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。 ？rsula became alarmed。 “If Aureliano says so it’s because Aureliano knows；？she said。 And she had them help her take Jos？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； Jos？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。 ？rsula 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 e 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； Jos？Arcadio Buendía consoled himself with the dream of 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 another exactly alike； and so on to infinity。 He liked to go from room to room。 As in a gallery of 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 ？rsula was bringing him his breakfast when she saw a man ing 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；？？rsula 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 e back； and he answered her in their solemn language：
“I have e for the exequies of the king。？
Then they went into Jos？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 pact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by。
Chapter 8
SITTNG IN THE WICKER ROCKING chair with her interrupted work in her lap； Amaranta watched Aureliano； Jos？； his chin covered with foam； stropping his razor to give himself his first shave。 His blackheads bled and he cut his upper lip as he tried to shape a mustache of blond fuzz and when it was all over he looked the same as before； but the laborious process gave Amaranta the feeling that she had begun to grow old at that moment。
“You look just like Aureliano when he was your age；？she said。 “You’re a man now。？
He had been for a long time； ever since that distant day when Amaranta thought he was still a child and continued getting undressed in front of him in the bathroom as she had always done； as she had been used to doing ever since Pilar Ternera had turned him over to her to finish his upbringing。 The first time that he saw her the only thing that drew his attention was the deep depression between her breasts。 He was so innocent that he asked her what had happened to her and Amaranta pretended to dig into her breasts with the tips of her fingers and answered： “They gave me some terrible cuts。？Some time later； when she had recovered from Pietro Crespi’s suicide and would bathe with Aureliano Jos？again； he no longer paid attention to the depression but felt a strange trembling at the sight of the splendid breasts with their brown nipples。 He kept on examining her； discovering the miracle of her intimacy inch by inch； and he felt his skin tingle as he contemplated the way her skin tingled when it touched the water。 Ever since he was a small child he had the custom of leaving his hammock and waking up in Amaranta’s bed； because contact with her was a way of overing his fear of the dark。 But since that day when he became aware of his own nakedness； it was not fear of the dark that drove him to crawl in under her mosquito netting but an urge to feel Amaranta’s warm breathing at dawn。 Early one morning during the time when she refused Colonel Gerineldo Márquez； Aureliano Jos？awoke with the feeling that he could not breathe。 He felt Amaranta’s fingers searching across his stomach like warm and anxious little caterpillars。 Pretending to sleep； he changed his position to make it easier； and then he felt the hand without the black bandage diving like a blind shellfish into the algae of his anxiety。 Although they seemed to ignore what both of them knew and what each one knew that the other knew； from that night on they were yoked together in an inviolable plicity。 Aureliano Jos？could not get to sleep until he heard the twelve…o’clock waltz on the parlor dock； and the mature maiden whose skin was beginning to grow sad did not have a moments？rest until she felt slip in under her mosquito netting that sleepwalker whom she had raised； not thinking that he would be a palliative for her solitude。 Later they not only slept together； naked； exchanging exhausting caresses； but they would also chase each other into the corners of the house and shut themselves up in the bedrooms at any hour of the day in a permanent state of unrelieved excitement。 They were almost discovered by ？rsula one afternoon when she went into the granary as they were starting to kiss。 “Do you love your aunt a lot？？she asked Aureliano Jos？in an innocent way。 He answered that he did。 “That’s good of you；？？rsula concluded and finished measuring the flour for the bread and returned to the kitchen。 That episode drew Amaranta out of her delirium。 She realized that she had gone too far； that she was no longer playing kissing games with a child； but was floundering about in an autumnal passion； one that was dangerous and had no future； and she cut it off with one stroke。 Aureliano Jos？ who was then finishing his military training； finally woke up to reality and went to sleep in the barracks。 On Saturdays he would go with the soldiers to Catarino’s store。 He was seeking consolation for his abrupt solitude； for his premature adolescence with women who smelled of dead flowers； whom he idealized in the darkness and changed into Amaranta by means of the anxious efforts of his imagination。
A short time later contradictory news of the war began to e in。 While the government itself admitted the progress of the rebellion； the officers in Macondo had confidential repo