at she would go through with her girl friends； not because it was imposed as discipline but because she had lost all interest by then in talking about mysteries that were in the public domain。 She looked back on the drunken episode as an infantile adventure and it seemed so funny to her that she told Aureliano Segundo about it and he thought it was more amusing than she did。 “If your mother only knew；？he told her； doubling up with laughter； as he always said when he told her something in confidence。 He had made her promise that she would let him know about her first love affair with the same confidence； and Meme told him that she liked a redheaded American boy who had e to spend his vacation with his parents。 “What do you know；？Aureliano Segundo said； laughing。 “If your mother only knew。？But Meme also told him that the boy had gone back to his country and had disappeared from sight。 The maturity of her judgment ensured peace in the family。 Aureliano Segundo then devoted more time to Petra Cotes； and although his body and soul no longer permitted him the debauches of days gone by； he lost no chance to arrange them and to dig out the accordion； which by then had some keys held in place by shoelaces。 At home； Amaranta was weaving her interminable shroud and ？rsula dragged about in her decrepitude through the depths of the shadows where the only thing that was still visible was the ghost of Jos？Arcadio Buendía under the chestnut tree。 Fernanda consolidated her authority。 Her monthly letters to her son Jos？Arcadio at that time did not carry a string of lies and she hid from him only her correspondence with the invisible doctors； who had diagnosed a benign tumor in her large intestine and were preparing her for a telepathic operation。
It might have been aid that peace and happiness reigned for a long time in the tired mansion of the Buendías if it had not been for the sudden death of Amaranta； which caused a new uproar。 It was an unexpected event。 Although she was old and isolated from everyone； she still looked firm and upright and with the health of a rock that she had always had。 No one knew her thoughts since the afternoon on which she had given Colonel Gerineldo Márquez his final rejection and shut herself up to weep。 She was not seen to cry during the ascension to heaven of Remedios the Beauty or over the extermination of the Aurelianos or the death of Colonel Aureliano Buendía； who was the person she loved most in this world； although she showed it only when they found his body under the chestnut tree。 She helped pick up the body。 She dressed him in his soldier’s uniform； shaved him； bed his hair； and waxed his mustache better than he had ever done in his days of glory。 No one thought that there was any love in that act because they were accustomed to the familiarity of Amaranta with the rites of death。 Fernanda was scandalized that she did not understand the relationship of Catholicism with life but only its relationship with death； as if it were not a religion but a pendium of funeral conventions。 Amaranta was too wrapped up in the eggplant patch of her memories to understand those subtle apologetics。 She had reached old age with all of her nostalgias intact。 When she listened to the waltzes of Pietro Crespi she felt the same desire to weep that she had had in adolescence； as if time and harsh lessons had meant nothing。 The rolls of music that she herself had thrown into the trash with the pretext that they had rotted from dampness kept spinning and playing in her memory。 She had tried to sink them into the swampy passion that she allowed herself with her nephew Aureliano Jos？and she tried to take refuge in the calm and virile protection of Colonel Gerineldo Márquez； but she had not been able to overe them； not even with the most desperate act of her old age when she would bathe the small Jos？Arcadio three years before he was sent to the seminary and caress him not as a grandmother would have done with a grandchild； but as a woman would have done with a man； as it was said that the French matrons did and as she had wanted to do with Pietro Crespi at the age of twelve； fourteen； when she saw him in his dancing tights and with the magic wand with which he kept time to the metronome。 At times It pained her to have let that outpouring of misery follow its course； and at times it made her so angry that she would prick her fingers with the needles； but what pained her most and enraged her most and made her most bitter was the fragrant and wormy guava grove of love that was dragging her toward death。 Just as Colonel Aureliano Buendía thought about his war； unable to avoid it； so Amaranta thought about Rebeca。 But while her brother had managed to sterilize his memories； she had only managed to make hers more scalding。 The only thing that she asked of God for many years was that he would not visit on her the punishment of dying before Rebeca。 Every time she passed by her house and noted the progress of destruction she took fort in the idea that God was listening to her。 One afternoon； when she was sewing on the porch； she was assailed by the certainty that she would be sitting in that place； in the same position； and under the same light when they brought her the news of Rebeca’s death。 She sat down to wait for it； as one waits for a letter； and the fact was that at one time she would pull off buttons to sew them on again so that inactivity would not make the wait longer and more anxious。 No one in the house realized that at that time Amaranta was sewing a fine shroud for Rebeca。 Later on； when Aureliano Triste told how he had seen her changed into an apparition with leathery skin and a few golden threads on her skull； Amaranta was not surprised because the specter described was exactly what she had been imagining for some time。 She had decided to restore Rebeca’s corpse； to disguise with paraffin the damage to her face and make a wig for her from the hair of the saints。 She would manufacture a beautiful corpse； with the linen shroud and a plush…lined coffin with purple trim。 and she would put it at the disposition of the worms with splendid funeral ceremonies。 She worked out the plan with such hatred that it made her tremble to think about the scheme； which she would have carried out in exactly the same way if it had been done out of love； but she would not allow herself to bee upset by the confusion and went on perfecting the details so minutely that she came to be more than a specialist and was a virtuoso in the rites of death。 The only thing that she did not keep In mind in her fearsome plan was that in spite of her pleas to God she might die before Rebeca。 That was； in fact； what happened。 At the final moment； however； Amaranta did not feel frustrated； but on the contrary； free of all bitterness because death had awarded her the privilege of announcing itself several years ahead of time。 She saw it on one burning afternoon sewing with her on the porch a short time after Meme had left for school。 She saw it because it was a woman dressed in blue with long hair； with a sort of antiquated look； and with a certain resemblance to Pilar Ternera during the time when she had helped with the chores in the kitchen。 Fernanda w