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百年孤独(英文版)-第95部分

小说: 百年孤独(英文版) 字数: 每页4000字

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in his ear; and with how much astuteness he had ransacked her vials of perfume so that he could smell it on the necks of the little girls who went to bed because of hunger。 Frightened by the passion of that outburst; Amaranta ?rsula was closing her fingers; contracting them like a shellfish until her wounded hand; free of all pain and any vestige of pity; was converted into a knot of emeralds and topazes and stony and unfeeling bones。
   “Fool!?she said as if she were spitting。 “I’m sailing on the first ship leaving for Belgium。?
   ?lvaro had e to the wise Catalonian’s bookstore one of those afternoons proclaiming at the top of his lungs his latest discovery: a zoological brothel。 It was called The Golden Child and it was a huge open air salon through which no less than two hundred bitterns who told the time with a deafening cackling strolled at will。 In wire pens that surrounded the dance floor and among large Amazonian camellias there were herons of different colors; crocodiles as fat as pigs; snakes with twelve rattles; and a turtle with a gilded shell who dove in a small artificial ocean。 There was a big white dog; meek and a pederast; who would give stud services nevertheless in order to be fed。 The atmosphere had an innocent denseness; as if it had just been created; and the beautiful mulatto girls who waited hopelessly among the bloodred petals and the outmoded phonograph records knew ways of love that man had left behind fotten in the earthly paradise。 The first night that the group visited that greenhouse of illusions the splendid and taciturn old woman who guarded the entrance in a wicker rocking chair felt that time was turning back to its earliest origins when among the five who were arriving she saw a bony; jaundiced man with Tartar cheekbones; marked forever and from the beginning of the world with the pox of solitude。
   “Lord; Lord;?she sighed; “Aureliano!?
   She was seeing Colonel Aureliano Buendía once more as she had seen him in the light of a lamp long before the wars; long before the desolation of glory and the exile of disillusionment; that remote dawn when he went to her bedroom to give the first mand of his life: the mand to give him love。 It was Pilar Ternera。 Years before; when she had reached one hundred fortyfive years of age; she had given up the pernicious custom of keeping track of her age and she went on living in the static and marginal time of memories; in a future perfectly revealed and established; beyond the futures disturbed by the insidious snares and suppositions of her cards。
   From that night on Aureliano; took refuge in the passionate tenderness and understanding of his unknown greatgreatgrandmother。 Sitting in her wicker rocking chair; she would recall the past; reconstruct the grandeur and misfortunes of the family and the splendor of Macondo; which was now erased; while ?lvaro frightened the crocodiles with his noisy laughter and Alfonso invented outlandish stories about the bitterns who had pecked out the eyes of four customers who misbehaved the week before; and Gabriel was in the room of the pensive mulatto girl who did not collect in money but in letters to a smuggler boyfriend who was in prison on the other side of the Orinoco because the border guards had caught him and had made him sit on a chamberpot that filled up with a mixture of shit and diamonds。 That true brothel; with that maternal proprietress; was the world of which Aureliano had dreamed during his prolonged captivity。 He felt so well; so close to perfect panionship; that he thought of no other refuge on the afternoon on which Amaranta ?rsula had made his illusions crumble。 He was ready to unburden himself with words so that someone could break the knots that bound his chest; but he only managed to let out a fluid; warm; and restorative weeping in Pilar Ternera’s lap。 She let him finish; scratching his head with the tips of her fingers; and without his having revealed that he was weeping from love; she recognized immediately the oldest sobs in the history of man。
   “It’s all right; child;?she consoled him。 “Now tell me who it is。?
   When Aureliano told her; Pilar Ternera let out a deep laugh; the old expansive laugh that ended up as a cooing of doves。 There was no mystery in the heart of a Buendía that was impenetrable for her because a century of cards and experience had taught her that the history of the family was a machine with unavoidable repetitions; a turning wheel that would have gone on spilling into eternity were it not for the progressive and irremediable wearing of the axle。
   “Don’t worry;?she said; smiling。 “Wherever she is right now; she’s waiting for you。?
   It was half past four in the afternoon when Amaranta ?rsula came out of her bath。 Aureliano saw her go by his room with a robe of soft folds and a towel wrapped around her head like a turban。 He followed her almost on tiptoes; stumbling from drunkenness; and he went into the nuptial bedroom just as she opened the robe and closed it again in fright。 He made a silent signal toward the next room where the door was half open and where Aureliano knew that Gaston was beginning to write a letter。
   “Go away;?she said voicelessly。
   Aureliano; smiled; picked her up by the waist with both hands like a pot of begonias; and dropped her on her back on the bed。 With a brutal tug he pulled off her bathrobe before she had time to resist and he loomed over an abyss of newly washed nudity whose skin color; lines of fuzz; and hidden moles had all been imagined in the shadows of the other rooms。 Amaranta ?rsula defended herself sincerely with the astuteness of a wise woman; weaseling her slippery; flexible; and fragrant weasel’s body as she tried to knee him in the kidneys and scorpion his face with her nails; but without either of them giving a gasp that might not have been taken for that breathing of a person watching the meager April sunset through the open window。 It was a fierce fight; a battle to the death; but it seemed to be without violence because it consisted of distorted attacks and ghostly evasions; slow; cautious; solemn; so that during it all there was time for the petunias to bloom and for Gaston to fet about his aviator’s dream in the next room; as if they were two enemy lovers seeking reconciliation at the bottom of an aquarium。 In the heat of that savage and ceremonious struggle; Amaranta ?rsula understood that her meticulous silence was so irrational that it could awaken the suspicions of her nearby husband much more than the sound of warfare that they were trying to avoid。 Then she began to laugh with her lips tight together; without giving up the fight; but defending herself with false bites and deweaseling her body little by little until they both were conscious of being adversaries and acplices at the same time and the affray degenerated into a conventional gambol and the attacks became caresses。 Suddenly; almost playfully; like one more bit of mischief; Amaranta ?rsula dropped her defense; and when she tried to recover; frightened by what she herself had made possible; it was too late。 A great motion immobilized her in her center of gravity; planted her in her place; and her defensive will was demolished by the irresistible anxiety to discover what the orange whistles and the invisible globes on the other side of death were like。 She barely had time to reach out her hand and grope for the towel to put a gag between her teeth so that she would not let out the cat howls that were already tearing at her insides。

Chapter 20
PILAR TERNERA died in her wicker rocking chair during one night of festivities as she watched over the entrance to her paradise。 In accordance with her last wishes she was not buried in a coffin but sitting in her rocker; which eight men lowered by ropes into a huge hole dug in the center of the dance floor。 The mulatto girls; dressed in black; pale from weeping; invented shadowy rites as they took off their earrings; brooches; and rings and threw them into the pit before it was closed over with a slab that bore neither name nor dates; and that was covered with a pile of Amazonian camellias。 After poisoning the animals they closed up the doors and windows with brick and mortar and they sca

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