even by his closest friends； Colonel Aureliano Buendía still had at that time the familiar tone that made it possible to identify him at the other end of the wire。 Many times he would prolong the talk beyond the expected limit and let them drift into ments of a domestic nature。 Little by little； however； and as the war became more intense and widespread； his image was fading away into a universe of unreality。 The characteristics of his speech were more and more uncertain； and they cam together and bined to form words that were gradually losing all meaning。 Colonel Gerineldo Márquez limited himself then to just listening； burdened by the impression that he was in telegraphic contact with a stranger from another world。
“I understand； Aureliano；？he would conclude on the key。 “Long live the Liberal party！？
He finally lost all contact with the war。 What in other times had been a real activity； an irresistible passion of his youth； became a remote point of reference for him： an emptiness。 His only refuge was Amaranta’s sewing room。 He would visit her every afternoon。 He liked to watch her hands as she curled frothy petticoat cloth in the machine that was kept in motion by Remedios the Beauty。 They spent many hours without speaking； content with their reciprocal pany； but while Amaranta was inwardly pleased in keeping the fire of his devotion alive； he was unaware of the secret designs of that indecipherable heart。 When the news of his return reached her； Amaranta had been smothered by anxiety。 But when she saw him enter the house in the middle of Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s noisy escort and she saw how he had been mistreated by the rigors of exile； made old by age and oblivion； dirty with sweat and dust； smelling like a herd； ugly； with his left arm in a sling； she felt faint with disillusionment。 “My God；？she thought。 “This wasn’t the person I was waiting for。？On the following day； however； he came back to the house shaved and clean； with his mustache perfumed with lavender water and without the bloody sling。 He brought her a prayerbook bound in mother…of…pearl。
“How strange men are；？she said； because she could not think of anything else to say。 “They spend their lives fighting against priests and then give prayerbooks as gifts。？
From that time on； even during the most critical days of the war； he visited her every afternoon。 Many times； when Remedios the Beauty was not present； it was he who turned the wheel on the sewing machine。 Amaranta felt upset by the perseverance； the loyalty； the submissiveness of that man who was invested with so much authority and who nevertheless took off his sidearm in the living room so that he could go into the sewing room without weapons； But for four years he kept repeating his love and she would always find a way to reject him without hurting him； for even though she had not succeeded in loving him she could no longer live without him。 Remedios the Beauty； who seemed indifferent to everything and who was thought to be mentally retarded； was not insensitive to so much devotion and she intervened in Colonel Gerineldo Márquez’s favor。 Amaranta suddenly discovered that the girl she had raised； who was just entering adolescence； was already the most beautiful creature that had even been seen in Macondo。 She felt reborn in her heart the rancor that she had felt in other days for Rebeca； and begging God not to impel her into the extreme state of wishing her dead； she banished her from the sewing room。 It was around that time that Colonel Gerineldo Márquez began to feel the boredom of the war。 He summoned his reserves of persuasion； his broad and repressed tenderness； ready to give up for Amaranta a glory that had cost him the sacrifice of his best years。 But he could not succeed in convincing her。 One August afternoon； overe by the unbearable weight of her own obstinacy； Amaranta locked herself in her bedroom to weep over her solitude unto death after giving her final answer to her tenacious suitor：
“Let’s forget about each other forever；？she told him。 “We’re too old for this sort of thing now。？
Colonel Gerineldo Márquez had a telegraphic call from Colonel Aureliano Buendía that afternoon。 It was a routine conversation which was not going to bring about any break in the stagnant war。 At the end； Colonel Gerineldo Márquez looked at the desolate streets； the crystal water on the almond trees； and he found himself lost in solitude。
“Aureliano；？he said sadly on the key； “it’s raining in Macondo。？
There was a long silence on the line。 Suddenly the apparatus jumped with the pitiless letters from Colonel Aureliano Buendía。
“Don’t be a jackass； Gerineldo；？the signals said。 “It’s natural for it to be raining in August。？
They had not seen each other for such a long time that Colonel Gerineldo Márquez was upset by the aggressiveness of the reaction。 Two months later； however； when Colonel Aureliano Buendía returned to Macondo； his upset was changed to stupefaction。 Even ？rsula was surprised at how much he had changed。 He came with no noise； no escort； wrapped in a cloak in spite of the heat； and with three mistresses； whom he installed in the same house； where he spent most of his time lying in a hammock。 He scarcely read the telegraphic dispatches that reported routine operations。 On one occasion Colonel Gerineldo Márquez asked him for instructions for the evacuation of a spot on the border where there was a danger that the conflict would bee an international affair。
“Don’t bother me with trifles；？he ordered him。 “Consult Divine Providence。？
It was perhaps the most critical moment of the war。 The Liberal landowners； who had supported the revolution in the beginning； had made secret alliances with the Conservative landowners in order to stop the revision of property titles。 The politicians who supplied funds for the war from exile had Publicly repudiated the drastic aims of Colonel Aureliano Buendía； but even that withdrawal of authorization did not seem to bother him。 He had not returned to reading his poetry； which filled more than five volumes and lay forgotten at the bottom of his trunk。 At night or at siesta time he would call one of his women to his hammock and obtain a rudimentary satisfaction from her； and then he would sleep like a stone that was not concerned by the slightest indication of worry。 Only he knew at that time that his confused heart was condemned to uncertainty forever。 At first； intoxicated by the glory of his return； by his remarkable victories； he had peeped into the abyss of greatness。 He took pleasure in keeping by his right hand the Duke of Marlborough； his great teacher in the art of war； whose attire of skins and tiger claws aroused the respect of adults and the awe of children。 It was then that he decided that no human being； not even ？rsula； could e closer to him than ten feet。 In the center of the chalk circle that his aides would draw wherever he stopped； and which only he could enter； he would decide with brief orders that had no appeal the fate of the world。 The first time that he was in Manaure after the shooting of General Moncada； he hastened to fulfill his victim’s last wish and the widow took the glasses； the medal； the watch； and the ring； but she would not let him in the door。
“You can’t e in； colonel；？she told him。 “You may be in mand of your war； but I’m in mand of my house。？
Colonel Aureliano Buendía did not show any sign of anger； but his spirit only calmed down when his bodyguard had sacked the widow’s house and reduced it to ashes。 “Watch out for your heart； Aureliano；？Colonel Gerineldo Márquez would say to him then。 “You’re rotting alive。？About that time he called together a second assembly of the principal rebel manders。 He found all types： idealists； ambitious people； adventurers； those with social resentments； even mon criminals。 There was even a former Conservative functionary who had taken refuge in the revolt to escape a judgment for misappropriation of funds。 Many of them did not even know why they were fighting in the midst of that motley crowd； whose differences of values were on the verge of causing an internal explosion； one gloomy authority stood out： General Te6filo Vargas。 He was a full…blooded Indian； untamed； illiterate； and endowed with quiet wiles and a messianic vocation that aroused a demented fanaticism in his men。 Colonel Aureliano Buendía called the meeting with the aim of unifying the rebel mand against the maneuvers of the politicians。 General Teófilo Vargas came forward with his intentions： in a few hours he shattered the coalition of better…qualified manders and took charge of the main mand。 “He’s a wild beast worth watching；？Colonel Aureliano Buendía told his officers。 “That man is more dangerous to us than the Minister of War。？Then a very young captain who had always been outstanding for his timidity raised a cautious index finger。
“It’s quite simple； colonel；？he proposed。 “He has to be killed。？
Colonel Aureliano Buendía was not alarmed by the coldness of the proposition but by the way in which； by a fraction of a second； it had anticipated his own thoughts。
“Don’t expect me to give an order like that；？he said。
He did not give it； as a matter of fact。 But two weeks later General Teófilo Vargas was cut to bits by machetes in an ambush and Colonel Aureliano Buendía assumed the main mand。 The same night that his authority was recognized by all the rebel mands； he woke up in a fright； calling for a blanket。 An inner coldness which shattered his bones and tortured him even in the heat of the sun would not let him sleep for several months； until it became a habit。 The intoxication of power began to break apart under waves of disfort。 Searching for a cure against the chill； he had the young officer who had proposed the murder of General Teófilo Vargas shot。 His orders were being carried out even before they were given； even before he thought of them； and they always went much beyond what he would have dared have them do。 Lost in the solitude of his immense power； he began to lose direction。 He was bothered by the people who cheered him in neighboring villages； and he imagined that they were the same cheers they gave the enemy。