百年孤独这本书怎么样 世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第10章Part 6

世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第10章Part 6  

That was what happened. úrsula 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 life-sized 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
úrsula 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
úrsula 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 úrsula such consternation
were monplace in those days. Macon-do 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 The adobe houses of the founders had been replaced by brick buildings with wooden blinds and cement floors which made the suffocating heat of o o'clock in the afternoon more bearable. All that remained at that time of José 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 José Arcadio Segun-do when he set about opening the channel in order to establish a boat line. It was a mad dream
parable to those of his great-grandfather
for the rocky riverbed and the numerous rapids prevented navigation from Macon-do to the sea. But José Arcadio Segun-do
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. úrsula 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 Aureli-ano 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 José Arcadio Segun-do. 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 water-falls. "I know all of this by heart
" úrsula 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
José Arcadio Segun-do 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 Macon-do
who no longer remembered the colossal undertakings of José 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 enty men who walked along the bank. In the prow
with a glow of satisfaction in his eyes
José Arcadio Segun-do 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 José Arcadio Segun-do was able to bring to Macon-do
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 Macon-do into delirium for three days and whose only lasting consequence was having given Aureli-ano Segun-do the opportunity to meet Fernanda del Carpio.

Remedios the Beauty was proclaimed queen. úrsula
who shuddered at the disquieted beauty of her great--granddaughter
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 Macon-do. 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.