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convinced that his own officers were lying to him. He fought with the Duke of Marlborough. “The best friend a
person has,?he would say at that time, “is one who has just died.?He was weary of the uncertainty, of the vicious
circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the
position of not knowing why, or how, or even when. There was always someone outside of the chalk circle.
Someone who needed money, someone who had a son with whooping cough, or someone who wanted to go off
and sleep forever because he could not stand the shit taste of the war in his mouth and who, nevertheless, stood at
attention to inform him: “Everything normal, colonel.?And normality was precisely the most fearful part of that
infinite war: nothing ever happened. Alone, abandoned by his premonitions,cheap everquest 2 gold, fleeing the chill that was to
accompany him until death, he sought a last refuge in Macondo in the warmth of his oldest memories. His
indolence was so serious that when they announced the arrival of a commission from his party that was
authorized to discuss the stalemate of the war, he rolled over in his hammock without completely waking up.
“Take them to the whores,runescape money,?he said.
They were six lawyers in frock coats and top hats who endured the violent November sun with stiff stoicism.
2rsula put them up in her house. They spent the greater part of the day closeted in the bedroom in hermetic
conferences and at dusk they asked for an escort and some accordion players and took over Catarino’s store.
“Leave them alone,?Colonel Aureliano Buendaa ordered. “After all, I know what they want.?At the beginning of
December the long-awaited interview, which many had foreseen as an interminable argument, was resolved in
less than an hour.
In the hot parlor, beside the specter of the pianola shrouded in a white sheet, Colonel Aureliano Buendaa did
not sit down that time inside the chalk circle that his aides had drawn. He sat in a chair between his political
advisers and, wrapped in his woolen blanket, he listened in silence to the brief proposals of the emissaries. They
asked first that he renounce the revision of property titles in order to get back the support of the Liberal
landowners. They asked,eq2 power leveling, secondly, that he renounce the fight against clerical influence in order to obtain the
support of the Catholic masses. They asked, finally, that he renounce the aim of equal rights for natural and
illegitimate children in order to preserve the integrity of the home.
“That means,?Colonel Aureliano Buendaa said,eve isk, smiling when the reading was over, “that all we’re fighting for
is power.?
“They’re tactical changes,?one of the delegates replied. “Right now the main thing is to broaden the popular
base of the war. Then we’ll have another look.?
One of Colonel Aureliano Buendaa’s political advisers hastened to intervene.
“It’s a contradiction?he said. “If these changes are good, it means that the Conservative regime is good. If we
succeed in broadening the popular base of the war with them, as you people say, it means that the regime his a
broad popular base. It means, in short, that for almost twenty years we’ve been fighting against the sentiments of
the nation.?
He was going to go on, but Colonel Aureliano Buendaa stopped him with a signal. “Don’t waste your time,
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the tormenting hammering and the constant noise of wooden lathings ceased in a silence that was startled at the
order and neatness of the music. They all ran to the parlor. Jos?Arcadio Buendaa was as if struck by lightning, not
because of the beauty of the melody, but because of the automatic working of the keys of the pianola, and he set
up Melquaades?camera with the hope of getting a daguerreotype of the invisible player. That day the Italian had
lunch with them. Rebeca and Amaranta, serving the table, were intimidated by the way in which the angelic man
with pale and ringless hands manipulated the utensils. In the living room, next to the parlor, Pietro Crespi taught
them how to dance. He showed them the steps without touching them, keeping time with a metronome, under the
friendly eye of 2rsula, who did not leave the room for a moment while her daughters had their lesson. Pietro
Crespi wore special pants on those days, very elastic and tight, and dancing slippers, “You don’t have to worry so
much,?Jos?Arcadio Buendaa told her. “The man’s a fairy.?But she did not leave off her vigilance until the
apprenticeship was over and the Italian left Macondo. Then they began to organize the party. 2rsula drew up a
strict guest list, in which the only ones invited were the descendants of the founders, except for the family of
Pilar Ternera, who by then had had two more children by unknown fathers. It was truly a high-class list, except
that it was determined by feelings of friendship, for those favored were not only the oldest friends of Jos?Arcadio
Buendaa’s house since before they undertook the exodus and the founding of Macondo,eve isk, but also their sons and
grandsons, who were the constant companions of Aureliano and Arcadio since infancy,cheap aoc gold, and their daughters, who
were the only ones who visited the house to embroider with Rebeca and Amaranta. Don Apolinar Moscote, the
benevolent ruler whose activity had been reduced to the maintenance from his scanty resources of two policemen
armed with wooden clubs,l2 adena, was a figurehead. In older to support the household expenses his daughters had
opened a sewing shop, where they made felt flowers as well as guava delicacies, and wrote love notes to order.
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But in spite of being modest and hard-working, the most beautiful girls in Iowa, and the most skilled at the new
dances, they did not manage to be considered for the party.
While 2rsula and the girls unpacked furniture, polished silverware, and hung pictures of maidens in boats full
of roses, which gave a breath of new life to the naked areas that the masons had built, Jos?Arcadio Buendaa
stopped his pursuit of the image of God, convinced of His nonexistence, and he took the pianola apart in order to
decipher its magical secret. Two days before the party, swamped in a shower of leftover keys and hammers,
bungling in the midst of a mix-up of strings that would unroll in one direction and roll up again in the other, he
succeeded in a fashion in putting the instrument back together. There had never been as many surprises and as
much dashing about as in those days, but the new pitch lamps were lighted on the designated day and hour. The
house was opened, still smelling of resin and damp whitewash, and the children and grandchildren of the
founders saw the porch with ferns and begonias, the quiet rooms, the garden saturated with the fragrance of the
roses,cheap wow gold, and they gathered together in the parlor, facing the unknown invention that had been covered with a white
sheet. Those who were familiar with the piano, popular in other towns in the swamp, felt a little disheartened, but
more bitter was 2rsula’s disappointment when she put in the first roll so that Amaranta and Rebeca could begin

soon as the men came in, before being introduced, they gave them chairs to sit on. But they both remained
standing.
“Very well, my friend,?Jos?Arcadio Buendaa said, “you may stay here, not because you have those bandits
with shotguns at the door, but out of consideration for your wife and daughters.?
Don Apolinar Moscote was upset, but Jos?Arcadio Buendaa did not give him time to reply. “We only make
two conditions,?he went on. “The first: that everyone can paint his house the color he feels like. The second: that
the soldiers leave at once. We will guarantee order for you.?The magistrate raised his right hand with all the
fingers extended.
“Your word of honor??
“The word of your enemy,?Jos?Arcadio Buendaa said. And he added in a bitter tone: “Because I must tell you
one thing: you and I are still enemies.?
The soldiers left that same afternoon. A few days later Jos?Arcadio Buendaa found a house for the magistrate’s
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family. Everybody was at peace except Aureliano. The image of Remedios, the magistrate’s younger daughter,
who, because of her age, could have been his daughter,age of conan power leveling, kept paining him in some part of his body. It was a
physical sensation that almost bothered him when he walked, like a pebble in his shoe.
Chapter 4
THE NEW HOUSE, white, like a dove, was inaugurated with a dance. 2rsula had got that idea from the
afternoon when she saw Rebeca and Amaranta changed into adolescents, and it could almost have been said that
the main reason behind the construction was a desire to have a proper place for the girls to receive visitors. In
order that nothing would be lacking in splendor she worked like a galley slave as the repairs were under way, so
that before they were finished she had ordered costly necessities for the decorations, the table service,eve isk, and the
marvelous invention that was to arouse the astonishment of the town and the jubilation of the young people: the
pianola. They delivered it broken down, packed in several boxes that were unloaded along with the Viennese
furniture, the Bohemian crystal, the table service from the Indies Company, the tablecloths from Holland, and a
rich variety of lamps and candlesticks, hangings and drapes. The import house sent along at its own expense an
Italian expert, Pietro Crespi, to assemble and tune the pianola, to instruct the purchasers in its functioning, and to
teach them how to dance the latest music printed on its six paper rolls.
Pietro Crespi was young and blond, the most handsome and well mannered man who had ever been seen in
Macondo, so scrupulous in his dress that in spite of the suffocating heat he would work in his brocade vest and
heavy coat of dark cloth. Soaked in sweat, keeping a reverent distance from the owners of the house, he spent
several weeks shut up is the parlor with a dedication much like that of Aureliano in his silverwork. One morning,conan gold,
without opening the door, without calling anyone to witness the miracle,buy rs money, he placed the first roll in the pianola and

earn in a short time more money than 2rsula had with her delicious candy fauna, but everybody thought it
strange that he was now a full-grown man and had not known a woman. It was true that he had never had one.
Several months later saw the return of Francisco the Man,eve isk, as ancient vagabond who was almost two hundred
years old and who frequently passed through Macondo distributing songs that he composed himself. In them
Francisco the Man told in great detail the things that had happened in the towns along his route, from Manaure to
the edge of the swamp, so that if anyone had a message to send or an event to make public, he would pay him
two cents to include it in his repertory. That was how 2rsula learned of the death of her mother, as a simple
consequence of listening to the songs in the hope that they would say something about her son Jos?Arcadio.
Francisco the Man,cheap eve online isk, called that because he had once defeated the devil in a duel of improvisation,buy age of conan gold, and whose real
name no one knew, disappeared from Macondo during the insomnia plague and one night he appeared suddenly
in Catarino’s store. The whole town went to listen to him to find out what had happened in the world. On that
occasion there arrived with him a woman who was so fat that four Indians had to carry her in a rocking chair, and
an adolescent mulatto girl with a forlorn look who protected her from the sun with an umbrella. Aureliano went
to Catarino’s store that night. He found Francisco the Man, like a monolithic chameleon, sitting in the midst of a
circle of bystanders. He was singing the news with his old, out-of-tune voice, accompanying himself with the
same archaic accordion that Sir Walter Raleigh had given him in the Guianas and keeping time with his great
walking feet that were cracked from saltpeter. In front of a door at the rear through which men were going and
coming, the matron of the rocking chair was sitting and fanning herself in silence. Catarino, with a felt rose
behind his ear, was selling the gathering mugs of fermented cane juice, and he took advantage of the occasion to
go over to the men and put his hand on them where he should not have. Toward midnight the heat was
unbearable. Aureliano listened to the news to the end without hearing anything that was of interest to his family.
He was getting ready to go home when the matron signaled him with her hand.
“You go in too.?she told him. “It only costs twenty cents.?
Aureliano threw a coin into the hopper that the matron had in her lap and went into the room without knowing
why. The adolescent mulatto girl, with her small bitch’s teats, was naked on the bed. Before Aureliano sixty-three
men had passed through the room that night. From being used so much, kneaded with sweat and sighs, the air in
the room had begun to turn to mud. The girl took off the soaked sheet and asked Aureliano to hold it by one side.
It was as heavy as a piece of canvas. They squeezed it, twisting it at the ends until it regained its natural weight.
They turned over the mat and the sweat came out of the other side. Aureliano was anxious for that operation
never to end. He knew the theoretical mechanics of love, but he could not stay on his feet because of the
weakness of his knees,l2 adena, and although he had goose pimples on his burning skin he could not resist the urgent need
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to expel the weight of his bowels. When the girl finished fixing up the bed and told him to get undressed, he gave
her a confused explanation: “They made me come in. They told me to throw twenty cents into the hopper and
hurry up.?The girl understood his confusion. “If you throw in twenty cents more when you go out, you can stay a

hat as he read with compassionate attention the signs pasted to the walls. He greeted him with a broad show of
affection, afraid that he had known him at another time and that he did not remember him now. But the visitor
was aware of his falseness, He felt himself forgotten, not with the irremediable forgetfulness of the heart, but
with a different kind of forgetfulness, which was more cruel and irrevocable and which he knew very well
because it was the forgetfulness of death. Then he understood. He opened the suitcase crammed with
indecipherable objects and from among then he took out a little case with many flasks. He gave Jos?Arcadio
Buendaa a drink of a gentle color and the light went on in his memory. His eyes became moist from weeping
even before he noticed himself in an absurd living room where objects were labeled and before he was ashamed
of the solemn nonsense written on the walls, and even before he recognized the newcomer with a dazzling glow
of joy. It was Melquaades.
While Macondo was celebrating the recovery of its memory, Jos?Arcadio Buendaa and Melquaades dusted off
their old friendship. The gypsy was inclined to stay in the town. He really had been through death, but he had
returned because he could not bear the solitude. Repudiated by his tribe, having lost all of his supernatural
faculties because of his faithfulness to life, he decided to take refuge in that corner of the world which had still
not been discovered by death, dedicated to the operation of a daguerreotype laboratory. Jos?Arcadio Buendaa had
never heard of that invention. But when he saw himself and his whole family fastened onto a sheet of iridescent
metal for an eternity, he was mute with stupefaction. That was the date of the oxidized daguerreotype in which
Jos?Arcadio Buendaa appeared with his bristly and graying hair, his card board collar attached to his shirt by a
copper button, and an expression of startled solemnity,conan power leveling, whom 2rsula described, dying with laughter, as a
“frightened general.?Jos?Arcadio Buendaa was, in fact,cheap conan gold, frightened on that dear December morning when the
daguerreotype was made, for he was thinking that people were slowly wearing away while his image would
endure an a metallic plaque. Through a curious reversal of custom, it was 2rsula who got that idea out of his
head, as it was also she who forgot her ancient bitterness and decided that Melquaades would stay on in the
house, although she never permitted them to make a daguerreotype of her because (according to her very words)
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she did not want to survive as a laughingstock for her grandchildren. That morning she dressed the children in
their best clothes,aoc power leveling, powdered their faces, and gave a spoonful of marrow syrup to each one so that they would all
remain absolutely motionless during the nearly two minutes in front of Melquaades fantastic camera. In the
family daguerreotype, the only one that ever existed, Aureliano appeared dressed in black velvet between
Amaranta and Rebeca. He had the same languor and the same clairvoyant look that he would have years later as
he faced the firing squad. But he still had not sensed the premonition of his fate. He was an expert silversmith,
praised all over the swampland for the delicacy of his work. In the workshop, which he shared with Melquaades?
mad laboratory, he could barely be heard breathing. He seemed to be taking refuge in some other time,eve isk, while his
father and the gypsy with shouts interpreted the predictions of Nostradamus amidst a noise of flasks and trays
and the disaster of spilled acids and silver bromide that was lost in the twists and turns it gave at every instant.
That dedication to his work, the good judgment with which he directed his attention, had allowed Aureliano to

village of past times it changed into an active town with stores and workshops and a permanent commercial route
over which the first Arabs arrived with their baggy pants and rings in their ears, swapping glass beads for
macaws. Jos?Arcadio Buendaa did not have a moment’s rest. Fascinated by an immediate reality that came to be
more fantastic than the vast universe of his imagination,eve isk, he lost all interest in the alchemist’s laboratory, put to
rest the material that had become attenuated with months of manipulation, and went back to being the
enterprising man of earlier days when he had decided upon the layout of the streets and the location of the new
houses so that no one would enjoy privileges that everyone did not have. He acquired such authority among the
new arrivals that foundations were not laid or walls built without his being consulted, and it was decided that he
should be the one in charge of the distribution of the land. When the acrobat gypsies returned, with their
vagabond carnival transformed now into a gigantic organization of games of luck and chance, they were received
with great joy,cheap flyff penya, for it was thought that Jos?Arcadio would be coming back with them. But Jos?Arcadio did not
return, nor did they come with the snake-man, who, according to what 2rsula thought, was the only one who
could tell them about their son, so the gypsies were not allowed to camp in town or set foot in it in the future, for
they were considered the bearers of concupiscence and perversion. Jos?Arcadio Buendaa, however, was explicit
in maintaining that the old tribe of Melquaades, who had contributed so much to the growth of the village with
his age-old wisdom and his fabulous inventions, would always find the gates open. But Melquaades?tribe,
according to what the wanderers said, had been wiped off the face of the earth because they had gone beyond the
limits of human knowledge.
Emancipated for the moment at least from the torment of fantasy, Jos?Arcadio Buendaa in a short time set up a
system of order and work which allowed for only one bit of license: the freeing of the birds, which,rs money, since the
time of the founding, had made time merry with their flutes, and installing in their place musical clocks in every
house. They were wondrous clocks made of carved wood,flyff money, which the Arabs had traded for macaws and which
Jos?Arcadio Buendaa had synchronized with such precision that every half hour the town grew merry with the
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progressive chords of the same song until it reached the climax of a noontime that was as exact and unanimous as
a complete waltz. It was also Jos?Arcadio Buendaa who decided during those years that they should plant almond
trees instead of acacias on the streets, and who discovered, without ever revealing it, a way to make them live
forever. Many years later, when Macondo was a field of wooden houses with zinc roofs, the broken and dusty
almond trees still stood on the oldest streets, although no one knew who had planted them. While his father was
putting the town in order and his mother was increasing their wealth with her marvelous business of candied
little roosters and fish, which left the house twice a day strung along sticks of balsa wood, Aureliano spent
interminable hours in the abandoned laboratory, learning the art of silverwork by his own experimentation. He
had shot up so fast that in a short time the clothing left behind by his brother no longer fit him and he began to
wear his father’s, but Visitaci?n had to sew pleats in the shirt and darts in the pants, because Aureliano had not
sequined the corpulence of the others. Adolescence had taken away the softness of his voice and had made him