世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第18章Part4

It was impossible to conceive of a man more like his mother. He was wearing a somber taffeta suit, a shirt with a round and hard collar, and a thin silk ribbon tied in a bow in place of a necktie. He was ruddy and languid with a startled look and weak lips. His black hair, shiny and smooth, parted in the middle of his head by a straight and tired line, had the same artificial appearance as the hair on the saints. The shadow of a well-uprooted beard on his paraffin face looked like a question of conscience. His hands were pale, with green veins and fingers that were like parasites, and he wore a solid gold ring with a round sunflower opal on his left index finger. When he opened the street door Aureliano did not have to be told who he was to realize that he came from far away. With his steps the house filled up with the fragrance of the toilet water that ?rsula used to splash on him when he was a child in order to find him in the shadows, in some way impossible to ascertain, after so many years of absence. Jos Arcadio was still an autumnal child, terribly sad and solitary. He went directly to his mother’s bedroom, where Aureliano had boiled mercury for four months in his grandfather’s grandfather’s water pipe to conserve the body according to Melquíades?formula. Jos?Arcadio did not ask him any questions. He kissed the corpse on the forehead and withdrew from under her skirt the pocket of casing which contained three as yet unused pessaries and the key to her cabinet. He did everything with direct and decisive movements, in contrast to his languid look. From the cabinet he took a small damascene chest with the family crest and found on the inside, which was perfumed with sandalwood, the long letter in which Fernanda unburdened her heart of the numerous truths that she had hidden from him. He read it standing up, avidly but without anxiety, and at the third page he stopped and examined Aureliano with a look of second recognition.
“So,?he said with a voice with a touch of razor in it, “You’re the bastard.?
“I’m Aureliano Buendía.?

想不到这个儿子格外象他的母亲。霍。 阿卡蒂奥穿着黑塔夫绸的西服，衬衫领子又硬又圆，一条打着花结的缎带代替了领带。这是个脸色苍白、神情倦怠的人，露出一种诧异的目光，长着一个柔弱的嘴巴，光滑的黑发从中分开，纹路又直又细，这头圣徒的假发显示出矫揉造作的样子。他的面孔象石膏一样白，刮得千干净净的下颏留着一块块有点发青的阴影，似乎说明良心的谴责，他有一双青筋毕露、苍白浮肿的手——游手好闲者的手，左手无名指上嵌着圆形乳白色宝石的大戒指耀人眼目。奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚给他开门以后，一眼就看出站在他面前的是从远方来的人。他走过哪儿，哪儿就留下花露水的香味，在奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚还是个婴儿的时候，乌苏娜为了在双目失明的黑暗中找到他，也曾给他洒过这种花露水。不知怎的，多年不见，霍·阿卡蒂奥依然象从前一样，是个悒郁孤僻的小老头儿。他径直走进母亲的卧室，在这间卧室里，奥雷连诺。 布恩蒂亚按照梅尔加德斯的处方，在属于他祖父的曾祖父的那只坩埚里，整整熬了四个月的水银，才使菲兰达的尸体没有腐烂。霍·阿卡蒂奥什么也没问。他俯身在已故的菲兰达额头上吻了一下，便从她那裙子的贴身口袋里掏出三只还没用过的宫托、一把衣橱钥匙。他那坚定利索的动作跟他那倦怠的神情实在不相称。他从衣橱里翻出那只刻着族徽的首饰箱，首饰箱是用一块绸子裹着的，透出檀香木的芬芳，他随手把它打开——只见箱底上放着一封长信；在这封信里，菲兰达倾诉了自己的衷肠，讲述了生前瞒着儿子的一切。霍·阿卡蒂奥站着，饶有兴昧地读完母亲的信，没有露出任何激动情绪；
他在第三页上停顿了一下，就抬起头来，目不转睛地望着奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚，仿佛刚认识他似的。
“这么说，”他开口道，嗓音里有点刮胡子的响声。“你就是杂种罗？”
“我是奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚。”