Chapter 11
THE MARRIAGE was on the point of breaking up after two months because Aureli-ano Segun-do, in an attempt to placate Petra Cotes, had a picture taken of her dressed as the Queen of Madagascar. When Fernan-da found out about it she repacked her bridal trunks and left Macon-do without saying goodbye. Aureli-ano Segun-do caught up with her on the swamp road. After much pleading and promises of reform he succeeded in getting her to come home and he abandoned his concubine.
Petra Cotes, aware of her strength, showed no signs of worry. She had made a man of him. While he was still a child she had drawn him out of Melquíades' room, his head full of fantastic ideas and lacking any contact with reality, she had given him a place in the world. Nature had made reserved and withdrawn. with tendencies toward solitary meditation, and she had molded an opposite character in him, one that was vital, expansive, open, and she had injected him with a joy for living and a pleasure in spending and celebrating until she had converted him inside and out, into the man she had dreamed of for herself ever since adolescence. Then he married, as all sons marry sooner or later. He did not dare tell her the news. He assumed an attitude that was quite childish under the circumstances, feigning anger and imaginary resentment so that Petra Cotes would be the one who would bring about the break. One day, when Aureli-ano Segun-do reproached her unjustly, she eluded the trap and put things in their proper place.
"What it all means," she said, "is that you want to marry the queen."
Aureli-ano Segun-do, ashamed, pretended an attack of rage, said that he was misunderstood and abused, and did not visit her again. Petra Cotes, without losing her poise of a wild beast in repose for a single instant, heard the music and the fireworks from the wedding, the wild bustle of the celebration as if all of it were nothing but some new piece of mischief on the part of Aureli-ano Segun-do. Those who pitied her fate were calmed with a smile. "Don't worry," she told them. "Queens run errands for me." To a neighbor woman who brought her a set of candles so that she could light up the picture of her lost lover with them, she said with an enigmatic security:
"The only candle that will make him come is always lighted."
Just as she had foreseen, Aureli-ano Segun-do went back to her house as soon as the honeymoon was over. He brought his usual old friends, a traveling photographer, and the gown and ermine cape soiled with blood that Fernanda had worn during the carnival. In the heat of the merriment that broke out that evening, he had Petra Cotes dress up as queen, crowned her absolute and lifetime ruler of Madagascar, and handed out copies of the picture to his friends, she not only went along with the game, but she felt sorry for him inside, thinking that he must have been very frightened to have conceived of that extravagant means of reconciliation. At seven in the evening, still dressed as the queen, she received him in bed. He had been married scarcely two months, but she realized at once that things were not going well in the nuptial bed, and she had the delicious pleasure of vengeance fulfilled. Two days later, however, when he did not dare return but sent an intermediary to arrange the terms of the separation, she understood that she was going to need more patience than she had foreseen because he seemed ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of appearances. Nor did she get upset that time. Once again she made things easy with a submission that confirmed the generalized belief that she was a poor devil, and the only souvenir she kept of Aureli-ano Segun-do was a pair patent leather boots, which, according to what he himself had said, were the ones he wanted to wear in his coffin. She kept them wrapped in cloth in the bottom of a trunk and made ready to feed on memories, waiting without despair.
"He has to come sooner or later," she told herself, "even if it's just to put on those boots."
She did not have to wait as long as she had imagined. Actually, Aureli-ano Segun-do understood from the night of his wedding that he would return to the house of Petra Cotes much sooner than when he would have to put on the patent leather boots: Fernanda was a woman who was lost in the world. She had been born and raised in a city six hundred miles away, a gloomy city where on ghostly nights the coaches of the viceroys still rattled through the cobbled streets, Thirty-two belfries tolled a dirge at six in the afternoon. In the manor house, which was paved with tomblike slabs, the sun was never seen. The air had died in the cypresses in the courtyard, in the pale trappings of the bedrooms, in the dripping archways of the garden of perennials. Until puberty Fernanda had no news of the world except for the melancholy piano lessons taken in some neighboring house by someone who for years and years had the drive not to take a siesta. In the room of her sick mother, green and yellow under the powdery light from the windowpanes, she would listen to the methodical, stubborn, heartless scales and think that that music was in the world while she was being consumed as she wove funeral wreaths. Her mother, perspiring with five-o'clock fever, spoke to her of the splendor of the past. When she was a little girl, on one moonlit night Fernanda saw a beautiful woman dressed in white crossing the garden toward the chapel. What bothered her most about that fleeting vision was that she felt it was exactly like her, as if she had seen herself twenty years in advance. "It was your great-grandmother the queen," her mottold her during a truce in her coughing. "She died of some bad vapors while she was cutting a string of bulbs." Many years later, when she began to feel she was the equal of her great-grandmother, Fernanda doubted her childhood vision, but her mother scolded her disbelief.
"We are immensely rich and powerful," she told her. "One day you will be a queen."
She believed it, even though they were sitting at the long table with a linen tablecloth and silver service to have a cup of watered chocolate a sweet bun. Until the day of her wedding she dreamed about a legendary kingdom, in spite of the fact that her father, Don Fernando, had to mortgage the house in order to buy her trousseau. It was not innocence or delusions of grandeur. That was how they had brought her up. Since she had had the use of reason she remembered having done her duty in a gold pot with the family crest on it. She left the house for the first time at the age of twelve in a coach and horses that had to travel only two blocks to take her to the convent. Her classmates were surprised that she sat apart from them in a chair with a very high back and that she would not even mingle with them during recess. "She's different," the nuns would explain. "She's going to be a queen." Her schoolmates believed this because she was already the most beautiful, distinguished, discreet girl they had ever seen. At the end of eight years, after having learned to write Latin poetry, play the clavichord, talk about falconry with gentlemen and apologetics, with archbishops, discuss affairs of state with foreign rulers and affairs of God with the Pope, she returned to her parents' home to weave funeral wreaths. She found it despoiled. All that was left was the furniture that was absolutely necessary, the silver candelabra and table service, for the everyday utensils had been sold one by one to underwrite the costs of her education. Her mother had succumbed to five-o'clock fever. Her father, Don Fernando, dressed in black with a stiff collar and a gold watch chain, would give her a silver coin on Mondays for the household expenses, and the funeral wreaths finished the week before would be taken away. He spent most of his time shut up in his study and the few times that he went out he would return to recite the rosary with her. She had intimate friendships no one. She had never heard mention of the wars that were bleeding the country. She continued her piano lessons at three in the afternoon. She had even began to lose the illusion of being a queen when two peremptory raps of the knocker sounded at the door and she opened it to a well--groomed military officer with ceremonious manners who had a scar on his cheek and a gold medal on his chest. He closeted himself with her father in the study. Two hours later her father came to get her in the sewing room. "Get your things together," he told her. "You have to take a long trip." That was how they took her to Macon-do. In one single day, with a brutal slap, life threw on top of her the whole weight of a reality that her parents had kept hidden from her for many years. When she returned home she shut herself up in her room to weep, indifferent to Don Fernando's pleas and explanations as he tried to erase the scars of that strange joke. She had sworn to herself never to leave her bedroom until she died when Aureli-ano Segun-do came to get her. It was an act of impossible fate, because in the confusion of her indignation, in the fury of her shame, she had lied to him so that he would never know her real identity. The only real clues that Aureli-ano Segun-do had when he left to look for her were her unmistakable highland accent and her trade as a weaver of funeral wreaths. He searched for her without cease. With the fierce temerity with which José Arcadio Buendía had crossed the mountains to found Macon-do, with the blind pride with which Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía had undertaken his fruitless wars, with the mad tenacity with which úrsula watched over the survival of the line, Aureli-ano Segun-do looked for Fernanda, without a single moment of respite. When he asked where they sold funeral wreaths they took him from house to house so that he could choose the best ones. When he asked for the most beautiful woman who had ever been seen on this earth, all the women brought him their daughters. He became lost in misty byways, in times reserved for oblivion, in labyrinths of disappointment. He crossed a yellow plain where the echo repeated one's thoughts where anxiety brought on premonitory mirages. After sterile weeks he came to an unknown city where all the bells were tolling a dirge. Although he had never seen them and no one had ever described them to him he immediately recognized the walls eaten away by bone salt, the brokendown wooden balconies gutted by fungus, and nailed to the outside door, almost erased by rain, the saddest cardboard sign in the world: Funeral Wreaths for Sale. From that moment until the icy morning when Fernanda left her house under the care of the Mother Superior there was barely enough time for the nuns to sew her trousseau and in six trunks put the candelabra, the silver service, and the gold chamber-pot along with the countless and useless remains of a family catastrophe that had been two centuries late in its fulfillment. Don Fernando declined the invitation to go along. He promised to go later when he had cleared up his affairs, and from the moment when he gave his daughter his blessing he shut himself up in his study again to write out the announcements with mournful sketches and the family coat of arms, which would be the first human contact that Fernanda and her father would have had in all their lives. That was the real date of her birth for her. For Aureli-ano Segun-do it was almost simultaneously the beginning and the end of happiness.
Fernanda carried a delicate calendar with small golden keys on which her spiritual adviser had marked in purple ink the dates of venereal abstinence. Not counting Holy week, Sundays, holy days of obligation, first Fridays, retreats, sacrifices, and cyclical impediments, her effective year was reduced to forty-two days that were spread out through a web of purple crosses. Aureli-ano Segun-do, convinced that time would break up that hostile network, prolonged the wedding celebration beyond the expected time. Tired of throwing out so many empty brandy and champagne bottles so that they would not clutter up the house and at the same time intrigued by the fact that the newlyweds slept at different times and in separate rooms while the fireworks and music and the slaughtering of cattle went on, úrsula remembered her own experience and wondered whether Fer-nanda might have a chastity belt too which would sooner or later provoke jokes in the town and give rise to a tragedy. But Fernanda confessed to her that she was just letting two weeks go by before allowing the first contact with her husband. Indeed, when the period was over, she opened her bedroom with a resignation worthy of an expiatory victim and Aureli-ano Segun-do saw the most beautiful woman on earth, with her glorious eyes of a frightened animal and her long, copper-colored hair spread out across the pillow. He was so fascinated with that vision that it took him a moment to realize that Fernanda was wearing a white nightgown that reached down to her ankles, with long sleeves and with a large, round buttonhole, delicately trimmed, at the level of her lower stomach. Aureli-ano Segun-do could not suppress an explosion laughter.
"That's the most obscene thing I've ever seen in my life," he shouted with a laugh that rang through the house. "I married a Sister of Charity."
A month later, unsuccessful in getting his wife to take off her nightgown, he had the picture taken of Petra Cotes dressed as a queen. Later on, when he succeeded in getting Fernanda to come back home, she gave in to his urges in the fever of reconciliation, but she could not give him the repose he had dreamed about when he went to fetch her in the city with the thirty-two belfries. Aureli-ano Segun-do found only a deep feeling of desolation in her. One night, a short time before their first child was born, Fernanda realized that her husband had returned in secret to the bed of Petra Cotes.
"That's happened," he admitted. And he explained in a tone of prostrated resignation: "I had to do it so that the animals would keep on breeding."
He needed a little time to convince her about such a strange expedient, but when he finally did so by means of proofs that seemed irrefutable, the only promise that Fernanda demanded from him was that he should not be surprised by death in his concubine's bed. In that way the three them continued living without bothering each other. Aureli-ano Segun-do, punctual loving with both of them. Petra Cotes, strutting because of the reconciliation, and Fernanda, pretending that she did not know the truth.
The pact did not succeed, however, in incorporating Fernanda into the family. úrsula insisted in vain that she take off the woolen ruff which she would have on when she got up from making love and which made the neighbors whisper. She could not convince her to use the bathroom or the night lavatory and sell the gold chamberpot to Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía so that he could convert it into little fishes. Amaranta felt so uncomfortable with her defective diction and her habit of using euphemisms to designate everything that she would always speak gibberish in front her.
"Thifisif." she would say, "ifisif onefos ofosif thofosif whosufu cantantant statantand thefesef smufumellu ofosif therisir owfisown shifisifit."
One day, irritated by the mockery, Fernanda wanted to know what Amaranta was saying, and she did not use euphemisms in answering her.
"I was saying," she told her, "that you're one of those people who mix up their ass and their ashes."
From that time on they did not speak to each other again. When circumstances demanded it they would send notes. In spite of the visible hostility of the family, Fernanda did not give up her drive to impose the customs of her ancestors. She put an end to the custom of eating in the kitchen and whenever anyone was hungry, and she imposed the obligation of doing it at regular hours at the large table in the dining room, covered with a linen cloth and with silver candlesticks and table service. The solemnity of an act which úrsula had considered the most simple one of daily life created a tense atmosphere against which the silent José Arca-dio Segun-do rebelled before anyone else. But the custom was imposed, the same as that of reciting the rosary before dinner, and it drew the attention of the neighbors, who soon spread the rumor that the Buendías did not sit down to the table like other mortals but had changed the act of eating into a kind of high mass. Even úrsula's superstitions, with origins that came more from an inspiration of the moment than from tradition, came into conflict with those of Fernanda, who had inherited them from her parents and kept them defined and catalogued for every occasion. As long as úrsula had full use of her faculties some of the old customs survived and the life of the family kept some quality of her impulsiveness, but when she lost her sight and the weight of her years relegated her to a corner, the circle of rigidity begun by Fernanda from the moment she arrived finally closed completely and no one but she determined the destiny of the family. The business in pastries and small candy animals that Santa Sofía de la Piedad had kept up because of úrsula's wishes was considered an unworthy activity by Fernanda and she lost no time in putting a stop to it. The doors of the house, wide open from dawn until bedtime, were closed during siesta time under the pretext that the sun heated up the bedrooms and in the end they were closed for good. The aloe branch and loaf of bread that had been hanging over the door since the days of the founding were replaced by a niche with the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Colonel Aureli-ano, Buendía became aware somehow of those changes and foresaw their consequences. "We're becoming people of quality," he protested. "At this rate we'll end up fighting against the Conservative regime again, but this time to install a king in its place." Fernanda very tactfully tried not to cross his path. Within herself she was bothered by his independent spirit his resistance to all kinds of social rigidity. She was exasperated by his mugs coffee at five in the morning, the disorder of his workshop, his frayed blanket, and his custom of sitting in the street door at dusk. But she had to tolerate that one loose piece in the family machinery because she was sure that the old colonel was an animal who had been tamed by the years and by disappointment and who, in a burst senile rebellion, was quite capable of uprooting the foundations of the house. When her husband decided to give their first son the name of his great-grandfather, she did not dare oppose him because she had been there only a year. But when the first daughter was bom she expressed her unreserved determination to name her Renata after mother. úrsula had decided to call her Remedios. After a tense argument, in which Aureli-ano Segun-do acted as the laughing go-between, they baptized her with the name Renata Remedios, but Fernanda went on calling her just Renata while her husband's family and everyone in town called her Meme, a diminutive of Remedios.
At first Fernanda did not talk about her family, but in time she began to idealize her father. She spoke of him at the table as an exceptional being who had renounced all forms of vanity and was on his way to becoming a saint. Aureli-ano Segun-do, startled at that unbridled glorification his father-in-law, could not resist the temptation to make small jokes behind his wife's back. The rest of the family followed his example. Even úrsula, who was extremely careful to preserve family harmony and who suffered in secret from the domestic friction, once allowed herself the liberty of saying that her little great-great-grandson had his pontifical future assured because he was "the grandson of a saint and the son of a queen and a rustler." In spite of that conspiracy of smiles, the children became accustomed to think of their grandfather as a legendary being who wrote them pious verses in his letters and every Christmas sent them a box of gifts that barely fitted through the outside door. Actually they were the last remains of his lordly inheritance. They used them to build an altar of life-size saints in the children's bedroom, saints with glass eyes that gave them a disquietingly lifelike look, whose artistically embroidered clothing was better than that worn by any inhabitant Macon-do. Little by little the funereal splendor of the ancient and icy mansion was being transformed into the splendor of the House of Buendía. "They've already sent us the whole family cemetery," Aureli-ano Segun-do commented one day. "All we need now are the weeping willows and the tombstones." Although nothing ever arrived in the boxes that the children could play with, they would spend all year waiting for December because, after all, the antique always unpredictable gifts were something, new in the house. On the tenth Christmas, when little José Arcadio was getting ready to go to the seminary, the enormous box from their grandfather arrived earlier than usual, nailed tight and protected with pitch, and addressed in the usual Gothic letters to the Very Distinguished Lady Do?a Fernanda del Carpio de Buendía. While she read the letter in her room the children hastened to open the box. Aided as was customary by Aureli-ano Segun-do, they broke the seals, opened the cover, took out the protective sawdust, and found inside a long lead chest closed by copper bolts. Aureli-ano Segun-do took out the eight bolts as the children watched impatiently, and he barely had time to give a cry and push the children aside when be raised the lead cover and saw Don Fernando, dressed in black and with a crucifix on his chest, his skin broken out in pestilential sores and cooking slowly in a frothy stew with bubbles like live pearls.
"Now I'm convinced too late," he told him, "that I would have done you a great favor if I'd let them shoot you."
So the jubilee was celebrated without the attendance of any members of the family. Chance had it that it also coincided with carnival week, but no one could get the stubborn idea out of Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía's head that the coincidence had been foreseen by the government in order to heighten the cruelty of the mockery. From his lonely workshop he could hear the martial music, the artillery salutes, the tolling of the Te Deum, and a few phrases of the speeches delivered in front of the house as they named the street after him. His eyes grew moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time since his defeat it pained him not to have the strength of youth so that he could begin a bloody war that would wipe out the last vestiges of the Conservative regime. The echoes of the homage had not died down when úrsula knocked at the workshop door.
"Don't bother me," he said. "I'm busy."
"Open up," úrsula insisted in a normal voice. "This has nothing to do with the celebration."
Then Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía took down the bar and saw at the door seventeen men of the most varied appearance, of all types and colors, but all with a solitary air that would have been enough to identify them anywhere on earth. They were his sons. Without any previous agreement, without knowing each other, they had arrived from the most distant corners of the coast, captivated by the talk of the jubilee. They all bore with pride the name Aureli-ano and the last name of their mothers. The three days that they stayed in the house, to the satisfaction of úrsula and the scandal of Fernanda, were like a state war. Amaranta searched among old papers for the ledger where úrsula had written down the names and birth and baptism dates of all of them, and beside the space for each one she added his present address. That list could well have served as a recapitulation of twenty years of war. From it the nocturnal itinerary of the colonel from the dawn he left Macon-do at the head twenty-one men on his way to a fanciful rebellion until he returned for the last time wrapped in a blanket stiff with blood could have been reconstructed. Aureli-ano Segun-do did not let the chance go by to regale his cousins with a thunderous champagne and accordion party that was interpreted as a tardy adjustment of accounts with the carnival, which went awry because of the jubilee. They smashed half of the dishes, they destroyed the rose bushes as they chased a bull they were trying to hog-tie, they killed the hens by shooting them, they made Amaranta dance the sad waltzes of Pietro Crespi, they got Remedios the Beauty to put on a pair of men's pants and climb a greased pole, and in the dining room they turned loose a pig daubed with lard, which prostrated Fernanda, but no one regretted the destruction because the house shook with a healthy earthquake. Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía who at first received them with mistrust and even doubted the parentage of some, was amused by their wildness, and before they left he gave each one a little gold fish. Even the withdrawn José Arcadio Segun-do offered them an afternoon of cockfights, which was at the point of ending in tragedy because several of the Aureli-anos were so expert in matters of the cockpit that they spotted Father Antonio Isabel's tricks at once. Aureli-ano Segun-do, who saw the limitless prospect of wild times offered by those mad relatives, decided that they should all stay and work for him. The only one who accepted was Aureli-ano Triste, a big mulatto with the drive explorer's spirit of his grandfather. He had already tested his fortune in half the world and it did not matter to him where he stayed. The others, even though they were unmarried, considered their destinies established. They were all skillful craftsmen, the men of their houses, peace-loving people. The Ash Wednesday before they went back to scatter out along the coast, Amaranta got them to put on Sunday clothes and accompany her to church. More amused than devout, they let themselves be led to the altar rail where Father Antonio Isabel made the sign of the cross in ashes on them. Back at the house, when the youngest tried to clean his forehead, he discovered that the mark was indelible and so were those of his brothers. They tried soap and water, earth and a scrubbing brush, and lastly a pumice stone and lye, but they could not remove the crosses. On the other hand, Amaranta and the others who had gone to mass took it off without any trouble. "It's better that way," úrsula stated as she said goodbye to them. "From now on everyone will know who you are." They went off in a troop, preceded by a band of musicians and shooting off fireworks, and they left behind in the town an impression that the Buendía line had enough seed for many centuries. Aureli-ano Triste, with the cross of ashes on his forehead, set up on the edge of town the ice factory that José Arcadio Buendía had dreamed of in his inventive delirium.
Some months after his arrival, when he was already well-known and well-liked, Aureli-ano Triste went about looking for a house so that he could send for his mother and an unmarried sister (who was not the colonel's daughter), and he became interested in the run-down big house that looked abandoned on a corner of the square. He asked who owned it. Someone told him that it did not belong to anyone, that in former times a solitary widow who fed on earth whitewash from the walls had lived there, and that in her last years she was seen only twice on the street with a hat of tiny artificial flowers and shoes the color of old silver when she crossed the square to the post office to mail a letter to the Bishop. They told him that her only companion was a pitiless servant woman who killed dogs and cats and any animal that got into the house and threw their corpses into the middle of the street in order to annoy people the rotten stench. So much time had passed since the sun had mummified the empty skin of the last animal that everybody took it for granted that the lady of the house and the maid had died long before the wars were over, and that if the house was still standing it was because in recent years there had not been a rough winter or destructive wind. The hinges had crumbled with rust, the doors were held up only by clouds of cobwebs, the windows were soldered shut by dampness, and the floor was broken by grass and wildflowers and in the cracks lizards and all manner of vermin had their nests, all of which seemed to confirm the notion that there had not been a human being there for at least half a century. The impulsive Aureli-ano Triste did not need such proof to proceed. He pushed on the main door with his shoulder and the worm-eaten wooden frame fell down noiselessly amid a dull cataclysm of dust termite nests. Aureli-ano Triste stood on the threshold waiting for the dust to clear and then he saw in the center of the room the squalid woman, still dressed in clothing of the past century, with a few yellow threads on her bald head, and with two large eyes, still beautiful, in which the last stars of hope had gone out, and the skin face was wrinkled by the aridity of solitude. Shaken by that vision from another world, Aureli-ano Triste barely noticed that the woman was aiming an antiquated pistol at him.
"I beg your pardon," he murmured.
She remained motionless in the center of the room filled with knickknacks, examining inch by inch the giant with square shoulders and with a tattoo of ashes on his forehead, and through the haze of dust she saw him in the haze of other times with a double-barreled shotgun on his shoulder and a string of rabbits in his hand.
"For the love of God," she said in a low voice, it's not right for them to come to me with that memory now."
"I want to rent the house," Aureli-ano Triste said.
The woman then raised the pistol, aiming with a firm wrist at the cross of ashes, and she held the trigger with a determination against which there was no appeal.
"Get out," she ordered.
That night at dinner Aureli-ano Triste told the family about the episode and úrsula wept with consternation. "Holy God!" she exclaimed, clutching her head with her hands. "She's still alive!" Time, wars, the countless everyday disasters had made her forget about Rebeca. The only one who had not lost for a single minute the awareness that she was alive and rotting in her wormhole was the implacable and aging Amaranta. She thought of her at dawn, when the ice of her heart awakened her in her solitary bed, and she thought of her when she soaped her withered breasts and her lean stomach, and when she put on the white stiff-starched petticoats and corsets of old age, and when she changed the black bandage of terrible expiation on her hand. -Always, at every moment, asleep and awake, during the most sublime and most abject moments, Amaranta thought about Rebeca, because solitude had made a selection in her memory and had burned the dimming piles of nostalgic waste that life had accumulated in her heart, and had purified, magnified and eternalized the others, the most bitter ones. Remedios the Beauty knew about Rebeca's existence from her. Every time they passed the run-down house she would tell her about an unpleasant incident, a tale of hate, trying in that way to make her extended rancor be shared by her niece and consequently prolonged beyond death, but her plan did not work because Remedios was immune to any kind of passionate feelings and much less to those of others. úrsula, on the other hand, who had suffered through a process opposite to Amaranta's, recalled Rebeca with a memory free of impurities, for the image of the pitiful child brought to the house with the bag containing her parents' bones prevailed over the offense that had made her unworthy to be connected to the family tree any longer. Aureli-ano Segun-do decided that they would have to bring her to the house and take care of her, but his good intentions were frustrated by the firm intransigence of Rebeca, who had needed many years suffering and misery in order to attain the privileges of solitude and who was not disposed to renounce them in exchange for an old age disturbed by the false attractions of charity.
In February, when the sixteen sons of Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía returned, still marked with the cross of ashes, Aureli-ano Triste spoke to them about Rebeca in the tumult of the celebration and in half a day they restored the appearance of the house, changing doors and windows, painting the front with gay colors, bracing walls and pouring fresh cement on the floor, but they could not get any authorization to continue the work inside. Rebeca did not even come to the door. She let them finish the mad restoration, then calculated what it had cost and sent Argénida, her old servant who was still with her, to them with a handful of coins that had been withdrawn from circulation after the last war and that Rebeca thought were still worth something it was then that they saw to what a fantastic point her separation from the world had arrived and they understood that it would be impossible to rescue her from her stubborn enclosure while she still had a breath of life in her.
"It's coming," she finally explained. "Something frightful, like a kitchen dragging a village behind it."
At that moment the town was shaken by a whistle with a fearful echo and a loud, panting respiration. During the previous weeks they had seen the gangs who were laying ties and tracks and no one paid attention to them because they thought it was some new trick of the gypsies, coming back with whistles and tambourines and their age-old and discredited song and dance about the qualities of some concoction put together by journey-man geniuses of Jerusalem. But when they recovered from the noise of the whistles and the snorting, all the inhabitants ran out into the street and saw Aureli-ano Triste waving from the locomotive, and in a trance they saw the flower-bedecked train which was arriving for the first time eight months late. The innocent yellow train that was to bring so many ambiguities and certainties, so many pleasant and unpleasant moments, so many changes, calamities, and feelings nostalgia to Ma-condo.
过了两个月，他俩的夫妻关系几乎完结，因为奥雷连诺第二为了安慰佩特娜·柯特，给她拍了一张穿着马达加斯加女工服装的照片。菲兰达知道这桩事情以后，把自己的嫁妆放同箱子，没跟任何人告别一声，就离开了马孔多。经过长时间卑躬屈节的央求，奥雷连诺第二答应改正错误，才把妻子请回家里，于是又和情妇分手了。
佩特娜.柯特相信自己的力量，没有表露任何忧虑。因为奥雷连诺第二是靠她成为男子汉大丈夫的。她把他弄出梅尔枷德斯的卧室时，他还是个小孩子，跟现实生活没有接触，满脑子幻想，是她使他在世上订一席之地的。他生来沉默、孤僻，喜欢独个儿冥思苦想，而她却使他形成了完全相反的性格：活泼开朗，容易与人接近：她使他有了生活乐趣，让他养成了寻欢作乐和挥霍无度的习惯，终于把他彻底地变成了她从少女时代就幻想的男人。后来他结婚了——凡是男人迟早都要结婚嘛。他很久都不敢把他准备结婚的事告诉她。在这桩事儿上，他的作法完全象个孩子：他经常冤枉地指责她，想些话来气她，希望她自己跟他决裂。有一天，奥雷连诺第二又不公正地责备她时，她绕过了他的圈套，作了恰当的回答。
“把事儿说穿吧，”佩特娜·柯特说，“你想跟女王结婚。”
奥雷连诺第二假装恼怒，说他受到了误解和冤枉，就不再来她家里了。佩特娜·柯特一刻也没失去野兽休息时的那种平静，听着传到她耳里的婚宴上的乐曲声、铜号声和发狂的喧声，仿佛这一切不过是奥雷连诺第二又一次的瞎胡闹罢了。有人对她表示同情，她却泰然自若地微笑作答。“甭担心，”她向他们说。“女王是听我指挥的。”有个女邻居劝她在失去的情人像前点起蜡烛祈祷，她却自信而神秘地说：
“让他回来的那支蜡烛，是永远不熄灭的。”
正如她的预料，蜜月一过，奥雷连诺第二就回到了她的家里，他领来了他的一些老朋友和一位巡回摄影师，还带来了菲兰达在狂欢节穿的衣服和血污的貂皮斗篷。在酒宴的欢声中，奥雷连诺第二把佩特娜·柯特打扮成女王，宣布她为马达加斯加唯一的终身统治者，给她拍了照，并且把照片赠给了一伙朋友。佩特娜·柯特不仅立即同意参加这场游戏，而且衷心怜悯自己的情人，觉得他想出这种不太寻常的和解方式，一定费了不少脑筋。晚上七点，她仍然穿着女王的衣服，把奥雷连诺第二接上了床。他结婚还不到两个月，可是佩特娜.柯特立即发觉，他的夫妻生活过得并不美满，于是她感到了报复以后的一种酣畅。然而，两天以后，奥雷连诺第二不敢亲自前来，只派了一个中间人来，跟她商谈他俩分离的条件，这时佩特娜.柯特明白自己需要的耐心比预料的更大了，因为她的情人似乎准备为了面子而牺牲她。然而，即使这个时候，佩特娜.柯特也没改变自己的平静样儿。她满足奥雷连诺第二期望的屈从态度，只是证实了大家对她的认识：她是一个值得同情的、可怜的女人。她留作纪念的只有情人的一双漆皮鞋——照他自己的说法，他是打算穿着它躺进棺材的。佩特娜.柯特拿破布把皮鞋包上，放进箱子，就准备耐心等待了。
“他迟早准会回来的，”她向自己说，“哪怕为了穿这双皮鞋。”
她并没有象她预料的等候那么长久。其实，奥雷连诺第二新婚之夜就已明白，他回到佩特娜·柯特身边会比穿漆皮鞋的需要早得多：问题在于菲兰达不象是这个世界的女人。她生长在离海一千公里的一座阴暗城市里，在幽灵徘徊的黑夜，还可听见总督的四轮马车辚辚地驶过鹅卵石街道。每天傍晚六时。这座城市的三十二个钟楼都响起了凄凉的丧钟。在一幢墓碑式的石板砌成的庄园房子里，是从来透不进阳光的。庭院中的柏树，花园中滴水的晚香玉拱顶，卧室中褪了色的窗帷，都发出死沉沉的气息。直到少女时代，从外界传到菲兰达耳里的，只有邻家悒郁的钢琴声，那儿不知什么人总是年复一年、日复一日地自愿放弃午睡的乐趣。母亲躺卧病榻，在彩绘玻璃透进的灰扑扑的阳光下，她的面孔显得又黄又绿；菲兰达坐在母亲床边，听着和谐的、顽强的、勾起愁思的乐曲，以为这乐曲是从遥远的世界传来的，而她却在这儿疲惫地编织花圈。母亲在寒热病再次发作之后已经满身是汗，仍然向她讲了她们家昔日的显赫。菲兰达还完全是个小姑娘的时候，在一个月白风清的夜晚，她看见一个漂亮的白衣女人穿过花园向教堂走去。这个瞬间的幻象特别使她心潮激荡，因为她突然觉得自己完全象是这个陌生女人，仿佛这个女人就是她自己，只是在二十年后。“这是你的曾祖母——女王，”母亲向她解释，一面咳嗽一面说。“她是在花园里修剪晚香玉时被它的气味毒死的。”多年以后，菲兰达重新感到自己很象曾祖母时，却怀疑童年时代的幻象，可是母亲责备她的多疑。
“我们的财富和权势是无比的，”母亲说。“总有一天，你也会成为女王。”
菲兰达相信她的说法，虽然她们坐在铺着亚麻布桌布、摆着银制餐具的长桌旁边，可是每人通常只有一杯巧克力茶和一个甜面包。菲兰达直到结婚之日都在幻想传奇的王国，尽管她的父亲唐（注：西班牙人用的尊称，含义为先生）.菲兰达为了给她购置嫁妆，不得不把房子抵押出去。这种幻想不是由于天真或者狂妄产生的，而是由于家庭教育。从菲兰达记事的时候起，她就经常在刻着家徽的金便盆里撒尿。满十二岁时，她第一次离家去修道院学校上学，家里的人竟让她坐上一辆轻便马车，虽然距离只有两个街区。班上的同学觉得奇怪的是，她独个儿坐在一把远离大家的高背椅子上，甚至课间休息时也不跟大家在一起。“她跟你们不同，”一个修女向她们解释。“她会成为一个女王。”她的女同学们相信这一点，因为当时她已经是个最美丽、最高贵、最文雅的姑娘，是她们从来没有见过的。过了八年，她已学会：写拉丁文诗歌，弹旧式钢琴，跟绅士们谈论鹰猎，跟大主教畅谈护教学（注：基督教神学的一个部门）跟外国执政者议论国务，跟教皇讨论宗教事务；然后回到父母家中，重新开始编织花圈。她发现家中已经空空如也。房子里只剩下最必要的家具、枝形烛台和银制餐具，其余的东西都已逐渐卖掉——因为需要为她缴纳学费。她的母亲已经患寒热病死了。
父亲唐.菲兰达穿着硬领黑衣服，胸前挂着金表链，每星期一都给她一枚银币作为家庭开销，把她在一星期中编织的花圈带走。大多数日子他都关在书房里，偶尔进城，总在六时以前赶回家中，跟女儿一起祈祷。菲兰达从来不跟任何人交往，从没听说国家正在经历流血的战争，从没停止倾听每天的钢琴声。她已经失去了成为女王的希望，有一天忽然听到有人在门坏上急促地敲了两下：菲兰达给一个穿著考究的军官开了门；这人恭恭敬敬，脸颊上有一块伤疤，胸前有一块金质奖章。他和她父亲在书房里呆了一阵。过了两小时，唐·菲兰达就到她的房间里来了。“准备吧，”他说。 “你得去作远途旅行啦。”他们就这样把她送到了马孔多；在那儿，她一下子碰到了她的父母向她隐瞒了多年的严酷的现实。从那儿回家以后，她呆在自己的房间里哭了半天，不顾唐·菲兰达的恳求和解释，因为他想医治空前的侮辱给她的心灵造成的创伤。菲兰达已经决定至死不离自己的卧室，奥雷连诺第二却来找她了。他大概运气好，因为菲兰达在羞恼之中，为了使他永不可能知道她的真正身份，是向他撒了谎的。奥雷连诺第二去寻找她的时候，仅仅掌握了两个可靠的特征：她那山地人的特殊口音和编织花圈的职业。他毫不惜力地寻找她，一分钟也不泄气地寻找她，象霍·阿·布恩蓓亚翻过山岭、建立马孔多村那么蛮勇，象奥雷连诺上校进行无益的战争那么盲目骄傲，象乌苏娜争取本族的生存那么顽强。他向人家打听哪几出售花圈，人家就领着他从一个店铺到另一个店铺，让他能够挑选最好的花圈。他向人家打听哪儿有世间最美的女人，所有的母亲都带他去见自己的女儿。他在雾茫茫的峡谷里游荡，在往事的禁区里徘徊，在绝望的迷宫里摸索。他经过黄橙橙的沙漠，那里的回声重复了他的思想，焦急的心情产生了幢幢幻象。经过几个星期毫无结果的寻找，他到了一座陌生的城市，那里所有的钟都在敲着丧钟。尽管他从没见过这些钟，根本没有听到过它们的声音，但他立即认出了北风侵蚀的墙垣、腐朽发黑的木阳台、门上钉着的一块纸板，纸板上写着几乎被雨水冲掉的、世上最凄凉的字儿：”出售花圈。”从这一时刻起，直到菲兰达在女修道院长照顾下永远离开家庭的那个冰冷的早晨，相隔的时间很短，修女们好不容易给菲兰达缝好了嫁妆，用六口箱子装上了枝形烛台、银质餐具、金便盆，此外还有长达两个世纪的家庭灾难中留下的许多废物。唐·菲兰达拒绝了陪送女儿的建议，他答应，偿清了一切债务，稍抠一些就去马孔多；于是，给女儿祝福之后，他马上又关在书房里了，后来，他从书房里给她寄去一封封短信，信纸上有惨淡的小花饰和族徽——这些信函建立了父女之间的某种精神联系。对菲兰达来说，离家的日子成了她真正诞生的日子。对奥音连诺第二来说，这一天几乎同时成了他幸福的开端和结束。菲兰达带来了一份印有金色小花朵的日历，她的忏悔神父在日历里用紫色墨水标明了夫妻同床的禁忌日子。除了圣洁周（注：复活节前的一周年）、礼拜日、每月第一个星期五、弥撒日、斋戒日、祭祀日以及患病的日子，在蛛网一般的紫色××中，一年只剩四十二夭有用的日子了，奥雷连诺第二相信时间能够破坏这种蛛网，就不顾规矩延长婚期。香摈酒和白兰地酒空瓶子是那么多，乌苏娜为了不让它们堆满屋子，不得不没完没了地往外扔，搞得厌烦极了，但她同时觉得奇怪，新婚夫妇总在不同的时刻和不同的房间睡觉，而鞭炮声禾口乐曲声却没停息，杀猪宰羊仍在继续，于是她就想起了自己的经验，询问菲兰达是否也有“贞洁裤”，因为它迟早会在镇上引起笑话，造成悲剧。然而菲兰达表示，她只等待婚礼过了两周就跟大夫第一次同寝。的确，这个期限一过，她就打开了自己的卧室门，准备成为赎罪的牺牲品了，奥雷连诺第二也就看见了世间最美的女人，她那明亮的眼睛活象惊恐的扁角鹿，铜色的长发披散在枕头上。奥雷连诺第二被这种景象弄得神魂颠倒，过了一会才发现，菲兰达穿着一件长及脚踝的白色睡衣，袖子颇长，跟肚腹下部一般高的地方，有一个纱得十分精巧的又大又圆的窟窿。奥雷连诺第二忍不住哈哈大笑。
“这是我生乎见到的最讨厌的玩意儿了，”他的笑声响彻了整座房子。“我娶了个修女啦。”
过了一个月，始终未能让妻子脱掉她的睡衣，他就去给佩特娜·柯特拍摄穿着女王服装的照片。后来，他把菲兰达弄回了家，她在和解的热情下服从了他的欲望，可是未能给他满足，他前往三十二座钟楼的城市寻找她的时候，是梦想这种满足的。奥雷连诺第二在她身上只感到深切的失望。在他俩的头生子出世之前不久，有一天夜里，菲兰达已经明白大夫瞒着她回到佩特娜·柯特怀里去了。
“正是这样，”他承认，然后用无可奈何的屈从口吻解释：“为了让牲畜继续繁殖，我必须那么干。”
当然，她是过了一会儿才相信这种古怪解释的；可是，奥雷连诺第二向她提出似乎无可辩驳的证据，终于达到自己的目的时，菲兰达只求他答应一点：别让自己死在情人床上。他们三人就这样继续过活，互不干扰。奥雷连诺第二对两个女人都很殷勤、温存，佩特娜·柯特庆幸自己的胜利，而菲兰达则假装不知道真情。
不过，菲兰达虽和大夫达成了协议，却跟布恩蒂亚家中其余的人始终找不到共同语言。每一次，如果夜间和丈夫同了床，早晨她总是穿上一件黑色毛衣，乌苏娜要她把它脱掉，也投做到。这件毛衣已经引起邻人的窃窃私语。乌苏娜要她使用浴室和厕所，劝她把金便盆卖给奥雷连诺上校去做金鱼，她也不干，她那不正确的发音和说话婉转的习惯，使得阿玛兰塔感到很不舒服，阿玛兰塔经常在她面前瞎说一通。
“Thifislf，”阿玛兰塔说， “ifisif onefos ofosif thofosif whosufu cantantant statantand thefesef smufumellu ofosif therisir owfisown shifisifit．”
有一次，菲兰达被这种显然的愚弄惹恼了，就问这些莫名其妙的话是什么意思，阿玛兰塔毫不委婉地回答：
“我说，你是一个把情欲和斋戒混在一起的人。”
从那一天起，她俩彼此就不说话了。如果有什么非谈不可，两人就写字条，或者通过中间人。菲兰达不顾丈夫的家庭对她显然的敌视，仍想让布恩蒂亚一家人接受她的祖先那些高尚的凤习。这家人本来有个习惯，无论谁饿了，就到厨房里去吃饭，菲兰达却让大家结束这个习惯，按照严格规定的时间在饭厅里的大桌上用餐；桌子铺上雪白的桌布，摆上枝形烛台和银质餐具。乌苏娜一直认为，吃饭是日常生活中一件最简单的事儿，现在竟变成了隆重的仪式，出现了难以忍受的紧张空气，甚至沉默寡言的霍。阿卡蒂奥第二首先起来反对。然而，新的秩序取得了胜利，就象另一个新办法——晚饭之前必须祈祷——一样；这些都引起了左邻右舍的注意，很快就在传说，布恩蒂亚一家人不象其他凡人那样坐在桌边吃饭，而把进餐变成了一种祈祷仪式。乌苏娜灵机一动产生的、并非传统的迷信，甚至也跟菲兰达从父母那儿继承下来的迷信发生了矛盾——在任何情况下，这种迷信都是永远不变的、硬性规定的。乌苏娜迹能充分运用自己的五种感觉时，一切旧的习惯仍然如昔，家庭生活仍旧受到她的决定性影响：但她也丧失了视觉，过高的年岁使她不得不摆脱家庭事务的时候，菲兰达来到了这儿，在这房子周围竖立了森严的壁垒，那就只有她能决定家庭的命运了。按照鸟苏娜的愿望，圣索菲娅·德拉佩德是在继续经营糖果点心和糖动物生意的，菲兰达却认为这是一种不体面的事情，毫不迟疑就把它结束了。往常从早到晚敞开的房门，借口太阳晒得卧空太热，首先在个休时关上了，最后就永远关上了。马孔多村建立时挂在门媚上的一束芦荟和稻穗，换成了一个壁龛，里面供本着耶稣的心脏。奥雷连诺上校看见这些变化，就预见到了它们的后果。“咱们正在变成贵族，”他断定说。“这样，咱们又要对保守党政府发动战争啦，但这一次只是用一个国王来代替它。”菲兰达很有分寸地竭力避免跟他发生冲突。他保持独立自主的精神，他反对她那些死板的规矩，当然使她心中恼火。由于他每天清晨五点的一杯咖啡，由于作坊里一团杂乱，由于他那磨出窟窿的斗篷，由于他每天傍晚坐在临街门前的习惯，她简直气极了。可是，菲兰达不得不容忍家庭机器上这个松了的零件，因为她心里明白，老上校是一只被年岁和绝望制服了的野兽，一旦兽性发作，完全能够彻底摧毁房屋的根基。她的丈夫希望他俩的头生子取曾祖父的名字时，她还不敢反对，因为她那时在这个家庭里才生活了一年。但是，他俩的第一个女儿出世时，菲兰达就直截了当他说要把女儿取名叫雷纳塔，借以纪念自己的母亲。乌苏娜却决定把这小女儿叫做雷麦黛丝。在激烈的争辩中，奥雷连诺第二扮演了一个滑稽可笑的中间人，最后才把女儿叫做雷纳塔·雷麦黛丝。可是母亲叫她雷纳塔，其余的人则叫她梅梅——雷麦黛丝的爱称。
最初，菲兰达缄口不提自己的父母，但她后来开始塑造了父亲的理想化的形象，在饭厅里，她不时谈到他，把池描绘成独特的人物，说他放弃了尘世的虚荣，正在逐渐变成一个圣徒。奥雷连诺第二听到妻子无限美化他的岳父，耐不住在她背后来个小动作，开开玩笑。其余的人也仿效他的样子。即使乌苏娜热心维护家庭的和睦，对家庭纠葛暗中感到痛苦，但她有一次也说她的玄孙会当上教皇，因为他是“圣徒的外孙，女玉和窃贼的儿子。”尽管大家诡橘地讥笑，奥雷连诺第二的孩子们仍然惯于把他们的外祖父想象成一个传奇式的人物，他常在给他们的信里写上几句虏诚的诗，而且每逢圣诞节都给他们捎来一箱礼品，箱子挺大，勉强才能搬进房门。其实，唐.菲兰达怯给外孙们的是他的家产中最后剩下的东西。在孩子们的卧室里，用这些东西塔了一个圣坛，圣坛上有等身圣像，玻璃眼睛使得这些圣像栩栩如生，有点吓人，而圣像身上绣得十分精雅的衣服比马孔多任何居民的衣服都好。古老、阴森的宫邱中陪葬品似的堂皇设备，逐渐移到了布恩蒂亚家敞亮的房子里。“他们把整个家族墓地都送给咱们啦，”奥雷连诺第二有一回说。：‘缺少的只是垂柳和墓碑。”尽管外祖父的箱子里从来没有什么可以玩耍的东西，孩子们却整年都在急切地等待十二月的来临，因为那些经常料想不到的老古董毕竟丰富了他们的生活。在第十个圣诞节，年轻的霍。阿卡蒂奥正准备去进神学院的时候，外祖父的一口大箱子就比往常更早地到达了；这口箱子钉得很牢，接缝的地方抹上了防潮树脂；哥特字写的收件人姓名是菲兰达·德卡皮奥太太。菲兰达在卧室里读信的时候，孩子们慌忙打开箱了。协助他们的照例是奥雷连诺第二。他们刮去树脂。拔掉钉子，取掉一层防护的锯屑，发现了一只用铜螺钉旋紧的长箱子，旋掉了全部六颗螺钉、奥雷连诺第二惊叫一声，几乎来不及把孩子们推开，因为在揭开的铅盖下面，他看见了唐·菲兰达。唐·菲兰达身穿黑色衣服，胸前有一个那稣蒙难像，他焖在滚冒泡的蛆水里，皮肤咋嚓嚓地裂开，发出一股恶臭。
雷纳塔出生之后不久，因为尼兰德停战协定的又一个周年纪念，政府突然命令为奥雷连诺上校举行庆祝会。这样的决定跟政府的政策是不一致的，上校毫不犹豫地反对它，拒绝参加庆祝仪式。“我第一次听到‘庆祝’这个词儿，”他说。“但不管它的含义如何，这显然是个骗局。”狭窄的首饰作坊里挤满了各式各样的使者。以前象鸟鸦一样在上校周围打转的那些律师又来了，他们穿着黑色礼服，比以前老得多、庄严得多。上校见到他们，就想起他们为了结束战争而来找他的那个时候，简直无法忍受他们那种无耻的吹棒。他要他们别打扰他，说他不是他们所谓的民族英雄，而是一个失去记忆的普通手艺人，他唯一希望的是被人忘却，穷困度日，在自己的金鱼中间劳累至死。最使他气愤的是这么一个消息：共和国总统准备亲临马孔多的庆祝会，想要授予他荣誉勋章。奥雷连诺上校叫人一字不差地转告总统：他正在急切地等待这种姗姗来迟的机会，好把一粒子弹射进总统的脑门——这不是为了惩罚政府的专横暴戾，而是为了惩罚他不尊重一个无害于人的老头儿。他的恐吓是那么厉害，以致共和国总统在最后一分钟取消了旅行，派私人代表给他送来了勋章。格林列尔多·马克斯上校在备种压力的包围下，离开了他的病榻，希望说服老战友。奥雷连诺上校看见四人抬着的摇椅和坐在摇椅大垫子上的老朋友时，他一分钟也没怀疑，青年时代就跟他共尝胜败苦乐的格林列尔多·马克斯上校克服了自己的疾病，唯一的目的就是支持他作出的决定。但他知道了来访的真实原因之后，就叫来人把摇椅和格林列尔乡·马克斯上校一起抬出作坊。
“现在我认识得太迟了，”他向格林列尔多·马克斯说。“当初如果我让他们枪毙了你，就是为你做了一件天大的好事。”
就这样，庆祝会举行的时候，布恩蒂亚家没有任何人参加。庆祝会和狂欢节相遇是十分偶然的，可是谁也无法排除奥雷连诺上校脑海里的执拗想法，他认为这种巧合也是政府的预谋，目的是加重对他的奚落。在僻静的作坊里，他听到了军乐声、礼炮声和钟声，也听到了房子前面片断的演说声，因为人家正以他的名字给街道命名，面发表一通演说。奥雷连诺上校气得没有办法，眼里噙满了泪水，自从失败以来，他第一次感到遗憾的是，他已没有青年时代的勇气，去发动流血的战争，消灭保守制度最后的遗迹。庆祝的喧闹还没停息，乌苏娜就来敲作坊的门。
“别打扰我，”他说。“我正忙着咧。”
“开门，”乌苏娜的声音听起来挺平静。“这跟庆祝会没啥关系。”
于是，奥雷连诺上校挪开门闩，使看见了十六个男人，面貌、体型和肤色各不相同，但是都有一副孤僻模样儿；根据这模样儿，在地球上任何地方都能马上认出他们的身份。这些人都是他的儿子。他们是被庆祝会的传闻吸引来的，来自沿海地带最遥远的角落，事先并没有彼此商量，甚至互相还不认识。他们全都自豪地取了“奥雷连诺”这个名字，加上自己母亲的姓，新来的人使乌苏娜高兴，却叫菲兰达恼怒，他们在这座房子里度过的三天中，把一切翻了个底儿朝天，仿佛这里发生了一场大战，阿玛兰塔在旧纸堆里找到了一个笔记本儿，乌苏娜曾在里面记下了这些人的名字。生日、洗礼日以及住址。借助这份名册，可以忆起二十年战争，从这份册子上，可以知道上校长时期的生活：从那天早晨他率领二十个人离开马孔多人追踪起义的怪影起，到他裹着凝血的毛毯最后口到家里为止。奥雷连诺第二没有放过机会用香摈酒和字风琴热烈欢迎亲戚们，这个欢迎会可以说是对那个倒霉狂欢节的回答。客人们把家中一半的盘碟变成了碎片；他们追赶一头公牛，打算缚住它的腿时，又把玫瑰花丛踩坏了，并且开枪打死了所有的母鸡，强迫阿玛兰塔跳皮埃侍罗。克列斯比悒郁的华尔兹舞，要俏姑娘雷麦黛丝穿上男人的短裤衩，爬上一根抹了油脂的竿子，甚至把一只肮脏的猪放进饭厅，绊倒了菲兰达；然而，谁也没有抱怨这些破坏，因为颠覆整座房子的地震是能治病的，奥雷连诺上校最初不信任地接待他的一群儿子，甚至怀疑其中几个的出身，但对他们的怪诞行为感到开心，在他们离开之前，给了每人一条小金鱼。孤僻的霍.阿卡蒂奥第二却邀请他们参加斗鸡，结果几乎酿成悲剧，因为许多奥雷连诺都是斗鸡的行家，马上就识破了安东尼奥·伊萨贝尔神父的欺骗勾当。奥雷连诺第二看出，亲戚众多，大可欢宴取乐，就建议他们留下来跟他一块儿干活，接受这个建议的只有奥雷连诺·特里斯特一人，他是一个身躯高大的混血儿，具有祖父那样的毅力和探索精神；他曾游历半个世界寻求幸福，住在哪儿都是无所谓的。其他的奥雷连诺虽然还没结婚，但都认为自己的命运已经注定。他们都是能工巧匠、家庭主角、爱好和平的人。星期三，大斋的前一天，上校的儿子们重新分散到沿海各地去之前，阿玛兰塔要他们穿上礼拜日的衣服，跟她一块儿到教堂去。他们多半由干好玩，不是因为笃信宗教，给带到了圣坛栏杆跟前，安东尼奥·伊萨贝尔神父在每人额上用圣灰画了个十字。回家之后，其中最小的一个打算擦掉十字，可是发现额上的记号是擦不掉的，就象其他兄弟额上的记号一样。他们使用了冷水和肥皂、沙子和擦刷、浮石和碱水，始终消灭不了额上的十字。相反地，阿玛兰塔和教堂里其余的人，毫不费劲就把自己的十字擦掉了。 “那样更好嘛，”乌苏娜跟他们分别时说。“从现在起，每一个人都能知道你们是谁了，”他们结队离开，前面是奏乐的，并且放鞭炮，给全镇留下一个印象，仿佛布恩蒂亚家族拥有足以延续许多世纪的后代。奥雷连诺·特里斯特在镇郊建了一座冰厂，这是发疯的发明家霍·阿.布思蒂亚梦想过的。
奥雷连诺·特里斯特来到马孔多之后几个月，大家都已认识他、喜欢他，他就在镇上到处寻找合适的住所，想把母亲和一个没有结婚的妹妹（她不是上校的女儿）接来；他感到兴趣的是广场角落上一间不合格局的破旧大房子，这房子好象无人居住。他打听谁是房子的主人，有人告诉他说：这房子是不属于任何人的，从前住在里面的是个孤零零的寡妇，用泥土和墙上的石灰充饥，在她死前的最后几年，有人在街上只见过她两次，她戴了一顶别着小朵假花的帽子，穿了一双旧式银色鞋子，经过广场，到邮局上给一个主教寄信。奥雷连诺.特里斯特打听出来，跟寡妇住在一起的只有一个冷酷的女仆，这女仆杀死钻到房里的狗、猫和一切牲畜，把它们的尸体扔到衔上，让全镇的人都闻到腐臭气味。自从太阳把她扔出的最后一个尸体变成了干尸，已过了那么多的时间，以致大家相信：女主人和女仆在战争结束之前很久就死了，如果说房子还立在那儿，那只是因为早已没有严峻的冬天和暴风。门上的铰链已经锈蚀，房门仿佛是靠蛛网系住的，窗框由于潮湿而膨胀了，长廊洋灰地面的裂缝里长出了杂草和野花，晰蝎和各种虫十爬来爬去 ——一切都似乎证明这儿起码五十年没有住人了。其实，性急的奥雷连诺.特里斯特无需这么多的证明就会钻进屋子去的。他用肩膀把大门一推，一根朽木就无声地掉到他的脚边,随着塌下的是一团尘土和白蚁窝。奥雷连诺·特里斯特停在门槛边，等待尘雾散去，接着便在屋子中央看见一个极度衰竭的女人，仍穿着前一世纪的衣服，秃头上有几根黄发，眼睛依然漂亮，但是最后一点希望的火星已经熄灭，由于孤独的生活，她的脸上已经布满了皱纹。
看见另一个世界的这种幻影，奥雷连诺·特里斯特异常惊愕，好不容易才看出这女人正拿一支旧式手枪瞄准他。
“请您原谅，”他低声说。
她仍然纹丝不动地站在堆满了破旧东西的房间当中，仔细地审视这个肩膀宽阔、额上划了十字的大汉，透过一片尘雾，她看见他立在昔日的迷雾里：背上挎着一杆双筒枪，手里拎着一串兔子。
“不，看在上帝面上，”她用嘶哑的声音说。“现在让我回忆过去的事就太残酷啦。”
“我想租一间房子，”奥雷连诺·特里斯特说。
于是，妇人重新举起手枪，稳稳地对准他的灰十字，毅然决然地扣住扳机。
“滚出去！”她命令道。
傍晚，吃晚饭时，奥雷连诺·特里斯特把这桩事情告诉家里的人，乌苏娜惊骇地哭了，“天啊，”她抓住脑袋，叫道。“她还活着！”
时光，战争，日常的许多灾难，使她忘记了雷贝卡