and hour。 The house was opened； still smelling of resin and damp whitewash； and the children and grandchildren of the founders saw the porch with ferns and begonias； the quiet rooms； the garden saturated with the fragrance of the roses； and they gathered together in the parlor； facing the unknown invention that had been covered with a white sheet。 Those who were familiar with the piano； popular in other towns in the swamp； felt a little disheartened； but more bitter was ？rsula’s disappointment when she put in the first roll so that Amaranta and Rebeca could begin the dancing and the mechanism did not work。 Melquíades； almost blind by then； crumbling with decrepitude； used the arts of his timeless wisdom in an attempt to fix it。 Finally Jos？Arcadio Buendía managed； by mistake； to move a device that was stuck and the music came out； first in a burst and then in a flow of mixed…up notes。 Beating against the strings that had been put in without order or concert and had been tuned with temerity； the hammers let go。 But the stubborn descendants of the twenty…one intrepid people who plowed through the mountains in search of the sea to the west avoided the reefs of the melodic mix…up and the dancing went on until dawn。
Pietro Crespi came back to repair the pianola。 Rebeca and Amaranta helped him put the strings in order and helped him with their laughter at the mix…up of the melodies。 It was extremely pleasant and so chaste in its way that ？rsula ceased her vigilance。 On the eve of his departure a farewell dance for him was improvised with the pianola and with Rebeca he put on a skillful demonstration of modern dance； Arcadio and Amaranta matched them in grace and skill。 But the exhibition was interrupted because Pilar Ternera； who was at the door with the onlookers； had a fight； biting and hair pulling； with a woman who had dared to ment that Arcadio had a woman’s behind。 Toward midnight Pietro Crespi took his leave with a sentimental little speech； and he promised to return very soon。 Rebeca acpanied him to the door； and having closed up the house and put out the lamps； she went to her room to weep。 It was an inconsolable weeping that lasted for several days； the cause of which was not known even by Amaranta。 Her hermetism was not odd。 Although she seemed expansive and cordial； she had a solitary character and an impenetrable heart。 She was a splendid adolescent with long and firm bones； but she still insisted on using the small wooden rocking chair with which she had arrived at the house； reinforced many times and with the arms gone。 No one had discovered that even at that age she still had the habit of sucking her finger。 That was why she would not lose an opportunity to lock herself in the bathroom and had acquired the habit of sleeping with her face to the wall。 On rainy afternoons； embroidering with a group of friends on the begonia porch； she would lose the thread of the conversation and a tear of nostalgia would salt her palate when she saw the strips of damp earth and the piles of mud that the earthworms had pushed up in the garden。 Those secret tastes； defeated in the past by oranges and rhubarb； broke out into an irrepressible urge when she began to weep。 She went back to eating earth。 The first time she did it almost out of curiosity； sure that the bad taste would be the best cure for the temptation。 And； in fact； she could not bear the earth in her mouth。 But she persevered； overe by the growing anxiety； and little by little she was getting back her ancestral appetite； the taste of primary minerals； the unbridled satisfaction of what was the original food。 She would put handfuls of earth in her pockets； and ate them in small bits without being seen； with a confused feeling of pleasure and rage； as she instructed her girl friends in the most difficult needlepoint and spoke about other men； who did not deserve the sacrifice of having one eat the whitewash on the walls because of them。 The handfuls of earth made the only man who deserved that show of degradation less remote and more certain； as if the ground that he walked on with his fine patent leather boots in another part of the world were transmitting to her the weight and the temperature of his blood in a mineral savor that left a harsh aftertaste in her mouth and a sediment of peace in her heart。 One afternoon； for no reason； Amparo Moscote asked permission to see the house。 Amaranta and Rebeca； disconcerted by the unexpected visit； attended her with a stiff formality。 They showed her the remodeled mansion； they had her listen to the rolls on the pianola； and they offered her orange marmalade and crackers。 Amparo gave a lesson in dignity； personal charm； and good manners that impressed ？rsula in the few moments that she was present during the visit。 After two hours； when the conversation was beginning to wane； Amparo took advantage of Amaranta’s distraction and gave Rebeca a letter。 She was able to see the name of the Estimable Se？orita Rebeca Buendía； written in the same methodical hand； with the same green ink； and the same delicacy of words with which the instructions for the operation of the pianola were written； and she folded the letter with the tips of her fingers and hid it in her bosom； looking at Amparo Moscote with an expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of plicity unto death。
The sudden friendship between Amparo Moscote and Rebeca Buendía awakened the hopes of Aureliano。 The memory of little Remedios had not stopped tormenting him； but he had not found a chance to see her。 When he would stroll through town with his closest friends； Magnífico Visbal and Gerineldo Márquez—the sons of the founders of the same names—he would look for her in the sewing shop with an anxious glance； but he saw only the older sisters。 The presence of Amparo Moscote in the house was like a premonition。 “She has to e with her；？Aureliano would say to himself in a low voice。 “She has to e。？He repeated it so many times and with such conviction that one afternoon when he was putting together a little gold fish in the work shop； he had the certainty that she had answered his call。 Indeed； a short time later he heard the childish voice； and when he looked up his heart froze with terror as he saw the girl at the door； dressed in pink organdy and wearing white boots。
“You can’t go in there； Remedios； Amparo Moscote said from the hall。 They’re working。？
But Aureliano did not give her time to respond。 He picked up the little fish by the chain that came through its mouth and said to her。
“e in。？
Remedios went over and asked some questions about the fish that Aureliano could not answer because he was seized with a sudden attack of asthma。 He wanted to stay beside that lily skin forever； beside those emerald eyes； close to that voice that called him “sir？with every question。 showing the same respect that she gave her father。 Melquíades was in the corner seated at the desk scribbling indecipherable signs。 Aureliano hated him。 All he could do was tell Remedios that he was going to give her the little fish and the girl was so startled by the offer that she left the workshop as fast as she could。 That afternoon Aureliano lost the hidden patience with which he had waited for a chance to see her。 He neglected his work。 In several desperate efforts of concentration he willed her to appear but Remedios did not respond。 He looked for her in her sisters？shop； behind the window shades in her house； in her father’s office； but he found her only in the image that saturated his private and terrible solitude。 He would spend whole hours with Rebeca in the parlor listening to the music on the pianola。 She was listening to it because it was the music with which Pietro Crespi had taught them how to dance。 Aureliano listened to it simply because everything； even music； reminded him of Remedios。
The house became full of loves Aureliano expressed it in poetry that had no beginning or end。 He would write it on the harsh pieces of parchment that Melquíades gave him； on the bathroom walls； on the skin of his arms； and in all of it Remedios would appear transfigured： Remedios in the soporific air of two in the afternoon； Remedios in the soft breath of the roses； Remedios in the water…clock secrets of the moths； Remedios in the steaming morning bread； Remedios everywhere and Remedios forever。 Rebeca waited for her love at four in the afternoon； embroidering by the window。 She knew that the mailman’s mule arrived only every two weeks； but she always waited for him； convinced that he was going to arrive on some other day by mistake。 It happened quite the opposite： once the mule did not e on the usual day。 Mad with desperation； Rebeca got up in the middle of the night and ate handfuls of earth in the garden with a suicidal drive； weeping with pain and fury； chewing tender earthworms and chipping her teeth on snail shells。 She vomited until dawn。 She fell into a state of feverish prostration； lost consciousness； and her heart went into a shameless delirium。 ？rsula； scandalized； forced the lock on her trunk and found at the bottom； tied together with pink ribbons； the sixteen perfumed letters and the skeletons of leaves and petals preserved in old books and the dried butterflies that turned to powder at the touch。
Aureliano was the only one capable of understanding such desolation。 That afternoon； while ？rsula was trying to rescue Rebeca from the slough of delirium； he went with Magnífico Visbal and Gerineldo Márquez to Catarino’s store。 The establishment had been expanded with a gallery of wooden rooms where single women who smelled of dead flowers lived。 A group made up of an accordion and drums played the songs of Francisco the Man； who had not been seen in Macondo for several years。 The three friends drank fermented cane juice。 Magnífico and Gerineldo； contemporaries of Aureliano but more skilled in the ways of the world； drank methodically with the women seated on their laps。 One of the women； withered and with goldwork on her teeth； gave Aureliano a caress that made him shudder。 He rejected her。 He had discovered that the more he drank the more he thought about Remedios； but he could bear the torture of his recollections better。 He did not know