世纪文学经典:《百年孤独》第17章Part3

She had confused him with her son again, because the hot wind that came after the deluge and had brought occasional waves of lucidity to ?rsula’s brain had passed. She never got her reason back. When she went into the bedroom she found Petronila Iguarán there with the bothersome crinolines and the beaded jacket that she put on for formal visits, and she found Tranquilina Maria Miniata Alacoque Buendía, her grandmother, fanning herself with a peacock feather in her invalid’s rocking chair, and her great-grandfather Aureliano Arcadio Buendía, with his imitation dolman of the viceregal guard, and Aureliano Iguarán, her father, who had invented a prayer to make the worms shrivel up and drop off cows, and her timid mother, and her cousin with the pig’s tail, and Jos?Arcadio Buendía, and her dead sons, all sitting in chairs lined up against the wall as if it were a wake and not a visit. She was tying a colorful string of chatter together, commenting on things from many separate places and many different times, so that when Amaranta ?rsula returned from school and Aureliano grew tired of the encyclopedia, they would find her sitting on her bed, talking to herself and lost in a labyrinth of dead people. “Fire!?she shouted once in terror and for an instant panic spread through the house, but what she was telling about was the burning of a barn that she had witnessed when she was four years old. She finally mixed up the past with the present in such a way that in the two or three waves of lucidity that she had before she died, no one knew for certain whether she was speaking about what she felt or what she remembered. Little by little she was shrinking, turning into a fetus, becoming mummified in life to the point that in her last months she was a cherry raisin lost inside of her nightgown, and the arm that she always kept raised looked like the paw of a marimonda monkey. She was motionless for several days, and Santa Sofía de la Piedad had to shake her to convince herself that she was alive and sat her on her lap to feed her a few spoonfuls of sugar water. She looked like a newborn old woman. Amaranta ?rsula and Aureliano would take her in and out of the bedroom, they would lay her on the altar to see if she was any larger than the Christ child, and one afternoon they hid her in a closet in the Pantry where the rats could have eaten her. One Palm Sunday they went into the bedroom while Fernanda was in church and carried ?rsula out by the neck and ankles.
“Poor great-great-grandmother,?Amaranta ?rsula said. “She died of old age.?
?rsula was startled.
“I’m alive!?she said.
“You can see.?Amaranta ?rsula said, suppressing her laughter, “that she’s not even breathing.?
“I’m talking!??rsula shouted.
“She can’t even talk,?Aureliano said. “She died like a little cricket.?

她又把他错当成了自己的儿子，因为代替暴雨使她神智清醒了一阵子的热风刚刚过去。老太婆的判断又不清楚了。走进卧室，她好象每一次都会遇到一些跟她交往过的人：佩特罗尼娜·伊古阿兰令人注目地穿着一条华丽的钟式裙，披着一块用珠子装饰的绣花披肩，都是她出入上流社会时的装束；瘫痪的外祖母特兰吉林娜·马里雅·米尼亚塔·阿拉柯克·布恩蒂亚庄重地坐在摇椅里，挥着一把孔雀羽毛扇；那儿还有乌苏娜的曾祖父——奥雷连诺·阿卡蒂奥·布恩蒂亚——穿着一套总督禁卫军的制服，她的父亲奥雷连诺·伊古阿兰（牛虻的幼虫一听到他作的祷文就会丧命），从牛背上摔下来；此外还有她那位笃信神灵的母亲；长着一条猪尾巴的堂弟霍塞·奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚和他那些已故的儿子们——他们一个个都端坐在沿墙摆着的椅子上，仿佛不是来作客，而是来听安魂祈祷的。她开始娓娓动听地跟他们谈话，讨论一些在时间和地点上彼此都无联系的事情。从学校回来的阿玛兰塔·乌苏娜，看厌了百科全书的奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚，走进她的卧宝时，也常常见她坐在床上大声地自言自语，在回忆死者的迷宫里瞎碰乱撞。有一次，她突然拉开吓人的嗓子，叫喊起来：“夫火啦！”喊声惊动了整座房子。事实上，她回忆起了自己四岁时见到的一次马厩失火。她就这样把过去跟现在混在一起。没死之前，她还有过两三次神智清醒的时候，但即使在那种时候，大概谁也不知道她讲的是此时此刻的感觉，还是对往事的回忆，乌苏娜渐渐枯槁了，还没死就变成了一具木乃伊，在她一生最后的几个月里，干瘪得犹如掉在睡衣里的一块黑李子干，她那只总是僵硬的手也变得好象长尾猴的爪子。她可以整整几天呆在那儿，一动也不动，圣索菲娅·德拉佩德只好把她摇了又摇，在确信她还活着之后，就让她坐在自己膝上，喂她一小匙糖水。这时，乌苏娜看上去就象一个获得新生的老太婆。阿玛兰塔·乌苏娜和奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚架起她，在卧室里拍着她，把她放在祭坛上，想证实一下她是否只比耶稣婴儿时稍大一点儿。有一天晚上，他们甚至把她藏在储藏室的一只柜子里，在那儿，她差一点让老鼠吃掉。在复活节前的那个礼拜日，趁菲兰达正在做弥撒，他们又走进乌苏娜的卧室，一下子抬起她的头和脚。
“可怜的高祖母，”阿玛兰塔·乌苏娜脱口而出，“她老死了。”
乌苏娜猝然一动。
“我还活着哩，”她反驳了一句。
“你瞧，”阿玛兰塔·乌苏娜抑住笑声说：“呼吸都没有啦。”
“我不是在讲话吗？”乌苏娜叫道。
“连话也讲不动啦！”奥雷连诺·布恩蒂亚说。“象一支蜡烛燃尽了。”