fishes； ate with great difficulty； and wandered all through the house as if walking in his sleep； dragging his blanket and chewing on his quiet rage。 At the end of three months his hair was ashen； his old waxed mustache poured down beside his colorless lips； but； on the other hand； his eyes were once more the burning coals that had startled those who had seen him born and that in other days had made chairs rock with a simple glance。 In the fury of his torment he tried futilely to rouse the omens that had guided his youth along dangerous paths into the desolate wasteland of glory。 He was lost； astray in a strange house where nothing and no one now stirred in him the slightest vestige of affection。 Once he opened Melquíades？room； looking for the traces of a past from before the war； and he found only rubble； trash； piles of waste accumulated over all the years of abandonment。 Between the covers of the books that no one had ever read again； in the old parchments damaged by dampness； a livid flower had prospered； and in the air that had been the purest and brightest in the house an unbearable smell of rotten memories floated。 One morning he found ？rsula weeping under the chestnut tree at the knees of her dead husband。 Colonel Aureliano Buendía was the only inhabitant of the house who still did not see the powerful old man who had been beaten down by half a century in the open air。 “Say hello to your father；？？rsula told him。 He stopped for an instant in front of the chestnut tree and once again he saw that the empty space before him did not arouse an affection either。
“What does he say？？he asked。
“He’s very sad；？？rsula answered； “because he thinks that you’re going to die。？
“Tell him；？the colonel said； smiling； “that a person doesn’t die when he should but when he can。？
The omen of the； dead father stirred up the last remnant of pride that was left in his heart； but he confused it with a sudden gust of strength。 It was for that reason that he hounded ？rsula to tell him where in the courtyard the gold coins that they had found inside the plaster Saint Joseph were buried。 “You’ll never know；？she told him with a firmness inspired by an old lesson。 “One day；？she added； “the owner of that fortune will appear and only he can dig it up。？No one knew why a man who had always been so generous had begun to covet money with such anxiety； and not the modest amounts that would have been enough to resolve an emergency； but a fortune of such mad size that the mere mention of it left Aureliano Segundo awash in amazement。 His old fellow party members； to whom he went asking for help； hid so as not to receive him。 It was around that time that he was heard to say。 “The only difference today between Liberals and Conservatives is that the Liberals go to mass at five o’clock and the Conservatives at eight。？Nevertheless he insisted with such perseverance； begged in such a way； broke his code of dignity to such a degree； that with a little help from here and a little more from there； sneaking about everywhere； with a slippery diligence and a pitiless perseverance； he managed to put together in eight months more money than ？rsula had buried。 Then he visited the ailing Colonel Gerineldo Márquez so that he would help him start the total war。
At a certain time Colonel Gerineldo Márquez was really the only one who could have pulled； even from his paralytics chair； the musty strings of rebellion。 After the armistice of Neerlandia； while Colonel Aureliano Buendía took refuge with his little gold fishes； he kept in touch with the rebel officers who had been faithful to him until the defeat。 With them he waged the sad war of daily humiliation； of entreaties and petitions； of e…back…tomorrow； of any…time…now； of we’re…studying…your…case…with…the…proper…attention； the war hopelessly lost against the many yours…most…trulys who should have signed and would never sign the lifetime pensions。 The other war； the bloody one of twenty years； did not cause them as much damage as the corrosive war of eternal postponements。 Even Colonel Gerineldo Márquez； who escaped three attempts on his life； survived five wounds； and emerged unscathed from innumerable battles； succumbed to that atrocious siege of waiting and sank into the miserable defeat of old age； thinking of Amaranta among the diamond…shaped patches of light in a borrowed house。 The last veterans of whom he had word had appeared photographed in a newspaper with their faces shamelessly raised beside an anonymous president of the republic who gave them buttons with his likeness on them to wear in their lapels and returned to them a flag soiled with blood and gunpowder so that they could place it on their coffins。 The others； more honorable。 were still waiting for a letter in the shadow of public charity； dying of hunger； living through rage； ratting of old age amid the exquisite shit of glory。 So that when Colonel Aureliano Buendía invited him to start a mortal conflagration that would wipe out all vestiges of a regime of corruption and scandal backed by the foreign invader； Colonel Gerineldo Márquez could not hold back a shudder of passion。
“Oh； Aureliano；？he sighed。 “I already knew that you were old； but now I realize that you’re a lot older than you look。？
Chapter 13
IN THE BEWILDERMENT of her last years； ？rsula had had very little free time to attend to the papal education of Jos？Arcadio； and the time came for him to get ready to leave for the seminary right away。 Meme； his sister； dividing her time between Fernanda’s rigidity and Amaranta’s bitterness； at almost the same moment reached the age set for her to be sent to the nuns？school； where they would make a virtuoso on the clavichord of her。 ？rsula felt tormented by grave doubts concerning the effectiveness of the methods with which she had molded the spirit of the languid apprentice Supreme Pontiff； but she did not put the blame on her staggering old age or the dark clouds that barely permitted her to make out the shape of things； but on something that she herself could not really define and that she conceived confusedly as a progressive breakdown of time。 “The years nowadays don’t pass the way the old ones used to；？she would say； feeling that everyday reality was slipping through her hands。 In the past； she thought； children took a long time to grow up。 All one had to do was remember all the time needed for Jos？Arcadio； the elder； to go away with the gypsies and all that happened before he came back painted like a snake and talking like an astronomer； and the things that happened in the house before Amaranta and Arcadio forgot the language of the Indians and learned Spanish。 One had to see only the days of sun and dew that poor Jos？Arcadio Buendía went through under the chestnut tree and all the time weeded to mourn his death before they brought in a dying Colonel Aureliano Buendía； who after so much war and so much suffering from it was still not fifty years of age。 In other times； after spending the whole day making candy animals； she had more than enough time for the children； to see from the whites of their eyes that they needed a dose of castor oil。 Now； however； when she had nothing to do and would go