ost things is hindered by routine habits and that is why it is so difficult to find them。
The rearing of Jos？Arcadio helped ？rsula in the exhausting task of keeping herself up to date on the smallest changes in the house。 When she realized that Amaranta was dressing the saints in the bedroom she pretended to show the boy the differences in the colors。
“Let’s see；？she would tell him。 “Tell me what color the Archangel Raphael is wearing。？
In that way the child gave her the information that was denied her by her eyes； and long before he went away to the seminary ？rsula could already distinguish the different colors of the saints？clothing by the texture。 Sometimes unforeseen accidents would happen。 One afternoon when Amaranta was ‘embroidering on the porch with the begonias ？rsula bumped into her。
“For heaven’s sake；？Amaranta protested。 “watch where you’re going。？
“It’s your fault；？？rsula said。 “You’re not sitting where you’re supposed to。？
She was sure of it。 But that day she began to realize something that no one had noticed and it was that with the passage of the year the sun imperceptibly changed position and those who sat on the porch had to change their position little by little without being aware of it。 From then on ？rsula had only to remember the date in order to know exactly where Amaranta was sitting。 Even though the trembling of her hands was more and more noticeable and the weight of her feet was too much for her； her small figure was never seen in so many places at the same time。 She was almost as diligent as when she had the whole weight of the house on her shoulders。 Nevertheless； in the impenetrable solitude of decrepitude she had such clairvoyance as she examined the most insignificant happenings in the family that for the first time she saw clearly the truths that her busy life in former times had prevented her from seeing。 Around the time they were preparing Jos？Arcadio for the seminary she had already made a detailed recapitulation of life in the house since the founding of Macondo and had pletely changed the opinion that she had always held of her descendants。 She realized that Colonel Aureliano Buendía had not lost his love for the family because he had been hardened by the war； as she had thought before； but that he had never loved anyone； not even his wife Remedios or the countless one…night women who had passed through his life； and much less his sons。 She sensed that he had fought so many wars not out of idealism； as everyone had thought； nor had he renounced a certain victory because of fatigue； as everyone had thought； but that he had won and lost for the same reason； pure and sinful pride。 She reached the conclusion that the son for whom she would have given her life was simply a man incapable of love。 One night when she was carrying him in her belly she heard him weeping。 It was such a definite lament that Jos？Arcadio Buendía woke up beside her and was happy with the idea that his son was going to be a ventriloquist。 Other people predicted that he would be a prophet。 She； on the other hand； shuddered from the certainty that the deep moan was a first indication of the fearful pig tail and she begged God to let the child die in her womb。 But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see； and she said so many times； that the cries of children in their mothers？wombs are not announcements of ventriloquism or a faculty for prophecy but an unmistakable sign of an incapacity for love。 The lowering of the image of her son brought out in her all at once all the passion that she owed him。 Amaranta； however； whose hardness of heart frightened her； whose concentrated bitterness made her bitter； suddenly became clear to her in the final analysis as the most tender woman who had ever existed； and she understood with pitying clarity that the unjust tortures to which she had submitted Pietro Crespi had not been dictated by a desire for vengeance； as everyone had thought； nor had the slow martyrdom with which she had frustrated the life of Colonel Gerineldo Márquez been determined by the gall of her bitterness； as everyone had thought； but that both actions had been a mortal struggle between a measureless love and an invincible cowardice； and that the irrational fear that Amaranta had always had of her own tormented heart had triumphed in the end。 It was during that time that ？rsula； began to speak Rebeca’s name； bringing back the memory of her with an old love that was exalted by tardy repentance and a sudden admiration； ing to understand that only she； Rebeca； the one who had never fed of her milk but only of the earth of the land and the whiteness of the walls； the one who did not carry the blood of her veins in hers but the unknown blood of the strangers whose bones were still clocing in their grave。 Rebeca； the one with an impatient heart； the one with a fierce womb； was the only one who bad the unbridled courage that ？rsula had wanted for her line。
“Rebeca；？she would say； feeling along the walls； “how unfair we’ve been to you！？
In the house they simply thought that her mind was wandering； especially since the time she had begun walking about with her right arm raised like the Archangel Gabriel。 Fernanda； however； realized that there was a sun of clairvoyance in the shadows of that wandering； for ？rsula could say without hesitation how much money had been spent in the house during the previous year。 Amaranta had a similar idea one day as her mother was stirring a pot of soup in the kitchen and said all at once without knowing that they were listening to her that the corn grinder they had bought from the first gypsies and that had disappeared during the time before Jos？Arcadio； had taken his sixty…five trips around the world was still in Pilar Ternera’s house。 Also almost a hundred years old； but fit and agile in spite of her inconceivable fatness； which frightened children as her laughter had frightened the doves in other times； Pilar Ternera was not surprised that ？rsula was correct because her own experience was beginning to tell her that an alert old age can be more keen than the cards。
Nevertheless； when ？rsula realized that she had not had enough time to consolidate the vocation of Jos？Arcadio； she let herself be disturbed by consternation。 She began to make mistakes； trying to see with her eyes the things that intuition allowed her to see with greater clarity。 One morning she poured the contents of an inkwell over the boy’s head thinking that it was rose water。 She stumbled so much in her insistence in taking part in everything that she felt herself upset by gusts of bad humor and she tried to get rid of the shadows that were beginning to wrap her in a straitjacket of cobwebs。 It was then that it occurred to her that her clumsiness was not the first victory of decrepitude and darkness but a sentence passed by time。 She thought that previously； when God did not make the same traps out of the months and years that the Turks used when they measured a yard of percale； things were different。 Now children not only grew faster； but even feelings developed in a different way。 No sooner had Remedios the Beauty ascended to heaven in body and soul than the inconsiderate Fernanda was going about mumbling to herself because her sheets had been carried off。 The bodies of the Aurelianos were no sooner cold in their graves than Aureliano Segundo had the house lighted up again； filled with drunkards playing the accordion and dousing themselves in champagne； as if dogs and not Christians had died； and as if that madhouse which had cost her so many headaches and so many candy animals was destined to bee a trash heap of perdition。 Remembering those things as she prepared Jos？Arcadio’s trunk； ？rsula wondered if it was not preferable to lie down once and for all in her grave and let them throw the earth over her； and she asked God； without fear； if he really believed that people were made of iron in order to bear so many troubles and mortifications； and asking over and over she was stirring up her own confusion and she felt irrepressible desires to let herself go and scamper about like a foreigner and allow herself at last an instant of rebellion； that instant yearned for so ma