ned with the ringing of alarm bells and the firing of cannons that she lost control of her nerves and sat down on a lighted stove。 The burns changed her into a useless wife for the rest of her days。 She could only sit on one side； cushioned by pillows； and something strange must have happened to her way of walking； for she never walked again in public。 She gave up all kinds of social activity； obsessed with the notion that her body gave off a singed odor。 Dawn would find her in the courtyard； for she did not dare fall asleep lest she dream of the English and their ferocious attack dogs as they came through the windows of her bedroom to submit her to shameful tortures with their red…hot irons。 Her husband； an Aragonese merchant by whom she had two children； spent half the value of his store on medicines and pastimes in an attempt to alleviate her terror。 Finally he sold the business and took the family to live far from the sea in a settlement of peaceful Indians located in the foothills； where he built his wife a bedroom without windows so that the pirates of her dream would have no way to get in。
In that hidden village there was a native…born tobacco planter who had lived there for some time； Don Jos？Arcadio Buendía； with whom ？rsula’s great…great…grandfather established a partnership that was so lucrative that within a few years they made a fortune。 Several centuries later the great…great…grandson of the native…born planter married the great…great…granddaughter of the Aragonese。 Therefore； every time that ？rsula became exercised over her husband’s mad ideas； she would leap back over three hundred years of fate and curse the day that Sir Francis Drake had attacked Riohacha。 It was simply a way。 of giving herself some relief； because actually they were joined till death by a bond that was more solid that love： a mon prick of conscience。 They were cousins。 They had grown up together in the old village that both of their ancestors； with their work and their good habits； had transformed into one of the finest towns in the province。 Although their marriage was predicted from the time they had e into the world； when they expressed their desire to be married their own relatives tried to stop it。 They were afraid that those two healthy products of two races that had interbred over the centuries would suffer the shame of breeding iguanas。 There had already been a horrible precedent。 An aunt of ？rsula’s； married to an uncle of Jos？Arcadio Buendía； had a son who went through life wearing loose； baggy trousers and who bled to death after having lived forty…two years in the purest state of virginity； for he had been born and had grown up with a cartilaginous tail in the shape of a corkscrew and with a small tuft of hair on the tip。 A pig’s tail that was never allowed to be seen by any woman and that cost him his life when a butcher friend did him the favor of chopping it off with his cleaver。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía； with the whimsy of his nineteen years； resolved the problem with a single phrase： “I don’t care if I have piglets as long as they can talk。？So they were married amidst a festival of fireworks and a brass band that went on for three days。 They would have been happy from then on if ？rsula’s mother had not terrified her with all manner of sinister predictions about their offspring； even to the extreme of advising her to refuse to consummate the marriage。 Fearing that her stout and willful husband would rape her while she slept； ？rsula； before going to bed； would put on a rudimentary kind of drawers that her mother had made out of sailcloth and had reinforced with a system of crisscrossed leather straps and that was closed in the front by a thick iron buckle。 That was how they lived for several months。 During the day he would take care of his fighting cocks and she would do frame embroidery with her mother。 At night they would wrestle for several hours in an anguished violence that seemed to be a substitute for the act of love； until popular intuition got a whiff of something irregular and the rumor spread that ？rsula was still a virgin a year after her marriage because her husband was impotent。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía was the last one to hear the rumor。
“Look at what people are going around saying； ？rsula；？he told his wife very calmly。
“Let them talk；？she said。 “We know that it’s not true。？
So the situation went on the same way for another six months until that tragic Sunday when Jos？Arcadio Buendía won a cockfight from Prudencio Aguilar。 Furious； aroused by the blood of his bird； the loser backed away from Jos？Arcadio Buendía so that everyone in the cockpit could hear what he was going to tell him。
“Congratulations！？he shouted。 “Maybe that rooster of yours can do your wife a favor。？
Jos？Arcadio Buendía serenely picked up his rooster。 “I’ll be right back；？he told everyone。 And then to Prudencio Aguilar：
“You go home and get a weapon； because I’m going to kill you。？
Ten minutes later he returned with the notched spear that had belonged to his grandfather。 At the door to the cockpit； where half the town had gathered； Prudencio Aguilar was waiting for him。 There was no time to defend himself。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía’s spear； thrown with the strength of a bull and with the same good aim with which the first Aureliano Buendía had exterminated the jaguars in the region； pierced his throat。 That night； as they held a wake over the corpse in the cockpit； Jos？Arcadio Buendía went into the bedroom as his wife was putting on her chastity pants。 Pointing the spear at her he ordered： “Take them off。？？rsula had no doubt about her husband’s decision。 “You’ll be responsible for what happens；？she murmured。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía stuck the spear into the dirt floor。
“If you bear iguanas； we’ll raise iguanas；？he said。 “But there’ll be no more killings in this town because of you。？
It was a fine June night； cool and with a moon； and they were awake and frolicking in bed until dawn； indifferent to the breeze that passed through the bedroom； loaded with the weeping of Prudencio Aguilar’s kin。
The matter was put down as a duel of honor； but both of them were left with a twinge in their conscience。 One night； when she could not sleep； ？rsula went out into the courtyard to get some water and she saw Prudencio Aguilar by the water jar。 He was livid； a sad expression on his face； trying to cover the hole in his throat with a plug made of esparto grass。 It did not bring on fear in her； but pity。 She went back to the room and told her husband what she had seen； but he did not think much of it。 “This just means that we can’t stand the weight of our conscience。？Two nights later ？rsula saw Prudencio Aguilar again； in the bathroom； using the esparto plug to wash the clotted blood from his throat。 On another night she saw him strolling in the rain。 Jos？Arcadio Buendía； annoyed by his wife’s hallucinations； went out into the courtyard armed with the spear。 There was the dead man with his sad expression。
“You go to hell；？Jos？Arcadio Buendía shouted at him。 “Just as many times as you e back； I’ll kill you again。？
Prudencio Aguilar did not go away； nor did Jos？Arcadio Buendía dare throw the spear。 He never slept well after that。 He was tormented by the immense desolation with which the dead man had looked at him through the rain； his deep nostalgia as he yearned for living people； the anxiety with which he searched through the house looking for some water with which to soak his esparto plug。 “He must be suffering a great deal；？he said to ？rsula。 “You can see that he’s so very lonely。？She was so moved that the next time she saw the dead man uncovering the pots on the stove she understood what he was looking for； and from then on she placed water jugs all about the house。 One night when he found him washing his wound in his own room； Jos？Anedio Buendía could no longer resist。
“It’s all right； Prudencio；？he told him。 “We’re going to leave this town； just as far away as we can go； and we’ll never e back。 Go in peace now。？
That was how they undertook the crossing of the mountains。 Several friends of Jos？Arcadio Buendía； young men like him； excited； by the adventure； dismantled th