百年孤独(英文版)-第47部分
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nd out and from top to bottom； with onepeso banknotes。 The old mansion； painted white since the time they had brought the pianola； took on the strange look of a mosque。 In the midst of the excitement of the family the scandalization of ？rsula； the joy of the people cramming the street to watch that apotheosis of squandering。 Aureliano Segundo finished by papering the house from the front to the kitchen； including bathrooms and bedrooms； and threw the leftover bills into the courtyard。
“Now；？he said in a final way； “I hope that nobody in this house ever talks to me about money again。？
That was what happened。 ？rsula had the bills taken down； stuck to great cakes of whitewash； and the house was painted white again。 “Dear Lord；？she begged； “make us poor again the way we were when we founded this town so that you will not collect for this squandering in the other life。？Her prayers were answered in reverse。 One of the workmen removing the bills bumped into an enormous plaster statue of Saint Joseph that someone had left in the house during the last years of the war and the hollow figure broke to pieces on the floor。 It had been stuffed with gold coins。 No one could remember who had brought that lifesized saint。 “Three men brought it；？Amaranta explained。 “They asked us to keep it until the rains were over and I told them to put it there in the corner where nobody would bump into it； and there they put it； very carefully； and there it’s been ever since because they never came back for it。？Later on； ？rsula had put candles on it and had prostrated herself before it； not suspecting that instead of a saint she was adoring almost four bundled pounds of gold。 The tardy evidence of her involuntary paganism made her even more upset。 She spat on the spectacular pile of coins； put them in three canvas sacks； and buried them in a secret place； hoping that sooner or later the three unknown men would e to reclaim them。 Much later； during the difficult years of her decrepitude； ？rsula would intervene in the conversations of the many travelers who came by the house at that time and ask them if they had left a plaster Saint Joseph there during the war to be taken care of until the rains passed。
Things like that which gave ？rsula such consternation； were monplace in those days。 Macondo was swamped in a miraculous prosperity。 The adobe houses of the founders had been replaced by brick buildings with wooden blinds and cement floors which made the suffocating heat of two o’clock in the afternoon more bearable。 All that remained at that time of Jos？Arcadio Buendía’s ancient village were the dusty almond trees； destined to resist the most arduous of circumstances； and the river of clear water whose prehistoric stones had been pulverized by the frantic hammers of Jos？Arcadio Segundo when he set about opening the channel in order to establish a boat line。 It was a mad dream； parable to those of his greatgrandfather； for the rocky riverbed and the numerous rapids prevented navigation from Macondo to the sea。 But Jos？Arcadio Segundo； in an unforeseen burst of temerity； stubbornly kept on with the project。 Until then he had shown no sign of imagination。 Except for his precarious adventure with Petra Cotes； he had never known a woman。 ？rsula had considered him the quietest example the family had ever produced in all its history； incapable of standing out even as a handler of fighting cocks； when Colonel Aureliano Buendía told him the story of the Spanish galleon aground eight miles from the sea； the carbonized frame of which he had seen himself during the war。 The story； which for so many years had seemed fantastic to so many people； was a revelation for Jos？Arcadio Segundo。 He auctioned off his roosters to the highest bidder； recruited men； bought tools； and set about the awesome task of breaking stones； digging canals； clearing away rapids； and even harnessing waterfalls。 “I know all of this by heart；？？rsula would shout。 “It’s as if time had turned around and we were back at the beginning。？When he thought that the river was navigable； Jos？Arcadio Segundo gave his brother a detailed account of his plans and the latter gave him the money he needed for the enterprise。 He disappeared for a long time。 It had been said that his plan to buy a boat was nothing but a trick to make off with his brother’s money when the news spread that a strange craft was approaching the town。 The inhabitants of Macondo； who no longer remembered the colossal undertakings of Jos？Arcadio Buendía； ran to the riverbank and saw with eyes popping in disbelief the arrival of the first and last boat ever to dock in the town。 It was nothing but a log raft drawn by thick ropes pulled by twenty men who walked along the bank。 In the prow； with a glow of satisfaction in his eyes； Jos？Arcadio Segundo was directing the arduous maneuver。 There arrived with him a rich group of splendid matrons who were protecting themselves from the burning sun with gaudy parasols； and wore on their shoulders fine silk kerchiefs； with colored creams on their faces and natural flowers in their hair and golden serpents on their arms and diamonds in their teeth。 The log raft was the only vessel that Jos？Arcadio Segundo was able to bring to Macondo； and only once； but he never recognized the failure of his enterprise； but proclaimed his deed as a victory of will power。 He gave a scrupulous accounting to his brother and very soon plunged back into the routine of cockfights。 The only thing that remained of that unfortunate venture was the breath of renovation that the matrons from France brought； as their magnificent arts transformed traditional methods of love and their sense of social wellbeing abolished Catarino’s antiquated place and turned the street into a bazaar of Japanese lanterns and nostalgic hand ans。 They were the promoters of the bloody carnival that plunged Macondo into delirium for three days and whose only lasting consequence was having given Aureliano Segundo the opportunity to meet Fernanda del Carpio。
Remedios the Beauty was proclaimed queen。 ？rsula； who shuddered at the disquieted beauty of her greatgranddaughter； could not prevent the choice。 Until then she had succeeded in keeping her off the streets unless it was to go to mass with Amaranta； but she made her cover her face with a black shawl。 The most impious men； those who would disguise themselves as priests to say sacrilegious masses in Catarino’s store； would go to church with an aim to see； if only for an instant； the face of Remedios the Beauty； whose legendary good looks were spoken of with alarming excitement throughout the swamp。 It was a long time before they were able to do so； and it would have been better for them if they never had； because most of them never recovered their peaceful habits of sleep。 The man who made it possible； a foreigner； lost his serenity forever； became involved in the sloughs of abjection and misery； and years later was cut to pieces by a train after he had fallen asleep on the tracks。 From the moment he was seen in the church； wearing a green velvet suit and an embroidered vest； no one doubted that he came from far away； perhaps from some distant city outside of the country； attracted by the magical fascination of Remedios the Beauty。 He was so handsome； so elegant and dignified； with such presence； that Pietro Crespi would have been a mere fop beside him and many women whispered with spiteful smiles that he was the one who really should have worn the shawl。 He did not speak to anyone in Macondo。 He appeared at dawn on Sunday like a prince in a fairy tale； riding a horse with silver stirrups and a velvet blanket； and he left town after mass。
The power of his presence was such that from the first time he was seen in the church everybody took it for granted that a silent and tense duel had been established between him and Remedios the Beauty； a secret pact； an irrevocable challenge that would end not only in love but also in death。 On the sixth Sunday the gentleman appeared with a yellow rose in his hand。 He heard mass standing； as he always did； and at the end he stepped in front of Remedios the Beauty and offered her the solitary rose。 She took it with a natural gesture； as if she had
