it； as he explained； because it was not manly to make trouble for someone in front of his family； and Don Apolinar had returned with his wife and daughters。 So he decided to resolve the situation in a pleasant way。
Aureliano went with him。 About that time he had begun to cultivate the black mustache with waxed tips and the somewhat stentorian voice that would characterize him in the war。 Unarmed； without paying any attention to the guards； they went into the magistrate’s office。 Don Apolinar Moscote did not lose his calm。 He introduced them to two of his daughters who happened to be there： Amparo； sixteen； dark like her mother； and Remedios； only nine； a pretty little girl with lilycolored skin and green eyes。 They were gracious and wellmannered。 As soon as the men came in； before being introduced； they gave them chairs to sit on。 But they both remained standing。
“Very well； my friend；？Jos？Arcadio Buendía said； “you may stay here； not because you have those bandits with shotguns at the door； but out of consideration for your wife and daughters。？
Don Apolinar Moscote was upset； but Jos？Arcadio Buendía did not give him time to reply。 “We only make two conditions；？he went on。 “The first： that everyone can paint his house the color he feels like。 The second： that the soldiers leave at once。 We will guarantee order for you。？The magistrate raised his right hand with all the fingers extended。
“Your word of honor？？
“The word of your enemy；？Jos？Arcadio Buendía said。 And he added in a bitter tone： “Because I must tell you one thing： you and I are still enemies。？
The soldiers left that same afternoon。 A few days later Jos？Arcadio Buendía found a house for the magistrate’s family。 Everybody was at peace except Aureliano。 The image of Remedios； the magistrate’s younger daughter； who； because of her age； could have been his daughter； kept paining him in some part of his body。 It was a physical sensation that almost bothered him when he walked； like a pebble in his shoe。
Chapter 4
THE NEW HOUSE； white； like a dove； was inaugurated with a dance。 ？rsula had got that idea from the afternoon when she saw Rebeca and Amaranta changed into adolescents； and it could almost have been said that the main reason behind the construction was a desire to have a proper place for the girls to receive visitors。 In order that nothing would be lacking in splendor she worked like a galley slave as the repairs were under way； so that before they were finished she had ordered costly necessities for the decorations； the table service； and the marvelous invention that was to arouse the astonishment of the town and the jubilation of the young people： the pianola。 They delivered it broken down； packed in several boxes that were unloaded along with the Viennese furniture； the Bohemian crystal； the table service from the Indies pany； the tablecloths from Holland； and a rich variety of lamps and candlesticks； hangings and drapes。 The import house sent along at its own expense an Italian expert； Pietro Crespi； to assemble and tune the pianola； to instruct the purchasers in its functioning； and to teach them how to dance the latest music printed on its six paper rolls。
Pietro Crespi was young and blond； the most handsome and well mannered man who had ever been seen in Macondo； so scrupulous in his dress that in spite of the suffocating heat he would work in his brocade vest and heavy coat of dark cloth。 Soaked in sweat； keeping a reverent distance from the owners of the house； he spent several weeks shut up is the parlor with a dedication much like that of Aureliano in his silverwork。 One morning； without opening the door； without calling anyone to witness the miracle； he placed the first roll in the pianola and the tormenting hammering and the constant noise of wooden lathings ceased in a silence that was startled at the order and neatness of the music。 They all ran to the parlor。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía was as if struck by lightning； not because of the beauty of the melody； but because of the automatic working of the keys of the pianola； and he set up Melquíades？camera with the hope of getting a daguerreotype of the invisible player。 That day the Italian had lunch with them。 Rebeca and Amaranta； serving the table； were intimidated by the way in which the angelic man with pale and ringless hands manipulated the utensils。 In the living room； next to the parlor； Pietro Crespi taught them how to dance。 He showed them the steps without touching them； keeping time with a metronome； under the friendly eye of ？rsula； who did not leave the room for a moment while her daughters had their lesson。 Pietro Crespi wore special pants on those days； very elastic and tight； and dancing slippers； “You don’t have to worry so much；？Jos？Arcadio Buendía told her。 “The man’s a fairy。？But she did not leave off her vigilance until the apprenticeship was over and the Italian left Macondo。 Then they began to anize the party。 ？rsula drew up a strict guest list； in which the only ones invited were the descendants of the founders； except for the family of Pilar Ternera； who by then had had two more children by unknown fathers。 It was truly a highclass list； except that it was determined by feelings of friendship； for those favored were not only the oldest friends of Jos？Arcadio Buendía’s house since before they undertook the exodus and the founding of Macondo； but also their sons and grandsons； who were the constant panions of Aureliano and Arcadio since infancy； and their daughters； who were the only ones who visited the house to embroider with Rebeca and Amaranta。 Don Apolinar Moscote； the benevolent ruler whose activity had been reduced to the maintenance from his scanty resources of two policemen armed with wooden clubs； was a figurehead。 In older to support the household expenses his daughters had opened a sewing shop； where they made felt flowers as well as guava delicacies； and wrote love notes to order。 But in spite of being modest and hardworking； the most beautiful girls in Iowa； and the most skilled at the new dances； they did not manage to be considered for the party。
While ？rsula and the girls unpacked furniture； polished silverware； and hung pictures of maidens in boats full of roses； which gave a breath of new life to the naked areas that the masons had built； Jos？Arcadio Buendía stopped his pursuit of the image of God； convinced of His nonexistence； and he took the pianola apart in order to decipher its magical secret。 Two days before the party； swamped in a shower of leftover keys and hammers； bungling in the midst of a mixup of strings that would unroll in one direction and roll up again in the other； he succeeded in a fashion in putting the instrument back together。 There had never been as many surprises and as much dashing about as in those days； but the new pitch lamps were lighted on the designated day and hour。 The house was opened； still smelling of resin and damp whitewash； and the children and grandchildren of the founders saw the porch with ferns and begonias； the quiet rooms； the garden saturated with the fragrance of the roses； and they gathered together in the parlor； facing the unknown invention that had been covered with a white sheet。 Those who were familiar with the piano； popular in other towns in the swamp； felt a little disheartened； but more bitter was ？rsula’s disappointmen
