THE WAR was over in May. Two weeks before the government made the official announcement in a high-sounding proclamation， which promised merciless punishment for those who had started the rebellion， Colonel Aureliano Buendía fell prisoner just as he was about to reach the western frontier disguised as an Indian witch doctor. Of the twenty-one men who had followed him to war， fourteen fell in combat， six were wounded， and only one accompanied him at the moment of final defeat: Colonel Gerineldo Márquez. The news of his capture was announced in Macondo with a special proclamation. "He's alive，" úrsula told her husband. "Let's pray to God for his enemies to show him clemency." After three days of weeping， one afternoon as she was stirring some sweet milk candy in the kitchen she heard her son's voice clearly in her ear. "It was Aureliano， " she shouted， running toward the chestnut tree to tell her husband the news. "I don't know how the miracle took place， but he's alive we're going to see him very soon." She took it for granted. She had the floors of the house scrubbed and changed the position of the furniture. One week later a rumor from somewhere that was not supported by any proclamation gave dramatic confirmation to the prediction. Colonel Aureliano Buendía had been condemned to death and the sentence would be carried out in Macondo as a lesson to the population. On Monday， at tenthirty in the morning， Amaranta was dressing Aureliano José when she heard the sound a distant troop and the blast of a cornet one second before úrsula burst into the room with the shout: "They're bringing him now!" The troop struggled to subdue the overflowing crowd with their rifle butts. úrsula and Amaranta ran to the corner， pushing their way through， and then they saw him. He looked like a beggar. His clothing was torn， his hair and beard were tangled， and he was barefoot. He was walking without feeling the burning dust， his hands tied behind his back with a rope that a mounted officer had attached to the head of his horse. Along with him， also ragged and defeated， they were bringing Colonel Gerineldo Márquez. They were not sad. They seemed more disturbed by the crowd that was shouting all kinds of insults at the troops.
"My son!" úrsula shouted in the midst of the uproar， and she slapped the soldier who tried to hold her back. The officer's horse reared. Then Colonel Aureliano Buendía stopped， tremulous， avoided the arms of his mother， and fixed a stern look on eyes.
"Go home， Mama，" he said. "Get permission from the authorities to come see me in jail."
He looked at Amaranta， who stood indecisively two steps behind úrsula， and he smiled as he asked her， "What happened to your hand?" Amaranta raised the hand with the black bandage. "A burn，" she said， and took úrsula away so that the horses would not run her down. The troop took off. A special guard surrounded the prisoners and took them to the jail at a trot.
At dusk úrsula visited Colonel Aureliano Buendía in jail. She had tried to get permission through Don Apolinar Moscote， but he had lost all authority in the face of the military omnipotence. Father Nicanor was in bed with hepatic fever. The parents of Colonel Gerineldo Márquez， who had not been condemned to death， had tried to see him and were driven off with rifle butts. Facing the impossibility of finding anyone to intervene， convinced that her son would be shot at dawn， úrsula wrapped up the things she wanted to bring him and went to the jail alone.
The sentries blocked her way. "I'm going in in any case，" úrsula warned them. "So if you have orders to shoot， start right in." She pushed one of them aside and went into the former classroom， where a group of half-dressed soldiers were oiling their weapons. An officer in a field uniform， ruddy-faced， with very thick glasses and ceremonious manners， signaled to the sentries to withdraw.
"I am the mother of Colonel Aureliano Buendía，" úrsula repeated.
"You must mean，" the officer corrected with a friendly smile， "that you are the mother of Mister Aureliano Buendía." úrsula recognized in his affected way of speaking the languid cadence of the stuck-up people from the highlands.
There were superior orders that prohibited visits to prisoners condemned to death， but the officer assumed the responsibility of letting her have a fifteen-minute stay. úrsula showed him what she had in the bundle: a change of clean clothing， the short boots that her son had worn at his wedding， and the sweet milk candy that she had kept for him since the day she had sensed his return. She found Colonel Aureliano Buendía in the room that was used as a cell， lying on a cot with his arms spread out because his armpits were paved with sores. They had allowed him to shave. The thick mustache with twisted ends accentuated the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He looked paler to úrsula than when he had left， a little taller， and more solitary than ever. He knew all about the details of the house: Pietro Crespi's suicide， Arcadio's arbitrary acts and execution. the dauntlessness of José Arcadio Buendía underneath the chestnut tree. He knew that Amaranta had consecrated her virginal widowhood to the rearing of Aureliano José and that the latter was beginning to show signs of quite good judgment and that he had learned to read and write at the same time he had learned to speak. From the moment In which she entered the room úrsula felt inhibited by the maturity of her son， by his aura of command， by the glow of authority that radiated from his skin. She was surprised that he was so well-informed. "You knew all along that I was a wizard，" he joked. he added in a serious tone， "This morning， when they brought me here， I had the impression that I had already been through all that before." In fact， while the crowd was roaring alongside him， he had been concentrating his thoughts， startled at how the town had aged. The leaves of the almond trees were broken. The houses， painted blue， then painted red， had ended up with an indefinable coloration.
"What did you expect?" úrsula sighed. "Time passes."
In that way the long-awaited visit， for which both had prepared questions and had even anticipated answers， was once more the usual everyday conversation. When the guard announced the end of the visit， Aureliano took out a roll of sweaty papers from under the cot. They were his poetry， the poems inspired by Remedios， which he had taken with him when he left， and those he had written later on during chance pauses in the war. "Promise me that no one will read them，" he said. "Light the oven with them this very night." úrsula promised stood up to kiss him goodbye.
"I brought you a revolver，" she murmured.
Colonel Aureliano Buendía saw that the sentry could not see. "It won't do me any good，" he said in a low voice， "but give it to me in case they search you on the way out." úrsula took the revolver out of her bodice and put it under the mattress of the cot. "And don't say goodbye，" he concluded emphatic calmness. "Don't beg or bow down to anyone. Pretend that they shot me a long time ago." úrsula bit her lip so as not to cry.
"Put some hot stones on those sores，" she said.
She turned halfway around and left the room. Colonel Aureliano Buendía remained standing， thoughtful， until the door closed. Then he lay down again with his arms open. Since the beginning of adolescence， when he had begun to be aware of his premonitions， he thought that death would be announced with a definite， unequivocal， irrevocable signal， but there were only a few hours left before he would die and the signal had not come. On a certain occasion a very beautiful woman had come into his camp in Tucurinca and asked the sentries' permission to see him. They let her through because they were aware of the fanaticism of mothers， who sent their daughters to the bedrooms the most famous warriors， according to what they said， to improve the breed. That night Colonel Aureliano Buendía was finishing the poem about the man who is lost in the rain when the girl came into his room. He turned his back to her to put the sheet of paper into the locked drawer where he kept his poetry. And then he sensed it. He grasped the pistol in the drawer without turning his head.
"Please don't shoot，" he said.
When he turned around holding his Pistol， the girl had lowered hers and did not know what to do. In that way he had avoided four out of eleven traps. On the other hand， someone who was never caught entered the revolutionary headquarters one night in Manaure and stabbed to death his close friend Colonel Magnífico Visbal， to whom he had given his cot so that he could sweat out a fever. A few yards away， sleeping in a hammock in the same room. he was not aware of anything. His efforts to systematize his premonitions were useless. They would come suddenly in a wave of supernatural lucidity， like an absolute and momentaneous conviction， but they could not be grasped. On occasion they were so natural that he identified them as premonitions only after they had been fulfilled. Frequently they were nothing but ordinary bits of superstition. But when they condemned him to death and asked him to state his last wish， he did not have the least difficulty in identifying the premonition that inspired his answer.
"I ask that the sentence be carried out in Macondo，" he said.
The president of the court-martial was annoyed. "Don't be clever， Buendía，" he told him. "That's just a trick to gain more time."
"If you don't fulfill it， that will be your worry." the colonel said， "but that's my last wish."
Actually， they did not dare carry out the sentence. The rebelliousness of the town made the military men think that the execution of Colonel Aureliano Buendía might have serious political consequences not only in Macondo but throughout the area of the swamp， so they consulted the authorities in the capital of the province. On Saturday night， while they were waiting for an answer Captain Roque Carnicero went with some other officers to Catarino's place. Only one woman， practically threatened， dared take to her room. "They don't want to go to bed with a man they know is going to die，" she confessed to him. "No one knows how it will come， but everybody is going around saying that the officer who shoots Colonel Aureliano Buendía and all the soldiers in the squad， one by one， will be murdered， with no escape， sooner or later， even if they hide at the ends of the earth." Captain Roque Carnicero mentioned it to the other officers and they told their superiors. On Sunday， although no one had revealed it openly， although no action on the part of the military had disturbed the tense calm of those days， the whole town knew that the officers were ready to use any manner of pretext to avoid responsibility for the execution. The official order arrived in the Monday mail: the execution was to be carried out within twenty-four hours. That night the officers put seven slips of paper into a cap， and Captain Roque Carnicero's unpeaceful fate was foreseen by his name on the prize slip. "Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it，" he said with deep bitterness. "I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch." At five in the morning he chose the squad by lot， formed it in the courtyard， and woke up the condemned man with a premonitory phrase.
"Let's go， Buendía，" he told him. "Our time has come."
"So that's what it was，" the colonel replied. "I was dreaming that my sores had burst."
Rebeca Buendía got up at three in the morning when she learned that Aureliano would be shot. She stayed in the bedroom in the dark， watching the cemetery wall through the half-opened window as the bed on which she sat shook with José Arcadio's snoring. She had waited all week with the same hidden persistence with which during different times she had waited for Pietro Crespi's letters. "They won't shoot him here，" José Arcadio， told her. "They'll shoot him at midnight in the barracks so that no one will know who made up the squad， and they'll bury him right there." Rebeca kept on waiting. "They're stupid enough to shoot him here，" she said. She was so certain that she had foreseen the way she would open the door to wave goodbye. "They won't bring him through the streets，" José Arcadio insisted， with six scared soldiers and knowing that the people are ready for anything." Indifferent to her husband's logic， Rebeca stayed by the window.
"Don't shoot，" the captain said to José Arcadio. "You were sent by Divine Providence."
Another war began right there. Captain Roque Carnicero and his six men left with Colonel Aureliano Buendía to free the revolutionary general Victorio Medina， who had been condemned to death in Riohacha. They thought they could save time by crossing the mountains along the trail that José Arcadio Buendía had followed to found Macondo， but before a week was out they were convinced that it was an impossible undertaking. So they had to follow the dangerous route over the outcroppings; with no other munitions but what the firing squad had. They would camp near the towns and one of them， with a small gold fish in his hand， would go in disguise in broad daylight to contact the dormant Liberals， who would go out hunting on the following morning and never return. When they saw Riohacha from a ridge in the mountains， General Victorio Medina had been shot. Colonel Aureliano Buendía's men proclaimed him chief of the revolutionary forces of the Caribbean coast with the rank of general. He assumed the position but refused the promotion and took the stand that he would never accept it as long as the Conservative regime was in power. At the end of three months they had succeeded in arming more than a thousand men， but they were wiped out. The survivors reached the eastern frontier. The next thing that was heard of them was that they had landed on Cabo de la Vela， coming from the smaller islands of the Antilles， and a message from the government was sent all over by telegraph and included in jubilant proclamations throughout the country announcing the death of Colonel Aureliano Buendía. But two days later a multiple telegram which almost overtook the previous one announced another uprising on the southern plains. That was how the legend of the ubiquitous Colonel Aureliano Buendía， began. Simultaneous and contradictory information declared him victorious in Villanueva. defeated in Guacamayal， devoured by Motilón Indians， dead in a village in the swamp， and up in arms again in Urumita. The Liberal leaders， who at that moment were negotiating for participation in the congress， branded him in adventurer who did not represent the party. The national government placed him in the category of a bandit and put a price of five thousand pesos on his head. After sixteen defeats， Colonel Aureliano Buendía left Guajira with two thousand well-armed Indians and the garrison， which was taken by surprise as it slept， abandoned Riohacha. He established his headquarters there and proclaimed total war against the regime. The first message he received from the government was a threat to shoot Colonel Gerineldo Márquez within forty-eight hours if he did not withdraw with his forces to the eastern frontier. Colonel Roque Carnicero， who was his chief of staff then， gave him the telegram with a look consternation， but he read it with unforeseen joy.
"How wonderful!" he exclaimed. "We have a telegraph office in Macondo now."
His reply was definitive. In three months he expected to establish his headquarters in Macondo. If he did not find Colonel Gerineldo Márquez alive at that time he would shoot out of hand all of the officers he held prisoner at that moment starting with the generals， and he would give orders to his subordinates to do the same for the rest of the war. Three months later， when he entered Macondo in triumph， the first embrace he received on the swamp road was that of Colonel Gerineldo Márquez.
The house was full of children. úrsula had taken in Santa Sofía de la Piedad with her older daughter and a pair of twins， who had been born five months after Arcadio had been shot. Contrary to the victim's last wishes， she baptized the girl with the name of Remedios. I'm sure that was what Arcadio meant，" she alleged. "We won't call her úrsula， because a person suffers too much that name." The twins were named José Arcadio Segundo and Aureliano Segundo. Amaranta took care of them all. She put small wooden chairs in the living room and established a nursery with other children from neighboring families. When Colonel Aureliano Buendía returned in the midst of exploding rockets and ringing bells， a children's chorus welcomed to the house. Aureliano José， tall like his grandfa-ther， dressed as a revolutionary officer， gave him military honors.
Not all the news was good. A year after the flight of Colonel Aureliano Buendía， José Arcadio and Rebeca went to live in the house Arcadio had built. No one knew about his intervention to halt the execution. In the new house， located on the best corner of the square， in the shade of an almond tree that was honored by three nests redbreasts， with a large door for visitors and four windows for light， they set up a hospitable home. Rebeca's old friends， among them four of the Moscote sisters who were still single， once more took up the sessions of embroidery that had been interrupted years before on the porch with the begonias. José Arcadio continued to profit from the usurped lands， the title to which was recognized by the Conservative government. Every afternoon he could be seen returning on horseback， with his hunting dogs and his double-barreled shotgun and a string of rabbits hanging from his saddle. One September afternoon， with the threat of a storm， he returned home earlier than usual. He greeted Rebeca in the dining room， tied the dogs up in the courtyard， hung the rabbits up in the kitchen to be salted later， and went to the bedroom to change his clothes. Rebeca later declared that when her husband went into the bedroom she was locked in the bathroom and did not hear anything. It was a difficult version to believe， but there was no other more plausible， and no one could think of any motive for Rebeca to murder the man who had made her happy. That was perhaps the only mystery that was never cleared up in Macondo. As soon as José Arcadio closed the bedroom door the sound of a pistol shot echoed through the house. A trickle of blood came out under the door， crossed the living room， went out into the street， continued on in a straight line across the uneven terraces， went down steps and climbed over curbs， passed along the Street of the Turks， turned a corner to the right and another to the left， made a right angle at the Buendía house， went in under the closed door， crossed through the parlor， hugging the walls so as not to stain the rugs， went on to the other living room， made a wide curve to avoid the dining-room table， went along the porch with the begonias， and passed without being seen under Amaranta's chair as she gave an arithmetic lesson to Aureliano José ， and went through the pantry and came out in the kitchen， where úrsula was getting ready to crack thirty--six eggs to make bread.
"Holy Mother of God!" úrsula shouted.
She followed the thread of blood back along its course， and in search its origin she went through the pantry， along the begonia porch where Aureliano José was chanting that three plus three is six and six plus three is nine， and she crossed the dining room and the living rooms and followed straight down the street， and she turned first to the right then to the left to the Street of the Turks， forgetting that she was still wearing her baking apron and her house slippers， and she came out onto the square and went into the door a house where she had never been， and she pushed open the bedroom door and was almost suffocated by the smell of burned gunpowder， and she found José Arcadio lying face down on the ground on top of the leggings he had just taken off， and she saw the starting point of the thread of blood that had already stopped flowing out of his right ear. They found no wound on his body nor could they locate the weapon. Nor was it possible to remove the smell of powder from the corpse. First they washed him three times with soap and a scrubbing brush， and they rubbed him with salt and vinegar， then with ashes and lemon， and finally they put him in a barrel of lye and let him stay for six hours. They scrubbed him so much that the arabesques of his tattooing began to fade. When they thought of the desperate measure of seasoning him with pepper， cumin seeds， and laurel leaves and boiling him for a whole day over a slow fire， he had already begun to decompose and they had to bury him hastily. They sealed him hermetically in a special coffin seven and a half feet long and four feet wide， reinforced inside with iron plates and fastened togetsteel bolts， and even then the smell could be perceived on the streets through which the funeral procession passed. Father Nicanor， with his liver enlarged and tight as a drum， gave him his blessing from bed. Although in the months that followed they reinforced the grave with walls about it， between which they threw compressed ash， sawdust， and quicklime， the cemetery still smelled of powder for many years after， until the engineers from the banana company covered the grave over with a shell of concrete. As soon as they took the body out， Rebeca closed the doors of her house and buried herself alive， covered with a thick crust of disdain that no earthly temptation was ever able to break. She went out into the street on one occasion， when she was very old， with shoes the color of old silver and a hat made of tiny flowers， during the time that the Wandering Jew passed through town and brought on a heat wave that was so intense that birds broke through window screens to come to die in the bedrooms. The last time anyone saw her alive was when with one shot she killed a thief who was trying to force the door of her house. Except for Argénida， her servant and confidante， no one ever had any more contact with her after that. At one time it was discovered that she was writing letters to the Bishop， whom she claimed as a first cousin. but it was never said whether she received any reply. The town forgot about her.
In spite of his triumphal return， Colonel Aureliano Buendía was not enthusiastic over the looks of things. The government troops abandoned their positions without resistance and that aroused an illusion of victory among the Liberal population that it was not right to destroy， but the revolutionaries knew the truth， Colonel Aureliano Buendía better than any of them. Although at that moment he had more than five thousand men under his command and held two coastal states， he had the feeling of being hemmed in against the sea and caught in a situation that was so confused that when he ordered the restoration of the church steeple， which had been knocked down by army cannon fire， Father Nicanor commented from his sickbed: "This is silly; the defenders of the faith of Christ destroy the church and the Masons order it rebuilt." Looking for a loophole through which he could escape， he spent hours on end in the telegraph office conferring with the commanders of other towns， and every time he would emerge with the firmest impression that the war was at a stalemate. When news of fresh liberal victories was received it was celebrated with jubilant proclamations， but he would measure the real extent of them on the map and could see that his forces were penetrating into the jungle， defending themselves against malaria mosquitoes， advancing in the opposite direction from reality. "We're wasting time，" he would complain to his officers. "We're wasting time while the bastards in the party are begging for seats in congress." Lying awake at night， stretched out on his back in a hammock in the same room where he had awaited death， he would evoke the image of lawyers dressed in black leaving the presidential palace in the icy cold of early morning with their coat collars turned up about their ears， rubbing their hands， whispering， taking refuge in dreary early-morning cafés to speculate over what the president had meant when he said yes， or what he had meant when he said no， and even to imagine what the president was thinking when he said something quite different， as he chased away mosquitoes at a temperature of ninety-five degrees， feeling the approach the fearsome dawn when he would have to give his men the command to jump into the sea.
One night of uncertainty， when Pilar Ternera was singing in the courtyard with the soldiers， he asked her to read the future in her cards. "Watch out for your mouth，" was all that Pilar Ternera brought out after spreading and picking up the cards three times. "I don't know it means， but the sign is very clear. Watch out for your mouth." Two days later someone gave an orderly a mug of black coffee and the orderly passed it on to someone else that one to someone else until， hand to hand， it reached Colonel Aureliano Buendía office. He had not asked for any coffee， but since it was there the colonel drank it. It had a dose of nux vomica strong enough to kill a horse. When they took him home he was stiff and arched and his tongue was sticking out between his teeth. úrsula fought against death over him. After cleaning out his stomach with emetics， she wrapped him in hot blankets and fed him egg whites for two days until his harrowed body recovered its normal temperature. On the fourth day he was out danger. Against his will， pressured by úrsula and his officers， he stayed in bed for another week. Only then did he learn that his verses had not been burned. "I didn't want to be hasty，" úrsula explained to him. "That night when I went to light the oven I said to myself that it would be better to wait until they brought the body." In the haze convalescence， surrounded by Remedios' dusty dolls， Colonel Aureliano Buendía， brought back the decisive periods of his existence by reading his poetry. He started writing again. For many hours， balancing on the edge of the surprises of a war with no future， in rhymed verse he resolved his experience on the shores of death. Then his thoughts became so clear that he was able to examine them forward and backward. One night he asked Colonel Gerineldo Márquez:
"Tell me something， old friend: why are you fighting?"
"What other reason could there be?" Colonel Gerineldo Márquez answered. "For the great liberal party."
"You're lucky because you know why，" he answered. "As far as I'm concerned， I've come to realize only just now that I'm fighting because of pride."
"That's bad，" Colonel Gerineldo Márquez said. Colonel Aureliano Buendía was amused at his alarm. "Naturally，" he said. "But in any case， it's better than not knowing why you're fighting." He looked him in the eyes and added with a smile:
His pride had prevented him from making contact with the armed groups in the interior of the country until the leaders of the party publicly rectified their declaration that he was a bandit. He knew， however， that as soon as he put those scruples aside he would break the vicious circle of the war. Convalescence gave him time to reflect. Then he succeeded in getting úrsula to give him the rest of her buried inheritance and her substantial savings. He named Colonel Gerineldo Márquez civil and military leader of Macondo and he went off to make contact with the rebel groups in the interior.
Colonel Gerineldo Márquez was not only the man closest to Colonel Aureliano Buendía， but úrsula received him as a member of the family. Fragile， timid， with natural good manners， he was， however， better suited for war than for government. His political advisers easily entangled him in theoretical labyrinths， But he succeeded in giving Macondo the atmosphere of rural peace that Colonel Aureliano， Buendía dreamed of so that he could die of old age making little gold fishes. Although he lived in his parents' house he would have lunch at úrsula's two or three times a week. He initiated Aureliano José in the use of firearms， gave him early military instruction， and for several months took him to live in the barracks， with úrsula's consent， so that he could become a man. Many years before， when he was still almost a child， Gerineldo Márquez had declared his love for Amaranta. At that time she was so illusioned with her lonely passion for Pietro Crespi that she laughed at him. Gerineldo Márquez waited. On a certain occasion he sent Amaranta a note from jail asking her to embroider a dozen batiste handkerchiefs with his father's initials on them. He sent her the money. A week later Amaranta， brought the dozen handkerchiefs to him in jail along with the money and they spent several hours talking about the past. "When I get out of here I'm going to marry you，" Gerineldo Márquez told her when she left. Amaranta laughed but she kept on thinking about him while she taught the children to read and she tried to revive her juvenile passion for Pietro Crespi. On Saturday， visiting days for the prisoners， she would stop by the house of Gerineldo Márquez's parents and accompany them to the jail. On one of those Saturdays úrsula was surprised to see her in the kitchen， waiting for the biscuits to come out of the oven so that she could pick the best ones and cap them in a napkin that she had embroidered for the occasion.
"Marry him，" she told her. "You'll have a hard time finding another man like him."
Amaranta feigned a reaction of displeasure.
"I don't have to go around hunting for men，" she answered. "I'm taking these biscuits to Gerineldo because I'm sorry that sooner or later they're going to shoot him."
She said it without thinking， but that was the time that the government had announced its threat to shoot Colonel Gerineldo Márquez if the rebel forces did not surrender Riohacha. The visits stopped. Amaranta shut herself up to weep， overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt similar to the one that had tormented her when Remedios died， as if once more her careless words had been responsible for a death. Her mother consoled her. She inured her that Colonel Aureliano Buendía would do something to prevent the execution and promised that she would take charge of attracting Gerineldo Márquez herself when the war was over. She fulfilled her promise before the imagined time. When Gerineldo Márquez returned to the house， invested with his new dignity of civil and military leader， she received him as a son， thought of delightful bits of flattery to hold there， and prayed with all her soul that he would remember his plan to marry Amaranta. Her pleas seemed to be answered. On the days that he would have lunch at the house， Colonel Gerineldo Márquez would linger on the begonia porch playing Chinese checkers with Amaranta. úrsula would bring them coffee and milk and biscuits and would take over the children so that they would not bother them. Amaranta was really making an effort to kindle in her heart the forgotten ashes of her youthful passion. With an anxiety that came to be intolerable， she waited for the lunch days， the afternoons of Chinese checkers， and time flew by in the company of the warrior with a nostalgic name whose fingers trembled imperceptibly as he moved the pieces. But the day on which Colonel Gerineldo Márquez repeated his wish to marry her， she rejected him.
"I'm not going to marry anyone，" she told him， "much less you. You love Aureliano so much that you want to marry me because you can't marry him."
Colonel Gerineldo Márquez was a patient man. "I'll keep on insisting，" he said. "Sooner or later I'll convince you." He kept on visiting the house. Shut up in her bedroom biting back her secret tears， Amaranta put her fingers in her ears so as not to bear the voice of the suitor as he gave úrsula the latest war news， and in spite of the fact that she was dying to see him she had the strength not to go out and meet him.
At that time Colonel Aureliano Buendía took the time to send a detailed account to Macondo every two weeks. But only once， almost eight months after he had left， did he write to úrsula. A special messenger brought a sealed envelope to the house with a sheet of paper inside bearing the colonel's delicate hand: Take good care of Papa because he is going to die. úrsula became alarmed. "If Aureliano says so it's because Aureliano knows，" she said. And she had them help her take José Arcadio Buendía to his bedroom. Not only was he as heavy as ever， but during his prolonged stay under the chestnut tree he had developed the faculty of being able to increase his weight at will， to such a degree that seven men were unable to lift him and they had to drag him to the bed. A smell of tender mushrooms， of wood-flower fungus， of old and concentrated outdoors impregnated the air of the bedroom as it was breathed by the colossal old man weather-beaten by the sun and the rain. The next morning he was not in his bed. In spite of his undiminished strength， José Arcadio Buendía was in no condition to resist. It was all the same to him. If he went back to the chestnut tree it was not because he wanted to but because of a habit of his body. úrsula took care of him， fed him， brought him news of Aureliano. But actually， the only person with whom he was able to have contact for a long time was Prudencio Aguilar. Almost pulverized at that time by the decrepitude of death， Prudencio Aguilar would come twice a day to chat with him. They talked about fighting cocks. They promised each other to set up a breeding farm for magnificent birds， not so much to enjoy their victories， which they would not need then， as to have something to do on the tedious Sundays of death. It was Prudencio Aguilar who cleaned him fed him and brought him splendid news of an unknown person called Aureliano who was a colonel in the war. When he was alone， José Arcadio Buendía consoled himself with the dream the infinite rooms. He dreamed that he was getting out of bed， opening the door and going into an identical room with the same bed with a wrought-iron head， the same wicker chair， and the same small picture of the Virgin of Help on the back wall. From that room he would go into another that was just the same， the door of which would open into another that was just the same， the door of which would open into another one just the same， and then into anotexactly alike， so on to infinity. He liked to go from room to room. As in a gallery parallel mirrors， until Prudencio Aguilar would touch him on the shoulder. Then he would go back from room to room， walking in reverse， going back over his trail， and he would find Prudencio Aguilar in the room of reality. But one night， two weeks after they took him to his bed， Prudencio Aguilar touched his shoulder in an intermediate room and he stayed there forever， thinking that it was the real room. On the following morning úrsula was bringing him his breakfast when she saw a man coming along the hall. He was short and stocky， with a black suit on and a hat that was also black， enormous， pulled down to his taciturn eyes. "Good Lord，" úrsula thought， "I could have sworn it was Melquíades." It was Cataure， Visitación's brother， who had left the house fleeing from the insomnia plague and of whom there had never been any news. Visitación asked him why he had come back， he answered her in their solemn language:
"I have come for the exequies of the king."
Then they went into José Arcadio Buendía's room， shook him as hard as they could， shouted in his ear， put a mirror in front of his nostrils， but they could not awaken him. A short time later， when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin， through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm， and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who dept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by.
五月里，战争结束了。政府在言过其实的公告中正式宣布了这个消息，说要严惩叛乱的祸首；在这之前两个星期，奥雷连诺上校穿上印第安巫医的衣服，几乎已经到达西部边境，但是遭到了逮捕。他出去作战的时候，带了二十一个人，其中十四人阵亡，六人负伤，在最后一次战斗中跟他一起的只有一个人——格林列尔多.马克斯上校。奥雷连诺上校被捕的消息是特别在马孔多宣布的。“他还活着，”乌苏娜向丈夫说。“但愿敌人对他发发慈悲。”她为儿子痛哭了三天，到了第四天下午，她在厨房里制作奶油蜜饯时，清楚地听到了儿子的声音。“这是奥雷连诺，”她一面叫，一面跑去把消息告诉丈夫。“我不知道这个奇迹是咋个出现的，可他还活着，咱们很快就会见到他啦。”乌苏娜相信这是肯定的。她吩咐擦洗了家里的地板，重新布置了家具。过了一个星期，不知从哪儿来的消息（这一次没有发表公告），可悲地证实了她的预言。奥雷连诺已经判处死刑，将在马孔多执行，借以恐吓该镇居民。星期一早上，约莫十点半钟，阿玛兰塔正在给奥雷连诺.霍塞穿衣服，乱七八糟的喧哗声和号声忽然从远处传到她耳里，过了片刻，乌苏娜冲进屋来叫道：“他们把他押来啦！”在蜂拥的人群中，士兵们用枪托开辟道路，乌苏娜和阿玛兰塔挤过密集的人群，到了邻近的一条街上，便看见了奥雷连诺。奥雷连诺象个叫花子，光着脚丫，衣服褴楼，满脸胡子，蓬头垢面。他行进的时候，并没感到灼热的尘土烫脚。他的双手是用绳子捆绑在背后的，绳端攥在一个骑马的军官手里。跟他一起押着前进的是格林列尔多.马克斯上校，也是衣衫破烂、肮里肮脏的样子。他们并不垂头丧气，甚至对群众的行为感到激动，因为人们都在臭骂押解的士兵。
“我的儿子！”在一片嘈杂中发出了乌苏娜的号陶声。她推开一个打算阻挡她的士兵。军官骑的马直立起来。奥雷连诺上校战栗一下，就停住脚步，避开母亲的手，坚定地盯着她的眼睛。
“回家去吧，妈妈，他说。“请求当局允许，到牢里去看我吧。”
他把视线转向踌躇地站在乌苏娜背后的阿玛兰塔身上，向她微微一笑，问道：“你的手怎么啦？”阿玛兰塔举起缠着黑色绷带的手。“烧伤，”她说，然后把乌苏娜拖到一边，离马远些。士兵们朝天开了枪。骑兵队围着俘虏，朝兵营小跑而去。
傍晚，乌苏娜前来探望奥雷连诺上校。她本想在阿.摩斯柯特先生帮助下预先得到允许，可是现在全部仅力都集中在军人手里，他的话没有任何分量。尼康诺神父肝病发作，已经躺在床上了。格林列尔多.马克斯上校没有判处死刑，他的双亲算看望儿子，但是卫兵却用枪托把他俩赶走了。乌苏娜看出无法找中间人帮忙，而且相信天一亮奥雷连诺就会处决，于是就把她想给他的东西包上，独个儿前往兵营。
卫兵拦住了她。“我非进去不可，”乌苏娜说。“所以，你们要是奉命开枪，那就马上开枪吧，”她使劲推开其中一个士兵，跨进往日的教室，那儿有几个半裸的士兵正在擦枪。一个身穿行军服的军官，戴着一副厚厚的眼镜，脸色红润，彬彬有礼，向跟随她奔进来的卫兵们打了个手势，他们就退出去了。
“我是奥雷连诺上校的母亲，”乌苏娜重说一遍。
“您想说的是，大娘，”军官和蔼地一笑，纠正她的说法。“您是奥雷连诺先生的母亲吧。”
在他文雅的话里，乌苏娜听出了山地人——卡恰柯人慢吞吞的调子。
“就算是‘先生’吧，”她说，“只要我能见到他。”
根据上面的命令，探望死刑犯人是禁止的，但是军官自愿承担责任，允许乌苏娜十五分钟的会见。乌苏娜给他看了看她带来的一包东西：一套干净衣服，儿子结婚时穿过的一双皮鞋，她感到他要回来的那一天为他准备的奶油蜜饯。她在经常当作囚室的房间里发现了奥雷连诺上校。他伸开双手躺在那儿，因为他的腋下长了脓疮。他们已经让他刮了脸。浓密、燃卷的胡子使得颧骨更加突出。乌苏娜觉得，他比以前苍白，个子稍高了一些，但是显得更孤僻了。他知道家中发生的一切事情：知道皮埃特罗.克列斯比自杀；知道阿卡蒂奥专横暴戾，遭到处决；知道霍.阿.布恩蒂亚在粟树下的怪状，他也知道阿玛兰塔把她寡妇似的青春年华用来抚养奥雷连诺.霍塞;知道奥雷连诺.霍塞表现了非凡的智慧，刚开始说话就学会了读书写字。从跨进房间的片刻起，乌苏娜就感到拘束——儿子已经长大成人了，他那整个魁梧的身躯都显出极大的威力。她觉得奇怪的是，他对一切都很熟悉。“您知道：您的儿子是个有预见的人嘛，”他打趣地说。接着严肃地补充一句：“今天早上他们把我押来的时候，我仿佛早就知道这一切了。”
实际上，人群正在周围怒吼的时候，他是思绪万千的，看见这个市镇总共一年就已衰老，他就觉得惊异。杏树上的叶子凋落了。刷成蓝色的房屋，时而改成红色，时而又改成蓝色，最后变成了混沌不清的颜色。
“你有啥希望吗？”她叹了口气。“时间就要到了。”
“当然，”奥雷连诺回答。“不过......”
这次会见是两人都等了很久的；两人都准备了问题，甚至思量过可能得到的回答，但谈来谈去还是谈些家常。卫兵宣布十五分钟已过的时候，奥雷连诺从行军床的垫子下面取出一卷汗渍的纸页。这是他写的诗。其中一些诗是他献给雷麦黛丝的，离家时带走了；另一些诗是他后来在短暂的战斗间隙中写成的。“答应我吧，别让任何人看见它们，”他说。“今儿晚上就拿它们生炉子。”乌苏娜答应之后就站起身来，吻别儿子。
“我给你带来了一支手枪，”她低声说。
奥雷连诺上校相信卫兵没有看见，于是同样低声地回答：“我拿它干什么呢？不过，给我吧，要不然，你出去的时候，他们还会发现。”乌苏娜从怀里掏出手枪，奥雷连诺上校把它塞在床垫下面。“现在，不必向我告别了，”他用特别平静的声调说。“不要恳求任何人，不要在别人面前卑躬屈节。你就当别人早就把我枪毙了。”乌苏娜咬紧嘴唇，忍住泪水。
“拿热石头贴着脓疮（注：这是治疗脓疮的土法子），”说着，她一转身就走出了房间。
奥雷连诺上校继续站着深思，直到房门关上。接着他又躺下，伸开两只胳膊。从他进入青年时代起，他就觉得自己有预见的才能，经常相信：死神如果临近，是会以某种准确无误的、无可辩驳的朕兆预示他的，现在距离处决的时间只剩几小时了，而这种朕兆根本没有出现。从前有一次，一个十分漂亮的女人走进他在土库林卡的营地，要求卫兵允许她跟他见面。卫兵让她通过了，因为大家都知道，有些狂热的母亲欢喜叫自己的女儿跟最著名的指挥官睡觉，据她们自己解释，这可改良“品种”。那天晚上，奥雷连诺上校正在写一首诗，描述一个雨下迷路的人，这个女人忽然闯进屋来。上校打算把写好的纸页锁在他存放诗作的书桌抽屉里，就朝客人转过背去。他马上有所感觉。他头都没回，就突然拿起抽屉里的手枪，说道：
“请别开枪吧。”
他握着手枪猝然转过身去时，女人已经放下了自己的手枪，茫然失措地站着。在十一次谋杀中，他避免了四次这样的谋杀。不过，也有另一种情况：一个陌生人（此人后来没有逮住）悄悄溜进起义者在马诺尔的营地。用匕首刺死了他的密友——乌格尼菲柯.维斯巴尔上校。马格尼菲柯.维斯巴尔上校患了疟疾，奥雷连诺上校暂时把自己的吊铺让给了他。奥雷连诺上校自己就睡在旁边的吊铺上，什么也不知道。他想一切都凭预感，那是无用的。预感常常突然出现，仿佛是上帝的启示，也象是瞬刻间不可理解的某种信心。预感有时是完全不易察觉的，只是在应验以后，奥雷连诺上校才忽然醒悟自己曾有这种预感。有时，预感十分明确，却没应验。他经常把预感和一般的迷信混淆起来。然而，当法庭庭长向他宣读死刑判决，问他的最后希望时，他马上觉得有一种预感在暗示他作出如下的回答：
“我要求在马孔多执行判决。”
庭长生气了，说道：“你别耍滑头骗人，奥雷连诺。这不过是赢得时间的军事计谋。”
“你不愿意，那是你的事，”上校回答，“可这是我的最后希望。”
从那以后，他的预感就不太灵了。那一天，乌苏娜在狱里探望他的时候，他经过长久思考得出结论，这一次，死神很可能不会马上来临，因为死神的来临取决于刽子手的意志，他被自己的脓疮弄得很苦，整夜都没睡着。黎明前不久，走廊上响起了脚步声。“他们来啦，”奥雷连诺自言自语地说，他不知为什么突然想起了霍. 阿.布恩蒂亚；就在这一片刻，在黎明前的晦暗里，霍.阿.布恩蒂亚蜷缩在粟树下面的板凳上，大概也想到了他。奥雷连诺上校心里既没有留恋，也没有恐惧，只有深沉的恼怒，因他想到，由于这种过早的死亡，他看不到自己来不及完成的一切事情如何完成了......牢门打开，一个士兵拿着一杯咖啡走了进来。第二天，也在这个时刻，奥雷连诺上校腋下照旧痛得难受的时候，同样的情况又重复了一遍。星期四，他把乌苏娜带来的蜜饯分给了卫兵们，穿上了他觉得太紧的干净衣服和漆皮鞋。到了星期五，他们仍然没有枪毙他。
问题在于，军事当局不敢执行判决。全镇的愤怒情绪使他们想到，处决奥雷连诺上校，不仅在马孔多，而且在整个沼泽地带，都会引起严重的政治后果。因此，他们就向省城请示。星期六晚上，还没接到回答的时候，罗克.卡尼瑟洛上尉和其他几名军官一起前往卡塔林诺游艺场。在所有的娘儿们中，只有一个被他吓怕了的同意把他领进她的房间。“她们都不愿意跟就要死的人睡觉，”她解释说。“谁也不知道这是怎么回事，可是周围的人都说，枪决奥雷连诺上校的军官和行刑队所有的士兵，或早或迟准会接二连三地遭到暗杀，即使他们躲到天涯海角。”罗克.卡尼瑟洛上尉向其他的军官提到了这一点，他们又报告了上级。星期日，军事当局一点没有破坏马孔多紧张的宁静空气，虽然谁也没有向谁公开谈到什么，但是全镇的人已经知道，军官们不想承担责任，准备利用一切借口避免参加行刑。星期一，邮局送来了书面命令：判决必须在二十四小时之内执行。晚上，军官们把七张写上自己名字的纸片扔在一顶军帽里抽彩，罗克.卡尼瑟洛倒霉的运气使他中了彩。“命运是无法逃避的，”上尉深感苦恼说。“我生为婊子的儿子，死也为婊子的儿子。”早晨五时，也用抓阄儿的办法，他挑选了一队士兵，让他们排列在院子里，用例行的话叫醒了判处死刑的人。
“走吧，奥雷连诺，”他说。“时刻到啦。”
“哦！原来如此，”上校回答。“我梦见我的脓疮溃烂啦。”
自从知道奥雷连诺要遭枪决，雷贝卡每天都是清晨三点起床。卧室里一片漆黑，霍.阿卡蒂奥的鼾声把床铺震得直颤，她却坐在床上，透过微开的窗子观察墓地的墙壁。她坚持不懈地暗暗等了一个星期，就象过去等待皮埃特罗.克列斯比的信函一样。“他们不会在这儿枪毙他的，”霍.阿卡蒂奥向她说。为了不让别人知道谁开的枪，他们会利用深夜在兵营里处决他，并且埋在那儿。”雷贝卡继续等待。“那帮无耻的坏蛋准会在这儿枪毙他，”她回答。她很相信这一点，甚至想把房门稍微打开一些，以便向死刑犯挥手告别。“他们不会只让六名胆怯的士兵押着他走过街道的，”霍.阿卡蒂奥坚持说道。“因为他们知道老百姓什么都干得出来。”雷贝卡对丈夫所说的道理听而不闻，继续守在窗口。
“你会看见这帮坏蛋多么可耻，”她说。
星期二早晨五点钟，霍.阿卡蒂奥喝完咖啡，放出狗去的时候，雷贝卡突然关上窗子，抓住床头，免得跌倒。“他们带他来啦，”她叹息一声。“他多神气啊。” 霍.阿卡蒂奥看了看窗外，突然战栗一下；在惨白的晨光中，他瞧见了弟弟，弟弟穿着他霍.阿卡蒂奥年轻时穿过的裤子。奥雷连诺已经双手叉腰站在墙边，腋下火烧火燎的脓疮妨碍他把手放下。“挨苦受累，受尽折磨，”奥雷连诺上校自言自语地说，“都是为了让这六个杂种把你打死，而你毫无办法。”他一再重复这句话，而罗克.卡尼瑟洛上尉却把他的愤怒当成宗教热情，以为他在祈祷，因而深受感动。士兵们举枪瞄准的时候，奥雷连诺上校的怒火止息了，嘴里出现了一种粘滞、苦涩的东西，使得他的舌头麻木了，两眼也闭上了。铝色的晨光忽然消失，他又看见自己是个穿着裤衩、扎着领结的孩子，看见父亲在一个晴朗的下午带他去吉卜赛人的帐篷，于是他瞧见了冰块。当他听到一声喊叫时，他以为这是上尉给行刑队的最后命令。他惊奇地睁开眼来，料想他的视线会遇见下降的弹道，但他只发现罗克.卡尼瑟洛上尉与霍.阿卡蒂奥，前者举着双手呆立不动，后者拿着准备射击的可怕的猎枪跑过街道。
“别开枪，”上尉向霍.阿卡蒂奥说，“你是上帝派来的嘛。”
从这时起，又开始了一场战争。罗克.卡尼瑟洛上尉和六名士兵，跟奥雷连诺上校一起前去营救在列奥阿察判处死刑的革命将军维克多里奥.麦丁纳。为了赢得时间，他们决定沿着霍.阿.布恩蒂亚建立马孔多村之前经过的道路，翻过山岭。可是没过一个星期，他们就已明白这是作不到的事。最后，他们不得不从山上危险的地方悄悄地过去，虽然他们的子弹寥寥无几，——只有士兵们领来行刑的那一些。他们将在城镇附近扎营，派一个人乔装打扮，手里拿着一条小金鱼，天一亮就到路上去溜达，跟潜伏的自由党人建立联系：这些自由党人清晨出来“打猎”，是从来都不回去的。可是，当他从山梁上终于望见列奥阿察的时候，维克多里奥.麦丁纳将军已被枪决了。奥雷连诺上校的追随者宣布他为加勒比海沿岸革命军总司令，头衔是将军。他同意接受这个职位，可是拒绝了将军头衔，并且说定在推翻保守党政府之前不接受这个头衔。在三个月当中，他武装了一千多人，可是几乎都牺牲了。幸存的人越过了东部边境。随后知道，他们离开了安的列斯群岛（注：在西印度群岛），在维拉角登陆，重新回到国内；在这之后不久，政府的报喜电报就发到全国各地，宣布奥雷连诺上校死亡。又过了两天，一份挺长的电报几乎赶上了前一份电报，报告了南部平原上新的起义。因此产生了奥雷连诺上校无处不在的传说。同一时间传来了互相矛盾的消息：上校在比利亚努埃瓦取得了胜利；在古阿卡马耶尔遭到了失败；被摩蒂龙部落的印第安人吃掉；死于沼泽地带的一个村庄；重新在乌鲁米特发动了起义。这时，自由党领袖正在跟政府举行关于容许自由党人进入国会的谈判，宣布他为冒险分子，不能代表他们的党。政府把他算做强盗，悬赏五千比索取他的首级。在十六次失败以后，奥雷连诺上校率领两千装备很好的印第安人，离开瓜希拉，进攻列奥阿察，惊惶失措的警备队逃出了这个城市。奥雷连诺把司令部设在列奥阿察，宣布了反对保守党人的全民战争。政府给他的第一个正式回电向他威胁说，如果起义部队不撤到东部边境，四十八小时之后就要枪决格林列尔多.马克斯上校。罗克.卡尼瑟洛上校这时已经成了参谋长，他把这份电报交给总司令的时候，神色十分沮丧，可是奥雷连诺看了电报却意外地高兴。
“好极了！”他惊叫一声。“咱们马孔多有了电报局啦！”
奥雷连诺上校的答复是坚决的：过三个月，他打算把自己的司令部迁到马孔多。那时，如果他没有看见格林列尔多.马克斯上校活着，他将不经审讯枪毙所有被俘的军官，首先拿被俘的将军开刀，而且他将命令部下直到战争结束都这样干。三个月以后，奥雷连诺的军队胜利地进入马孔多时，在通往沼泽地带的道路上，拥抱他的第一个人就是格林列尔多.马克斯上校。
布恩蒂亚家里挤满了孩子。乌苏娜收留了圣索菲娅.德拉佩德以及她的一个大女儿和一对孪生子，这对孪生子是阿卡蒂奥枪毙之后过了五个月出世的。乌苏娜不顾他的最后愿望，把小姑娘取名叫雷麦黛丝。“我相信这是阿卡蒂奥的意思，”她辩解地说。“咱们没有叫她乌苏娜，因为她取了这个名字就会苦一辈子。”孪生子叫做霍.阿卡蒂奥第二和奥雷连诺第二。阿玛兰塔自愿照顾这几个孩子。她在客厅里摆了一些小木椅，再把左邻右舍的孩子聚集起来，成立了一个托儿所。在僻啪的爆竹声和当当的钟声中，奥雷连诺上校进城的时候，一个儿童合唱队在家宅门口欢迎他。奥雷连诺.霍塞象他祖父一样高大，穿着革命军的军官制服，按照规矩向奥雷连诺行了军礼。
并非一切消息都是好的。奥雷连诺上校逃脱枪毙之后过了一年，霍.阿卡蒂奥和雷贝卡就迁进了阿卡蒂奥建成的房子。谁也不知道霍.阿卡蒂奥救了上校的命，新房子座落在市镇广场最好的地方，在一棵杏树的浓荫下面；知更鸟在树上筑了三个巢：房子有一道正门和四扇窗子。夫妇俩把这儿搞成了一个好客之家。雷贝卡的老朋友，其中包括摩斯柯特家的四姊妹（她们至今还没结婚）．又到这儿来一起绣花了，她们的聚会是几年前在秋海棠长廊上中断的。霍.阿卡蒂奥继续使用侵占的土地，保守党政府承认了他的土地所有权，每天傍晚都可看见他骑着马回来，后面是一群猎犬：他带着一支双筒枪，鞍上系着一串野兔。九月里的一天，快要临头的暴雨使他不得不比平常早一点回家。他在饭厅里跟雷贝卡打了个招呼，把狗拴在院里，将兔子拿进厨房去等着腌起来，就到卧室去换衣服。后来，据雷贝卡说，丈夫走进卧室的时候，她在浴室里洗澡，什么也不知道。这种说法是值得怀疑的，可是谁也想不出其它更近情理的原因，借以说明雷贝卡为什么要打死一个使她幸福的人。这大概是马孔多始终没有揭穿的唯一秘密。霍.阿卡蒂奥刚刚带上卧室的门，室内就响起了手枪声。门下溢出一股血，穿过客厅，流到街上，沿着凹凸不平的人行道前进，流下石阶，爬上街沿，顺着土耳其人街奔驰，往右一弯，然后朝左一拐，径直踅向布恩蒂亚的房子，在关着的房门下面挤了进去，绕过客厅，贴着墙壁（免得弄脏地毯），穿过起居室，在饭厅的食桌旁边画了条曲线，沿着秋海棠长廊婉蜒行进，悄悄地溜过阿玛兰塔的椅子下面（她正在教奥雷连诺.霍塞学习算术），穿过库房，进了厨房（乌苏娜正在那儿准备打碎三十六只鸡蛋来做面包）。
“我的圣母！”乌苏娜一声惊叫。
于是，她朝着血液流来的方向往回走，想弄清楚血是从哪儿来的：她穿过库房，经过秋海棠长廊（奥雷连诺.霍塞正在那儿大声念：3十3＝6，6十3＝9），过了饭厅和客厅，沿着街道一直前进，然后往右拐，再向左拐，到了土耳其人街；她一直没有发觉，她是系着围裙、穿着拖鞋走过市镇的；然后，她到了市镇广场，走进她从来没有来过的房子，推开卧室的门，一股火药味呛得她喘不过气来；接着，她瞧见了趴在地板上的儿子，身体压着他已脱掉的长统皮靴；而且她还看见，已经停止流动的一股血，是从他的右耳开始的。在霍.阿卡蒂奥的尸体上，没有发现一点伤痕，无法确定他是被什么武器打死的。让尸体摆脱强烈的火药味，也没办到，虽然先用刷子和肥皂擦了三次，然后又用盐和醋擦，随后又用灰和柠檬汁擦，最后拿一桶碱水把它泡了六个小时。这样反复擦来擦去，皮肤上所刺的奇异花纹就明显地褪色了。他们采取极端的办法——给尸体加上胡椒、茴香和月桂树叶，放在微火上焖了整整一天，尸体已经开始腐烂，他们才不得不把它慌忙埋掉。死人是密封在特制棺材里的，棺材长二米三十公分，宽一米十公分，内部用铁皮加固，并且拿钢质螺钉拧紧。但是尽管如此，送葬队伍在街上行进的时候，还能闻到火药味。尼康诺神父肝脏肿得象个鼓似的，在床上给死者作了祈祷。随后，他们又给坟围了几层砖，在所有的间隙里填满灰渣、锯屑和生石灰，但是许多年里坟墓依然发出火药味，直到香蕉公司的工程师们给坟堆浇上一层钢筋混凝土，棺材刚刚抬出，雷贝卡就闩上房门，与世隔绝了，她穿上了藐视整个世界的“甲胄”，这身“甲胄”是世上的任何诱惑力都穿不透的。她只有一次走上街头，那时她已经是个老妇，穿着一双旧的银色鞋子，戴着一顶小花帽。当时，一个流浪的犹太人经过马孔多，带来了那么酷烈的热浪，以致鸟儿都从窗上的铁丝网钻到屋里，掉到地上死了。雷贝卡活着的时候，人家最后一次看见她是在那天夜里，当时她用准确的射击打死了一个企图撬她房门的小偷。后来，除了她的女佣人和心腹朋友阿金尼达，谁也没有遇见过她。有个时候，有人说她曾写信给一个主教（她认为他是她的表兄），可是没有听说她收到过回信。镇上的人都把她给忘了。
尽管奥雷连诺上校是凯旋归来的，但是表面的顺利并没有迷惑住他。政府军未经抵抗就放弃了他们的阵地，这就给同情自由党的居民造成胜利的幻觉，这种幻觉虽然是不该消除的，但是起义的人知道真情，奥雷连诺上校则比他们任何人都更清楚。他统率了五千多名士兵，控制了沿海两州，但他明白自己被截断了与其他地区的联系，给挤到了海滨，处于十分含糊的政治地位，所以，当他下令修复政府军大炮毁坏的教堂钟楼时，难怪患病的尼康诺神父在床上说：“真是怪事——基督教徒毁掉教堂，共济会员却下令重建。”为了寻求出路，奥雷连诺上校一连几个小时呆在电报室里，跟其他起义部队的指挥官商量，而每次离开电报室，他都越来越相信战争陷入了绝境。每当得到起义者胜利的消息，他们都兴高采烈地告诉人民，可是奥雷连诺上校在地图上测度了这些胜利的真实价值之后，却相信他的部队正在深入丛林，而且为了防御疟疾和蚊子，正在朝着与现实相反的方向前进。 “咱们正在失去时间，”他向自己的军官们抱怨说。“党内的那些蠢货为自己祈求国会里的席位，咱们还要失去时间。”在他不久以前等待枪决的房间里悬着一个吊铺，每当不眠之夜仰卧铺上时，奥雷连诺上校都往想象那些身穿黑色衣服的法学家——他们如何在冰冷的清晨走出总统的府邸，把大衣领子翻到耳边，搓着双手，窃窃私语，并且躲到昏暗的通宵咖啡馆去，反复推测：总统说“是”的时候，真正想说什么；总统说“不”的时候，又真正想说什么，他们甚至猜测：总统所说的跟他所想的完全相反时，他所想的究竟是什么；然而与此同时，他奥雷连诺上校却在三十五度的酷热里驱赶蚊子，感到可怕的黎明正在一股脑儿地逼近：随着黎明的到来，他不得不向自己的部队发出跳海的命令。
在这样一个充满疑虑的夜晚，听到皮拉.苔列娜跟士兵们在院子里唱歌，他就请她占卜。“当心你的嘴巴，”皮拉.苔列娜摊开纸牌，然后又把纸牌收拢起来，摆弄了三次才说，“我不知道这是什么意思，但征兆是很明显的。当心你的嘴巴。”过了两天，有人把一杯无糖的咖啡给一个勤务兵，这个勤务兵把它传给另一个勤务兵，第二个勤务兵又拿它传给第三个勤务兵，传来传去，最后出现在奥雷连诺上校的办
