百年孤独(英文版)-第79章

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ir　of　slippers　with　yellow　tassels；　and　there　he　would　officiate　at　a　rite　which　for　its　care　and　length　recalled　Remedios　the　Beauty。　Before　bathing　he　would　perfume　the　pool　with　the　salts　that　he　carried　in　three　alabaster　flacons。　He　did　not　bathe　himself　with　the　gourd　but　would　plunge　into　the　fragrant　waters　and　remain　there　for　two　hours　floating　on　his　back；　lulled　by　the　coolness　and　by　the　memory　of　Amaranta。　A　few　days　after　arriving　he　put　aside　his　taffeta　suit；　which　in　addition　to　being　too　hot　for　the　town　was　the　only　one　that　he　had；　and　he　exchanged　it　for　some　tight…fitting　pants　very　similar　to　those　worn　by　Pietro　Crespi　during　his　dance　lessons　and　a　silk　shirt　woven　with　thread　from　living　caterpillars　and　with　his　initials　embroidered　over　the　heart。　Twice　a　week　he　would　wash　the　plete　change　in　the　tub　and　would　wear　his　robe　until　it　dried　because　he　had　nothing　else　to　put　on。　He　never　ate　at　home。　He　would　go　out　when　the　heat　of　siesta　time　had　eased　and　would　not　return　until　well　into　the　night。　Then　he　would　continue　his　anxious　pacing；　breathing　like　a　cat　and　thinking　about　Amaranta。　She　and　the　frightful　look　of　the　saints　in　the　glow　of　the　nocturnal　lamp　were　the　two　memories　he　retained　of　the　house。　Many　times　during　the　hallucinating　Roman　August　he　had　opened　his　eyes　in　the　middle　of　his　sleep　and　had　seen　Amaranta　rising　out　of　a　marble…edged　pool　with　her　lace　petticoats　and　the　bandage　on　her　hand；　idealized　by　the　anxiety　of　exile。　Unlike　Aureliano　Jos？who　tried　to　drown　that　image　in　the　bloody　bog　of　war；　he　tried　to　keep　it　alive　in　the　sink　of　concupiscence　while　he　entertained　his　mother　with　the　endless　fable　of　his　pontifical　vocation。　It　never　occurred　either　to　him　or　to　Fernanda　to　think　that　their　correspondence　was　an　exchange　of　fantasies。　Jos？Arcadio；　who　left　the　seminary　as　soon　as　he　reached　Rome；　continued　nourishing　the　legend　of　theology　and　canon　law　so　as　not　to　jeopardize　the　fabulous　inheritance　of　which　his　mother’s　delirious　letters　spoke　and　which　would　rescue　him　from　the　misery　and　sordidness　he　shared　with　two　friends　in　a　Trastevere　garret。　When　he　received　Fernanda’s　last　letter；　dictated　by　the　foreboding　of　imminent　death；　he　put　the　leftovers　of　his　false　splendor　into　a　suitcase　and　crossed　the　ocean　in　the　hold　of　a　ship　where　immigrants　were　crammed　together　like　cattle　in　a　slaughterhouse；　eating　cold　macaroni　and　wormy　cheese。　Before　he　read　Fernanda’s　will；　which　was　nothing　but　a　detailed　and　tardy　recapitulation　of　her　misfortunes；　the　broken…down　furniture　and　the　weeds　on　the　porch　had　indicated　that　he　had　fallen　into　a　trap　from　which　he　would　never　escape；　exiled　forever　from　the　diamond　light　and　timeless　air　of　the　Roman　spring。　During　the　crushing　insomnia　brought　on　by　his　asthma　he　would　measure　and　remeasure　the　depth　of　his　misfortune　as　he　went　through　the　shadowy　house　where　the　senile　fussing　of　？rsula　had　instilled　a　fear　of　the　world　in　him。　In　order　to　be　sure　that　she　would　not　lose　him　in　the　shadows；　she　had　assigned　him　a　corner　of　the　bedroom；　the　only　one　where　he　would　be　safe　from　the　dead　people　who　wandered　through　the　house　after　sundown。　“If　you　do　anything　bad；？？rsula　would　tell　him；　“the　saints　will　let　me　know。？The　terror…filled　nights　of　his　childhood　were　reduced　to　that　corner　where　he　would　remain　motionless　until　it　was　time　to　go　to　bed；　perspiring　with　fear　on　a　stool　under　the　watchful　and　glacial　eyes　of　the　tattletale　saints。　It　was　useless　torture　because　even　at　that　time　he　already　had　a　terror　of　everything　around　him　and　he　was　prepared　to　be　frightened　at　anything　he　met　in　life：　women　on　the　street；　who　would　ruin　his　blood；　the　women　in　the　house；　who　bore　children　with　the　tail　of　a　pig；　fighting　cocks；　who　brought　on　the　death　of　men　and　remorse　for　the　rest　of　one’s　life；　firearms；　which　with　the　mere　touch　would　bring　down　twenty　years　of　war；　uncertain　ventures；　which　led　only　to　disillusionment　and　madness—everything；　in　short；　everything　that　God　had　created　in　His　infinite　goodness　and　that　the　devil　had　perverted。　When　he　awakened；　pressed　in　the　vise　of　his　nightmares；　the　light　in　the　window　and　the　caresses　of　Amaranta　in　the　bath　and　the　pleasure　of　being　powdered　between　the　legs　with　a　silk　puff　would　release　him　from　the　terror。　Even　？rsula　was　different　under　the　radiant　light　in　the　garden　because　there　she　did　not　talk　about　fearful　things　but　would　brush　his　teeth　with　charcoal　powder　so　that　he　would　have　the　radiant　smile　of　a　Pope；　and　she　would　cut　and　polish　his　nails　so　that　the　pilgrims　who　came　to　Rome　from　all　over　the　world　would　be　startled　at　the　beauty　of　the　Pope’s　hands　as　he　blessed　them；　and　she　would　b　his　hair　like　that　of　a　Pope；　and　she　would　sprinkle　his　body　and　his　clothing　with　toilet　water　so　that　his　body　and　his　clothes　would　have　the　fragrance　of　a　Pope。　In　the　courtyard　of　Castel　Gandolfo　he　had　seen　the　Pope　on　a　balcony　making　the　same　speech　in　seven　languages　for　a　crowd　of　pilgrims　and　the　only　thing；　indeed；　that　had　drawn　his　attention　was　the　whiteness　of　his　hands；　which　seemed　to　have　been　soaked　in　lye；　the　dazzling　shine　of　his　summer　clothing；　and　the　hidden　breath　of　cologne。
　　　Almost　a　year　after　his　return　home；　having　sold　the　silver　candlesticks　and　the　heraldic　chamberpot—which　at　the　moment　of　truth　turned　out　to　have　only　a　little　gold　plating　on　the　crest—in　order　to　eat；　the　only　distraction　of　Jos？Arcadio　was　to　pick　up　children　in　town　so　that　they　could　play　in　the　house。　He　would　appear　with　them　at　siesta　time　and　have　them　skip　rope　in　the　garden；　sing　on　the　porch；　and　do　acrobatics　on　the　furniture　in　the　living　room　while　he　would　go　among　the　groups　giving　lessons　in　good　manners。　At　that　time　he　had　finished　with　the　tight　pants　and　the　silk　shirts　and　was　wearing　an　ordinary　suit　of　clothing　that　he　had　bought　in　the　Arab　stores；　but　he　still　maintained　his　languid　dignity　and　his　papal　air。　The　children　took　over　the　house　just　as　Meme’s　schoolmates　had　done　in　the　past。　Until　well　into　the　night　they　could　be　heard　chattering　and　singing　and　tap…dancing；　so　that　the　house　resembled　a　boarding　school　where　there　was　no　discipline。　Aureliano　did　not　worry　about　the　invasion　as　long　as　they　did　not　bother　him　in　Melquíades？room。　One　morning　two　children　pushed　open　the　door　and　were　startled　at　the　sight　of　a　filthy　and　hairy　man　who　was　still　deciphering　the　parchments　on　the　worktable。　They　did　not　dare　go　in；　but　they　kept　on　watching　the　room。　They　would　peep　in　through　the　cracks；　whispering；　they　threw　live　animals　in　through　the　transom；　and　on　one　occasion　they　nailed　up　the　door　and　the　window　and　it　took　Aureliano　half　a　day　to　force　them　open。　Amused　at　their　unpunished　mischief；　four　of　the　children　went　into　the　room　one　morning　while　Aureliano　was　in　the　kitchen；　preparing　to　destroy　the　parchments。　But　as　soon　as　they　laid　hands　on　the　yellowed　sheets　an　angelic　force　lifted　them　off　the　ground　and　held　them　suspended　in　the　air　until　Aureliano　returned　and　took　the　parchments　away　from　them。　From　then　on　they　did　not　bother　him。
　　　The　four　oldest　children；　who　wore　short　pants　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　they　were　on　the　threshold　of　adolescence；　busied　themselves　with　Jos？Arcadio’s　personal　appearance。　They　would　arrive　earlier　than　the　others　and　spend　the　morning　shaving　him；　giving　him　massages　with　hot　towels；　cutting　and　polishing　the　nails　on　his　hands　and　feet；　and　perfuming　him　with　toilet　water。　On　several　occasions　they　would　get　into　the　pool　to　soap　him　from　head　to　toe　as　he　floated　on　his　back　thinking　about　Amaranta。　Then　they　would　dry　him；　powder　his　body；　and　dress　him。　One　of　the　children；　who　had　curly　blond　hair　and　eyes　of　pink　glass　like　a　rabbit；　was　accustomed　to　sleeping　in　the　house。　The　bonds　that　linked　him　to　Jos？Arcadio　were　so　strong　that　he　would　acpany　him　in　his　asthmatic　insomnia；　without　speaking；　strolling　through　the　house　with　him　in　the　darkness。　One　night　in　the　room　where　？rsula　had　slept　they　saw　a　yellow　glow　ing　through　the　crumbling　cement　as　if　an　underground　sun　had　changed　the　floor　of　the　room　into　a　pane　of　glass。　They　did　not　have　to　turn　on　the　light。　It　was　sufficient　to　lift　the　broken　slabs　in　the　corner　where　？rsula’s　bed　had　always　stood　and　where　the　glow　was　most　intense　to　find　the　secret　crypt　that　Aureliano　Segundo　had　worn　himself　out　searching　for　during　the　delirium　of　his　excavations。　There　were　the　three　canvas　sacks　closed　with　copper　wire；　and　inside　of　them　the　seven　thousand　two　hundred　fourteen　pieces　of　eight；　which　continued　glowing　like　embers　in　the　darkness。
　　　The　discovery　of　the　treasure　was　like　a　deflagration。　Instead　of　returning　to　Rome　with　the　sudden　fortune；　which　had　been　his　dream　maturing　in　misery；　Jos？Arcadio　converted　the　house　into　a　decadent　paradise。　He　replaced　the　curtains　and　the　canopy　of　the　bed　with　new　velvet；　and　he　had　the　bathroom　floor　covered　with　paving　stones　and　the　walls　with　tiles。　The　cupboard　in　the　dining　room　was　filled　with　fruit　preserves；　hams；　and　pickles；　and　the　unused　pantry　was　opened　again　for　the　storage　of　wines　and　liqueurs　which　Jos？Arcadio　himself　brou