百年孤独这本书怎么样 世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第11章Part 6

世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第11章Part 6  

"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 enty years of war. From it the nocturnal itinerary of the colonel from the dawn he left Macon-do at the head of enty-one men on his way to afanciful 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 Even the withdrawn José Arcadio Segun-do offered them an afternoon of cockfights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 and 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 acpany 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 and whitewash from the walls had lived there
and that in her last years she was seen only ice 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 panion 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 with the rotten stench. So much time had passed since the sun had mummified the empty skin of thelast 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 and 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 o large eyes
still beautiful
in which the last stars of hope had gone out
and the skin of her 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.