he backyard； and he excavated so deeply under the foundations of the east wing of the house that one night they woke up in terror at what seemed to be an earthquake； as much because of the trembling as the fearful underground creaking。 Three of the rooms were collapsing and a frightening crack had opened up from the porch to Fernanda’s room。 Aureliano Segundo did not give up the search because of that。 Even when his last hopes had been extinguished and the only thing that seemed to make any sense was what the cards had predicted； he reinforced the jagged foundation； repaired the crack with mortar； and continued on the side to the west。 He was still there on the second week of the following June when the rain began to abate and the clouds began to lift and it was obvious from one moment to the next that it was going to clear。 That was what happened。 On Friday at two in the afternoon the world lighted up with a crazy crimson sun as harsh as brick dust and almost as cool as water； and it did not rain again for ten years。
Macondo was in ruins。 In the swampy streets there were the remains of furniture； animal skeletons covered with red lilies； the last memories of the hordes of newers who had fled Macondo as wildly as they had arrived。 The houses that had been built with such haste during the banana fever had been abandoned。 The banana pany tore down its installations。 All that remained of the former wired…in city were the ruins。 The wooden houses； the cool terraces for breezy card…playing afternoons； seemed to have been blown away in an anticipation of the prophetic wind that years later would wipe Macondo off the face of the earth。 The only human trace left by that voracious blast was a glove belonging to Patricia Brown in an automobile smothered in wild pansies。 The enchanted region explored by Jos？Arcadio Buendía in the days of the founding； where later on the banana plantations flourished； was a bog of rotting roots； on the horizon of which one could manage to see the silent foam of the sea。 Aureliano Segundo went through a crisis of affliction on the first Sunday that he put on dry clothes and went out to renew his acquaintance with the town。 The survivors of the catastrophe； the same ones who had been living in Macondo before it had been struck by the banana pany hurricane； were sitting in the middle of the street enjoying their first sunshine。 They still had the green of the algae on their skin and the musty smell of a corner that had been stamped on them by the rain； but in their hearts they seemed happy to have recovered the town in which they had been born。 The Street of the Turks was again what it had been earlier； in the days when the Arabs with slippers and rings in their ears were going about the world sping knickknacks for macaws and had found in Macondo a good bend in the road where they could find respite from their age…old lot as wanderers。 Having crossed through to the other side of the rain。 the merchandise in the booths was falling apart； the cloths spread over the doors were splotched with mold； the counters undermined by termites； the walls eaten away by dampness； but the Arabs of the third generation were sitting in the same place and in the same position as their fathers and grandfathers； taciturn； dauntless； invulnerable to time and disaster； as alive or as dead as they had been after the insomnia plague and Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s thirty…two wars。 Their strength of spirit in the face of ruins of the gaming tables； the fritter stands； the shooting galleries； and the alley where they interpreted dreams and predicted the future made Aureliano Segundo ask them with his usual informality what mysterious resources they had relied upon so as not to have gone awash in the storm； what the devil they had done so as not to drown； and one after the other； from door to door； they returned a crafty smile and a dreamy look； and without any previous consultation they all gave the answer：
“Swimming。？
Petra Cotes was perhaps the only native who had an Arab heart。 She had seen the final destruction of her stables； her barns dragged off by the storm。 but she had managed to keep her house standing。 During the second year she had sent pressing messages to Aureliano Segundo and he had answered that he did not know when he would go back to her house； but that in any case he would bring along a box of gold coins to pave the bedroom floor with。 At that time she had dug deep into her heart； searching for the strength that would allow her to survive the misfortune； and she had discovered a reflective and just rage with which she had sworn to restore the fortune squandered by her lover and then wiped out by the deluge。 It was such an unbreakable decision that Aureliano Segundo went back to her house eight months after the last message and found her green disheveled； with sunken eyelids and skin spangled with mange； but she was writing out numbers on small pieces of paper to make a raffle。 Aureliano Segundo was astonished； and he was so dirty and so solemn that Petra Cotes almost believed that the one who had e to see her was not the lover of all her life but his twin brother。
“You’re crazy；？he told her。 “Unless you plan to raffle off bones。？
Then she told him to look in the bedroom and Aureliano Segundo saw the mule。 Its skin was clinging to its bones like that of its mistress； but it was just as alive and resolute as she。 Petra Cotes had fed it with her wrath； and when there was no more hay or corn or roots； she had given it shelter in her own bedroom and fed it on the percale sheets； the Persian rugs； the plush bedspreads； the velvet drapes； and the canopy embroidered with gold thread and silk tassels on the episcopal bed。
Chapter 17
？RSULA HAD to make a great effort to fulfill her promise to die when it cleared。 The waves of lucidity that were so scarce during the rains became more frequent after August； when an and wind began to blow and suffocated the rose bushes and petrified the piles of mud； and ended up scattering over Macondo the burning dust that covered the rusted zinc roofs and the age…old almond trees forever。 ？rsula cried in lamentation when she discovered that for more than three years she had been a plaything for the children。 She washed her painted face； took off the strips of brightly colored cloth； the dried lizards and frogs； and the rosaries and old Arab necklaces that they had hung all over her body； and for the first time since the death of Amaranta she got up out of bed without anybody’s help to join in the family life once more。 The spirit of her invincible heart guided her through the shadows。 Those who noticed her stumbling and who bumped into the archangelic arm she kept raised at head level thought that she was having trouble with her body； but they still did not think she was blind。 She did not need to see to realize that the flower beds； cultivated with such care since the first rebuilding； had been destroyed by the rain and ruined by Aureliano Segundo’s excavations； and that the walls and the cement of the floors were cracked； the furniture mushy and discolored； the doors off their hinges； and the family menaced by a spirit of resignation and despair that was inconc