1MEME’S LAST VACATIONS coincided with the period of mourning for Colonel Aureliano Buendia.

2The shuttered house was no place for parties. They spoke in whispers, ate in silence, recited the

3rosary three times a day, and even clavichord practice during the heat of siesta time had a funereal

4echo. In spite of her secret hostility toward the colonel, it was Fernanda who imposed the rigor of

5that mourning, impressed by the solemnity with which the government exalted the memory of its

6dead enemy. Aureliano Segundo, as was his custom came back to sleep in the house during his

7daughter’s vacation and Fernanda must have done some, thing to regain her privileges as his

8legitimate wife because the following year Meme found a newborn little sister who against the

9wishes of her mother had been baptized with the name Amaranta Ursula.

10Meme had finished her course of study. The diploma that certified her as a concert clavichordist

11was ratified by the virtuosity with which she executed popular melodies of the seventeenth century

12at the gathering organized to celebrate the completion of her studies and with which the period of

13mourning came to in end. More than her art, the guests admired her duality. Her frivolous and even

14slightly infantile character did not seem up to any serious activity, but when she sat down at the

15clavichord she became a different girl, one whose unforeseen maturity gave her the air of an adult.

16That was how she had always been. She really did am have any definite vocation, but she had earned

17the highest grades by means of inflexible discipline simply in order not to annoy her mother. They

18could have imposed on her an apprenticeship in any other field and the results would have been the

19same. Since she had been very small she had been troubled by Fernanda’s strictness, her custom of

20deciding in favor of extremes; and she would have been capable of a much more difficult sacrifice

21than the clavichord lessons merely not to run up against her intransigence. During the graduation

22ceremonies she had the impression that the parchment with Gothic letters and illuminated capitals

23was freeing her from a compromise that she had accepted not so much out of obedience as out of

24convenience, and she thought that from then on not even the insistent Fernanda would worry any

25more about an instmment that even the nuns looked upon as a museum fossil. During the first years

26she thought that her calculations were mistaken because after she had put half the town to sleep, not

27only in the parlor but also at all charitable functions, school ceremonies, and patriotic celebrations

28that took place in Macondo, her mother still invited to the house every newcomer whom she

29thought capable of appreciating her daughter’s virtues. Only after the death of Amaranta, when the

30family shut itself up again in a period of mourning, was Meme able to lock the clavichord and forget

31the key in some dresser drawer without Fernanda’s being annoyed on finding out when and through

32whose fault it had been lost. Meme bore up under the exhibitions with the same stoicism that she

33had dedicated to her apprenticeship. It was the price of her freedom. Fernanda was so pleased with

34her docility and so proud of the admiration that her art inspired that she was never against the house

35being fall of girl friends, her spending the afternoon in the groves, and going to the movies with

36Aureliano Segundo or some muted lady as long as the film was approved by Father Antonio Isabel

37from the pulpit. During those moments of relaxation Meme’s real tastes were revealed. Her

38happiness lay at the other extreme from discipline, in noisy parties, in gossip about lovers, in

39prolonged sessions with her girl friends, where they learned to smoke and talked about male

40business, and where they once got their hands on some cane liquor and ended up naked, measuring

41and comparing the parts of their bodies. Meme would never forget that night when she arrived

42home chewing licorice lozenges, and without noticing their consternation, sat down at the table

43where Fernanda and Amaranta were eating dinner without saying a word to each other. She had

44spent two tremendous hours in the bedroom of a girl friend, weeping with laughter and fear, and

45beyond an crises she had found the rare feeling of. bravery that she needed in order to run away

46from school and tell her mother in one way or another that she could use the clavichord as an

47enema. Sitting at the head of the table, drinking a chicken broth that landed in her stomach like an

48elixir of resurrection, Meme then saw Fernanda and Amaranta wrapped in an accusatory halo of

49reality. She had to make a great effort not to throw at them their prissiness, their poverty of spirit

50their delusions of grandeur. From the time of her second vacation she had known that her father

51was living at home only in order to keep up appearances, and knowing Fernanda as she did and

52having arranged later to meet Petra Cotes, she thought that her father was right. She also would have

53preferred being the daughter of the concubine. In the haziness of the alcohol Meme thought with

54pleasure about the scandal that would have taken place if she were to express her thoughts at that

55moment, and the intimate satisfaction of her roguishness was so intense that Fernanda noticed it.

56“What’s the matter?” she asked.

57“Nothing,” Meme answered. “I was only now discovering how much I loved you both.”

58Amaranta was startled by the obvious burden of hate that the declaration carried. But Fernanda

59felt so moved that she thought she would go mad when Meme awoke at midnight with her head

60splitting with pain and drowning in vomited gall. She gave her a vial of castor oil, put compresses on

61her stomach and ice cubes on her head, and she made her stay in bed for five days and follow the

62diet ordered by the new and outlandish French doctor, who after examining her for more than two

63hours reached the foggy conclusion that she had an ailment peculiar to women. Having lost her

64courage, in a miserable state of demoralization, Meme had no other recourse but to bear up under it.

65Ursula, completely blind by then but still active and lucid, was the only one who guessed the exact

66diagnosis. “As far as I can see,” she thought, “that’s the same thing that happens to drunken

67people.” But she not only rejected the idea, she reproached herself for the frivolity of her thought.

68Aureliano Segundo felt a twinge of conscience when he saw Meme’s state of prostration and he

69promised himself to take better care of her in the future. That was how the relationship of jolly

70comradeship was born between father and daughter, which freed him for a time from the bitter

71solitude of his revels and freed her from Fernanda’s watchful eye without necessity of provoking the

72domestic crisis that seemed inevitable by then. At that time Aureliano Segundo postponed any

73appointments in order to be with Meme, to take her to the movies or the circus, and he spent the

74greater part of his idle time with her. In recent times his annoyance with the absurd obesity that

75prevented him from tying his shoes and his abusive satisfaction with all manner of appetites had

76began to sour his character. The discovery of his daughter restored his former joviality and the

77pleasure of being with her was slowly leading him away from dissipation. Meme was entering a

78fruitful age. She was not beautiful, as Amaranta had never been, but on the other hand she was

79pleasant, uncomplicated, and she had the virtue of making a good impression on people from the

80first moment. She had a modem spirit that wounded the antiquated sobriety and poorly disguised

81miserly heart of Fernanda, and that, on the other hand, Aureliano Segundo took pleasure in

82developing. It was he who resolved to take her out of the bedroom she had occupied since

83childhood, where the fearful eyes of the saints still fed her adolescent terrors, and he furnished for

84her a room with a royal bed, a large dressing table, and velvet curtains, not realizing that he was

85producing a second version of Petra Cotes’s room. He was so lavish with Meme that he did not

86even know how much money he gave her because she herself would take it out of his pockets, and

87he kept abreast of every kind of new beauty aid that arrived in the commissary of the banana

88company. Meme’s room became filled with pumice-stone cushions to polish her nails with, hair

89curlers, toothbrushes, drops to make her eyes languid, and so many and such new cosmetics and

90artifacts of beauty that every time Fernanda went into the room she was scandalized by the idea that

91her daughter’s dressing table must have been the same as those of the French matrons. Nevertheless

92Fernanda divided her time in those days between little Amaranta Ursula, who was mischievous and

93sickly, and a touching correspondence with the invisible physicians. So that when she noticed the

94complicity between father and daughter the only promise she extracted from Aureliano Segundo was

95that he would never take Meme to Petra Cotes’s house. It was a meaningless demand because the

96concubine was so annoyed with the comradeship between her lover and his daughter that she did

97not want anything to do with her. Petra was tormented by an unknown fear, as if instinct were

98telling her that Meme, by just wanting it, could succeed in what Fernanda had been unable to do:

99deprive her of a love that by then she considered assured until death. For the first time Aureliano

100Segundo had to tolerate the harsh expressions and the violent tirades of his concubine, and he was

101even afraid that his wandering trunks would make the return journey to his wife’s house. That did

102not happen. No one knew a man better than Petra Cotes knew her lover and she knew that the

103trunks would remain where they had been sent because if Aureliano Segundo detested anything it

104was complicating his life with modifications and changes. So the tmnks stayed where they were and

105Petra Cotes set about reconquering the husband by sharpening the only weapons that his daughter

106could not use on him. It too was an unnecessary effort because Meme had no desire to intervene in

107her father’s affairs and if she had, it would certainly have been in favor of the concubine. She had no

108time to bother anybody. She herself swept her room and made her bed, as the nuns had taught her.

109In the morning she took care of her clothes, sewing on the porch or using Amaranta’s old pedal

110machine. While the others were taking their siestas she would practice the clavichord for two hours,

111knowing that the daily sacrifice would keep Fernanda calm. For the same reason she continued

112giving concerts at church fairs and school parties, even though the requests were less and less

113frequent. At nightfall she would fix herself up, put on one of her simple dresses and her stiff high

114shoes, and if she had nothing to do with her father she would go to the homes of her girl friends,

115where she would stay until dinnertime. It was rare that Aureliano Segundo would not call for her

116then to take her to the movies.

117Among Meme’s friends there were three young American girls who broke through the electrified

118chicken fence barrier and made friends with girls from Macondo. One of them was Patricia Brown.

119Grateful for the hospitality of Aureliano Segundo, Mr. Brown opened the doors of his house to

120Meme and invited her to the Saturday dances, which were the only ones where gringos and natives

121mingled. When Fernanda found out about it she forgot about Amaranta Ursula and the invisible

122doctors for a moment and became very melodramatic. “Just think,” she said to Meme, “what the

123colonel must be thinking in his grave.” She sought, of course, the backing of Ursula. But the blind

124old woman, contrary to what everyone expected, saw nothing reproachable in Meme’s going to the

125dances and making friends with American girls her own age as long as she kept her strict habits and

126was not converted to the Protestant religion. Meme sensed the thought of her great-great-

127grandmother very well and the day after the dances she would get up earlier than usual to go to

128mass. Fernanda’s opposition lasted until the day when Meme broke down her resistance with the

129news that the Americans wanted to hear her play the clavichord. The instmment was taken out of

130the house again and carried to Mr. Brown’s, where the young concert artist really did receive very

131sincere applause and the most enthusiastic congratulations. From then on she was invited not only

132to the dances but also to the Sunday swim parties in the pool and to lunch once a week. Meme

133learned to swim like a professional, to play tennis, and to eat Virginia ham with slices of pineapple.

134Among dances, swimming, and tennis she soon found herself getting involved in the English

135language. Aureliano Segundo was so enthusiastic over the progress of his daughter that from a

136traveling salesman he bought a six-volume English encyclopedia with many color prints which

137Meme read in her spare time. The reading occupied the attention that she had formerly given to

138gossip about sweethearts and the experimental retreats that she would go through with her girl

139friends, not because it was imposed as discipline but because she had lost all interest by then in

140talking about mysteries that were in the public domain. She looked back on the drunken episode as

141an infantile adventure and it seemed so funny to her that she told Aureliano Segundo about it and he

142thought it was more amusing than she did. “If your mother only knew,” he told her, doubling up

143with laughter, as he always said when he told her something in confidence. He had made her

144promise that she would let him know about her first love affair with the same confidence, and

145Meme told him that she liked a redheaded American boy who had come to spend his vacation with

146his parents. “What do you know,” Aureliano Segundo said, laughing. “If your mother only knew.”

147But Meme also told him that the boy had gone back to his country and had disappeared from sight.

148The maturity of her judgment ensured peace in the family. Aureliano Segundo then devoted more

149time to Petra Cotes, and although his body and soul no longer permitted him the debauches of days

150gone by, he lost no chance to arrange them and to dig out the accordion, which by then had some

151keys held in place by shoelaces. At home, Amaranta was weaving her interminable shroud and

152Ursula dragged about in her decrepitude through the depths of the shadows where the only thing

153that was still visible was the ghost of Jose Arcadio Buendfa under the chestnut tree. Fernanda

154consolidated her authority. Her monthly letters to her son Jose Arcadio at that time did not carry a

155string of lies and she hid from him only her correspondence with the invisible doctors, who had

156diagnosed a benign tumor in her large intestine and were preparing her for a telepathic operation.

157It might have been aid that peace and happiness reigned for a long time in the tired mansion of

158the Buendfas if it had not been for the sudden death of Amaranta, which caused a new uproar. It

159was an unexpected event. Although she was old and isolated from everyone, she still looked firm

160and upright and with the health of a rock that she had always had. No one knew her thoughts since

161the afternoon on which she had given Colonel Gerineldo Marquez his final rejection and shut

162herself up to weep. She was not seen to cry during the ascension to heaven of Remedios the Beauty

163or over the extermination of the Aurelianos or the death of Colonel Aureliano Buendfa, who was the

164person she loved most in this world, although she showed it only when they found his body under

165the chestnut tree. She helped pick up the body. She dressed him in his soldier’s uniform, shaved

166him, combed his hair, and waxed his mustache better than he had ever done in his days of glory. No

167one thought that there was any love in that act because they were accustomed to the familiarity of

168Amaranta with the rites of death. Fernanda was scandalized that she did not understand the

169relationship of Catholicism with life but only its relationship with death, as if it were not a religion

170but a compendium of funeral conventions. Amaranta was too wrapped up in the eggplant patch of

171her memories to understand those subtle apologetics. She had reached old age with all of her

172nostalgias intact. When she listened to the waltzes of Pietro Crespi she felt the same desire to weep

173that she had had in adolescence, as if time and harsh lessons had meant nothing. The rolls of music

174that she herself had thrown into the trash with the pretext that they had rotted from dampness kept

175spinning and playing in her memory. She had tried to sink them into the swampy passion that she

176allowed herself with her nephew Aureliano Jose and she tried to take refuge in the calm and virile

177protection of Colonel Gerineldo Marquez, but she had not been able to overcome them, not even

178with the most desperate act of her old age when she would bathe the small Jose Arcadio three years

179before he was sent to the seminary and caress him not as a grandmother would have done with a

180grandchild, but as a woman would have done with a man, as it was said that the French matrons did

181and as she had wanted to do with Pietro Crespi at the age of twelve, fourteen, when she saw him in

182his dancing tights and with the magic wand with which he kept time to the metronome. At times It

183pained her to have let that outpouring of misery follow its course, and at times it made her so angry

184that she would prick her fingers with the needles, but what pained her most and enraged her most

185and made her most bitter was the fragrant and wormy guava grove of love that was dragging her

186toward death. Just as Colonel Aureliano Buendia thought about his war, unable to avoid it, so

187Amaranta thought about Rebeca. But while her brother had managed to sterilize his memories, she

188had only managed to make hers more scalding. The only thing that she asked of God for many years

189was that he would not visit on her the punishment of dying before Rebeca. Every time she passed by

190her house and noted the progress of destruction she took comfort in the idea that God was listening

191to her. One afternoon, when she was sewing on the porch, she was assailed by the certainty that she

192would be sitting in that place, in the same position, and under the same light when they brought her

193the news of Rebeca’s death. She sat down to wait for it, as one waits for a letter, and the fact was

194that at one time she would pull off buttons to sew them on again so that inactivity would not make

195the wait longer and more anxious. No one in the house realized that at that time Amaranta was

196sewing a fine shroud for Rebeca. Later on, when Aureliano Triste told how he had seen her changed

197into an apparition with leathery skin and a few golden threads on her skull, Amaranta was not

198surprised because the specter described was exactly what she had been imagining for some time. She

199had decided to restore Rebeca’s corpse, to disguise with paraffin the damage to her face and make a

200wig for her from the hair of the saints. She would manufacture a beautiful corpse, with the linen

201shroud and a plush-lined coffin with purple trim, and she would put it at the disposition of the

202worms with splendid funeral ceremonies. She worked out the plan with such hatred that it made her

203tremble to think about the scheme, which she would have carried out in exactly the same way if it

204had been done out of love, but she would not allow herself to become upset by the confusion and

205went on perfecting the details so minutely that she came to be more than a specialist and was a

206virtuoso in the rites of death. The only thing that she did not keep In mind in her fearsome plan was

207that in spite of her pleas to God she might die before Rebeca. That was, in fact, what happened. At

208the final moment, however, Amaranta did not feel frustrated, but on the contrary, free of all

209bitterness because death had awarded her the privilege of announcing itself several years ahead of

210time. She saw it on one burning afternoon sewing with her on the porch a short time after Meme

211had left for school. She saw it because it was a woman dressed in blue with long hair, with a sort of

212antiquated look, and with a certain resemblance to Pilar Ternera during the time when she had

213helped with the chores in the kitchen. Fernanda was present several times and did not see her, in

214spite of the fact that she was so real, so human, and on one occasion asked of Amaranta the favor of

215threading a needle. Death did not tell her when she was going to die or whether her hour was

216assigned before that of Rebeca, but ordered her to begin sewing her own shroud on the next sixth of

217April. She was authorized to make it as complicated and as fine as she wanted, but just as honestly

218executed as Rebeca’s, and she was told that she would die without pain, fear, or bitterness at dusk on

219the day that she finished it. Trying to waste the most time possible, Amaranta ordered some rough

220flax and spun the thread herself. She did it so carefully that the work alone took four years. Then she

221started the sewing. As she got closer to the unavoidable end she began to understand that only a

222miracle would allow her to prolong the work past Rebeca’s death, but the very concentration gave

223her the calmness that she needed to accept the idea of frustration. It was then that she understood

224the vicious circle of Colonel Aureliano Buendfa’s little gold fishes. The world was reduced to the

225surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness. It pained her not to have had that

226revelation many years before when it had still been possible to purify memories and reconstmct the

227universe under a new light and evoke without trembling Pietro Crespi’s smell of lavender at dusk

228and rescue Rebeca from her slough of misery, not out of hatred or out of love but because of the

229measureless understanding of solitude. The hatred that she noticed one night in Memes words did

230not upset her because it was directed at her, but she felt the repetition of another adolescence that

231seemed as clean as hers must have seemed and that, however, was already tainted with rancor. But

232by then her acceptance of her fate was so deep that she was not even upset by the certainty that all

233possibilities of rectification were closed to her. Her only objective was to finish the shroud. Instead

234of slowing it down with useless detail as she had done in the beginning, she speeded up the work.

235One week before she calculated that she would take the last stitch on the night of February 4, and

236without revealing the motives, she suggested to Meme that she move up a clavichord concert that

237she had arranged for the day after, but the girl paid no attention to her. Amaranta then looked for a

238way to delay for forty-eight hours, and she even thought that death was giving her her way because

239on the night of February fourth a storm caused a breakdown at the power plant. But on the

240following day, at eight in the morning, she took the last stitch in the most beautiful piece of work

241that any woman had ever finished, and she announced without the least bit of dramatics that she

242was going to die at dusk. She not only told the family but the whole town, because Amaranta had

243conceived of the idea that she could make up for a life of meanness with one last favor to the world,

244and she thought that no one was in a better position to take letters to the dead.

245The news that Amaranta Buendia was sailing at dusk carrying the mail of death spread

246throughout Macondo before noon, and at three in the afternoon there was a whole carton full of

247letters in the parlor. Those who did not want to write gave Amaranta verbal messages, which she

248wrote down in a notebook with the name and date of death of the recipient. “Don’t worry,” she told

249the senders. “The first thing I’ll do when I get there is to ask for him and give him your message.” It

250was farcical. Amaranta did not show any upset or the slightest sign of grief, and she even looked a

251bit rejuvenated by a duty accomplished. She was as straight and as thin as ever. If it had not been for

252her hardened cheekbones and a few missing teeth, she would have looked much younger than she

253really was. She herself arranged for them to put the letters in a box sealed with pitch and told them

254to place it in her grave in a way best to protect it from the dampness. In the morning she had a

255carpenter called who took her measurements for the coffin as she stood in the parlor, as if it were

256for a new dress. She showed such vigor in her last hours that Fernanda thought she was making fun

257of everyone. Ursula, with the experience that Buendias died without any illness, did not doubt at all

258that Amaranta had received an omen of death, but in any case she was tormented by the fear that

259with the business of the letters and the anxiety of the senders for them to arrive quickly they would

260bury her alive in their confusion. So she set about clearing out the house, arguing with the intmders

261as she shouted at them, and by four in the afternoon she was successful. At that time Amaranta had

262finished dividing her things among the poor and had left on the severe coffin of unfinished boards

263only the change of clothing and the simple cloth slippers that she would wear in death. She did not

264neglect that precaution because she remembered that when Colonel Aureliano Buendia died they

265had to buy a pair of new shoes for him because all he had left were the bedroom slippers that he

266wore in the workshop. A little before five Aureliano Segundo came to fetch Meme for the concert

267and was surprised that the house was prepared for the funeral, if anyone seemed alive at the moment

268it was the serene Amaranta, who had even had enough time to cut her corns. Aureliano Segundo

269and Meme took leave of her with mocking farewells and promised her that on the following

270Saturday they would have a big resurrection party. Drawn by the public talk that Amaranta Buendia

271was receiving letters for the dead. Father Antonio Isabel arrived at five o’clock for the last rites and

272he had to wait for more than fifteen minutes for the recipient to come out of her bath. When he saw

273her appear in a madapollam nightshirt and with her hair loose over her shoulders, the decrepit parish

274priest thought that it was a trick and sent the altar boy away. He thought however, that he would

275take advantage of the occasion to have Amaranta confess after twenty years of reticence. Amaranta

276answered simply that she did not need spiritual help of any kind because her conscience was clean.

277Fernanda was scandalized. Without caring that people could hear her she asked herself aloud what

278horrible sin Amaranta had committed to make her prefer an impious death to the shame of

279confession. Thereupon Amaranta lay down and made Ursula give public testimony as to her

280virginity.

281“Let no one have any illusions,” she shouted so that Fernanda would hear her. “Amaranta

282Buendia is leaving this world just as she came into it.

283She did not get up again. Lying on cushions, as if she really were ill, she braided her long hair and

284rolled it about her ears as death had told her it should be on her bier. Then she asked Ursula for a

285mirror and for the first time in more than forty years she saw her face, devastated by age and

286martyrdom, and she was surprised at how much she resembled the mental image that she had of

287herself. Ursula understood by the silence in the bedroom that it had begun to grow dark.

288“Say good-bye to Fernanda,” she begged her. One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a

289whole life of friendship. ”

290“It’s of no use now,” Amaranta replied.

291Meme could not help thinking about her when they turned on the lights on the improvised stage

292and she began the second part of the program. In the middle of the piece someone whispered the

293news in her ear and the session stopped. When he arrived home, Aureliano Segundo had to push his

294way through the crowd to see the corpse of the aged virgin, ugly and discolored, with the black

295bandage on her hand and wrapped in the magnificent shroud. She was laid out in the parlor beside

296the box of letters.

297Ursula did not get up again after the nine nights of mourning for Amaranta, Santa Sofia de la

298Piedad took care of her. She took her meals to her bedroom and annatto water for her to wash in

299and she kept her up to date on everything that happened in Macondo. Aureliano Segundo visited her

300frequently and he brought her clothing which she would place beside the bed along with the things

301most indispensable for daily life, so that in a short time she had built up a world within reach of her

302hand. She managed to arouse a great love in little Amaranta Ursula, who was just like her, and whom

303she taught how to read. Her lucidity, the ability to be sufficient un herself made one think that she

304was naturally conquered by the weight of her hundred years, but even though it was obvious that she

305was having trouble seeing, no one suspected that she was totally blind. She had so much time at her

306disposal then and so much interior silence to watch over the life of the house that she was the first

307to notice Meme’s silent tribulation.

308“Come here,” she told her. “Now that were alone, confess to this poor old woman what’s

309bothering you. ”

310Meme avoided the conversation with a short laugh. Ursula did not insist, but she ended up

311confirming her suspicions when Meme did not come back to visit her. She knew that she was getting

312up earlier than usual, that she did not have a moment’s rest as she waited for the time for her to go

313out, that she spent whole nights walking back and forth in the adjoining bedroom, and that the

314fluttering of a butterfly would bother her. On one occasion she said that she was going to see Aureli¬

315ano Segundo and Ursula was surprised that Fernanda’s imagination was so limited when her

316husband came to the house looking for his daughter. It was too obvious that Meme was involved in

317secret matters, in pressing matters, in repressed anxieties long before the night that Fernanda upset

318the house because she caught her kissing a man in the movies.

319Meme was so wrapped up in herself at that time that she accused Ursula of having told on her.

320Actually, she told on herself. For a long time she had been leaving a trail that would have awakened

321the most drowsy person and it took Fernanda so long to discover it because she too was befogged,

322by her relationship with the invisible doctors. Even so she finally noticed the deep silences, the

323sudden outbursts, the changes in mood, and the contradictions of her daughter. She set about on a

324disguised but implacable vigilance. She let her go out with her girl friends as always, she helped her

325get dressed for the Saturday parties, and she never asked an embarrassing question that might arouse

326her. She already had a great deal of proof that Meme was doing different things from what she said,

327and yet she would give no indication of her suspicions, hoping for the right moment. One night

328Meme said that she was going to the movies with her father. A short time later Fernanda heard the

329fireworks of the debauch and the unmistakable accordion of Aureliano Segundo from the direction

330of Petra Cotes’s place. Then she got dressed, went to the movie theater, and in the darkness of the

331seats she recognized her daughter. The upsetting feeling of certainty stopped her from seeing the

332man she was kissing, but she managed to hear his tremulous voice in the midst of the deafening

333shouts and laughter of the audience. “I’m sorry, love,” she heard him say, and she took Meme out of

334the place without saying a word to her, put her through the shame of parading her along the noisy

335Street of the Turks, and locked her up in her bedroom.

336On the following day at six in the afternoon, Fernanda recognized the voice of the man who

337came to call on her. He was young, sallow, with dark and melancholy eyes which would not have

338startled her so much if she had known the gypsies, and a dreamy air that to any woman with a heart

339less rigid would have been enough to make her understand her daughter’s motives. He was wearing

340a shabby linen suit with shoes that showed the desperate defense of superimposed patches of white

341zinc, and in his hand he was carrying a straw hat he had bought the Saturday before. In all of his life

342he could never have been as frightened as at that moment, but he had a dignity and presence that

343spared him from humiliation and a genuine elegance that was defeated only by tarnished hands and

344nails that had been shattered by rough work. Fernanda, however, needed only one look to guess his

345status of mechanic. She saw that he was wearing his one Sunday suit and that underneath his shirt he

346bore the rash of the banana company. She would not let him speak. She would not even let him

347come through the door, which a moment later she had to close because the house was filled with

348yellow butterflies.

349“Go away,” she told him. “You’ve got no reason to come calling on any decent person.”

350His name was Mauricio Babilonia. He had been born and raised in Macondo, and he was an

351apprentice mechanic in the banana company garage. Meme had met him by chance one afternoon

352when she went with Patricia Brown to get a car to take a drive through the groves. Since the

353chauffeur was sick they assigned him to take them and Meme was finally able to satisfy her desire to

354sit next to the driver and see what he did. Unlike the regular chauffeur, Mauricio Babilonia gave her

355a practical lesson. That was during the time that Meme was beginning to frequent Mr. Brown’s

356house and it was still considered improper for a lady to drive a car. So she was satisfied with the

357technical information and she did not see Mauricio Babilonia again for several months. Later on she

358would remember that during the drive her attention had been called to his masculine beauty, except

359for the coarseness of his hands, but that afterward she had mentioned to Patricia Brown that she

360had been bothered by his rather proud sense of security. The first Saturday that she went to the

361movies with her father she saw Mauricio Babilonia again, with his linen suit, sitting a few seats away

362from them, and she noticed that he was not paying much attention to the film in order to turn

363around and look at her. Meme was bothered by the vulgarity of that. Afterward Mauricio Babilonia

364came over to say hello to Aureliano Segundo and only then did Meme find out that they knew each

365other because he had worked in Aureliano Triste’s early power plant and he treated her father with

366the air of an employee. That fact relieved the dislike that his pride had caused in her. They had never

367been alone together nor had they spoken except in way of greeting, the night when she dreamed that

368he was saving her from a shipwreck and she did not feel gratitude but rage. It was as if she had given

369him the opportunity he was waiting for, since Meme yearned for just the opposite, not only with

370Mauricio Babilonia but with any other man who was interested in her. Therefore she was so

371indignant after the dream that instead of hating him, she felt an irresistible urge to see him. The

372anxiety became more intense during the course of the week and on Saturday it was so pressing that

373she had to make a great effort for Mauricio Babilonia not to notice that when he greeted her in the

374movies her heart was in her mouth. Dazed by a confused feeling of pleasure and rage, she gave him

375her hand for the first time and only then did Mauricio Babilonia let himself shake hers. Meme