Amaranta and her friends were paralyzed, their needles in the air. “Hello,?he said to them in a tired voice, threw
the saddlebags on a worktable, and went by on his way to the back of the house. “Hello,wow power leveling,?he said to the startled
Rebecca, who saw him pass by the door of her bedroom. “Hello,?he said to Aureliano, who was at his
silversmith’s bench with all five senses alert. He did not linger with anyone. He went directly to the kitchen and
there he stopped for the first time at the end of a trip that had begun of the other side of the world. “Hello,?he
said. 2rsula stood for a fraction of a second with her mouth open,city of villains infamy, looked into his eyes, gave a cry, and flung her
arms around his neck, shouting and weeping with joy. It was Jos?Arcadio. He was returning as poor as when he
had left, to such an extreme that 2rsula had to give him two pesos to pay for the rental of his horse. He spoke a
Spanish that was larded with sailor slang. They asked where he had been and he answered: “Out there.?He hung
his hammock in the room they assigned him and slept for three days. When he woke up, after eating sixteen raw
eggs, he went directly to Catarino’s store,aoc gold, where his monumental size provoked a panic of curiosity among the
women. He called for music and cane liquor for everyone, to be put on his bill. He would Indian-wrestle with
five men at the same time. “It can’t be done,?they said, convinced that they would not be able to move his arm.
“He has ni os-en-cruz.?Catarino,city of villains power leveling, who did not believe in magical tricks of strength, bet him twelve pesos that he
could not move the counter. Jos?Arcadio pulled it out of its place, lifted it over his head, and put it in the street. It
took eleven men to put it back. In the heat of the party he exhibited his unusual masculinity on the bar,
completely covered with tattoos of words in several languages intertwined in blue and red. To the women who
were besieging him and coveting him he put the question as to who would pay the most. The one who had the
most money offered him twenty pesos. Then he proposed raffling himself off among them at ten pesos a chance.
It was a fantastic price because the most sought-after woman earned eight pesos a night, but they all accepted.
They wrote their names on fourteen pieces of paper which they put into a hat and each woman took one out.
When there were only two pieces left to draw, it was established to whom they belonged.
“Five pesos more from each one,?Jos?Arcadio proposed, “and I’ll share myself with both.
He made his living that way. He had been around the world sixty-five times, enlisted in a crew of sailors
without a country. The women who went to bed with him that night in Catarino’s store brought him naked into
the dance salon so that people could see that there was not a square inch of his body that was not tattooed, front
and back, and from his neck to his toes. He did not succeed in becoming incorporated into the family. He slept all
day and spent the night in the red-light district, making bets on his strength. On the rare occasions when 2rsula
got him to sit down at the table, he gave signs of radiant good humor, especially when he told about his
adventures in remote countries. He had been shipwrecked and spent two weeks adrift in the Sea of Japan, feeding
on the body of a comrade who had succumbed to sunstroke and whose extremely salty flesh as it cooked in the
sun had a sweet and granular taste. Under a bright noonday sun in the Gulf of Bengal his ship had killed a sea
dragon, in the stomach of which they found the helmet, the buckles, and the weapons of a Crusader. In the
Caribbean he had seen the ghost of the pirate ship of Victor Hugues, with its sails torn by the winds of death, the
masts chewed by sea worms, and still looking for the course to Guadeloupe. 2rsula would weep at the table as if
she were reading the letters that had never arrived and in which Jos?Arcadio told about his deeds and
misadventures. “And there was so much of a home here for you, my son,?she would sob, “and so much food
thrown to the hogs!?But underneath it an she could not conceive that the boy the gypsies took away was the
same lout who would eat half a suckling pig for lunch and whose flatulence withered the flowers. Something
similar took place with the rest of the family. Amaranta could not conceal the repugnance that she felt at the table
the firing squad, had an intense paleness and a hard lump in his throat when he met the bride at the door of the
house and led her to the altar. She behaved as naturally, with such discretion, that she did not lose her composure,
not even when Aureliano dropped the ring as he tried to put it on her finger. In the midst of the. murmurs and
confusion of the guests, she kept her arm with the fingerless lace glove held up and remained like that with her
ring finger ready until the bridegroom managed to stop the ring with his foot before it rolled to the door, and
came back blushing to the altar. Her mother and sisters suffered so much from the fear that the child would do
something wrong during the ceremony that in the end they were the ones who committed the impertinence of
picking her up to kiss her. From that day on the sense of responsibility, the natural grace, the calm control that
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Remedios would have in the face of adverse circumstances was revealed. It was she who, on her own initiative,
put aside the largest piece that she had cut from the wedding cake and took it on a plate with a fork to Jos?
Arcadio Buendaa. Tied to the trunk of the chestnut tree, huddled on a wooden stool underneath the palm shelter,
the enormous old man,wow power leveling, discolored by the sun and rain, made a vague smile of gratitude and at the piece of cake
with his fingers, mumbling an unintelligible psalm. The only unhappy person in that noisy celebration, which
lasted until dawn on Monday, was Rebeca Buendaa. It was her own frustrated party. By an arrangement of
2rsula’s, her marriage was to be celebrated on the same day, but that Friday Pietro Crespi received a letter with
the news of his mother’s imminent death. The wedding was postponed. Pietro Crespi left for the capital of the
province an hour after receiving the letter, and on the road he missed his mother, who arrived punctually
Saturday night and at Aureliano’s wedding sang the sad aria that she had prepared for the wedding of her son.
Pietro Crespi returned on Sunday midnight to sweep up the ashes of the party, after having worn out five horses
on the road in an attempt to be in time for his wedding. It was never discovered who wrote the letter. Tormented
by 2rsula,city of heroes influence, Amaranta wept with indignation and swore her innocence in front of the altar, which the carpenters
had not finished dismantling.
Father Nicanor Reyna?awhom Don Apolinar Moscote had brought from the swamp to officiate at the wedding
?awas an old man hardened by the ingratitude of his ministry. His skin was sad, with the bones almost exposed,
and he had a pronounced round stomach and the expression of an old angel, which came more from, simplicity
than from goodness. He had planned to return to his pariah after the wedding, but he was appalled at the hardness
of the inhabitants of Macondo, who were prospering in the midst of scandal,rs gold, subject to the natural law, without
baptizing their children or sanctifying their festivals. Thinking that no land needed the seed of God so much, he
decided to stay on for another week to Christianize both circumcised and gentile, legalize concubinage, and give
the sacraments to the dying. But no one paid any attention to him. They would answer him that they had been
many years without a priest,aoc gold, arranging the business of their souls directly with God, and that they had lost the
evil of original sin. Tired of preaching in the open, Father Nicanor decided to undertake the building of a church,
the largest in the world, with life-size saints and stained-glass windows on the sides, so that people would come
from Rome to honor God in the center of impiety. He went everywhere begging alms with a copper dish. They
gave him a large amount, but he wanted more, because the church had to have a bell that would raise the
the dancing and the mechanism did not work. Melquaades, almost blind by then,wow power leveling, crumbling with decrepitude,
used the arts of his timeless wisdom in an attempt to fix it. Finally Jos?Arcadio Buendaa managed, by mistake, to
move a device that was stuck and the music came out, first in a burst and then in a flow of mixed-up notes.
Beating against the strings that had been put in without order or concert and had been tuned with temerity,buy warcraft gold, the
hammers let go. But the stubborn descendants of the twenty-one intrepid people who plowed through the
mountains in search of the sea to the west avoided the reefs of the melodic mix-up and the dancing went on until
dawn.
Pietro Crespi came back to repair the pianola. Rebeca and Amaranta helped him put the strings in order and
helped him with their laughter at the mix-up of the melodies. It was extremely pleasant and so chaste in its way
that 2rsula ceased her vigilance. On the eve of his departure a farewell dance for him was improvised with the
pianola and with Rebeca he put on a skillful demonstration of modern dance, Arcadio and Amaranta matched
them in grace and skill. But the exhibition was interrupted because Pilar Ternera, who was at the door with the
onlookers, had a fight, biting and hair pulling, with a woman who had dared to comment that Arcadio had a
woman’s behind. Toward midnight Pietro Crespi took his leave with a sentimental little speech, and he promised
to return very soon. Rebeca accompanied him to the door, and having closed up the house and put out the lamps,
she went to her room to weep. It was an inconsolable weeping that lasted for several days, the cause of which
was not known even by Amaranta. Her hermetism was not odd. Although she seemed expansive and cordial, she
had a solitary character and an impenetrable heart. She was a splendid adolescent with long and firm bones, but
she still insisted on using the small wooden rocking chair with which she had arrived at the house, reinforced
many times and with the arms gone. No one had discovered that even at that age she still had the habit of sucking
her finger. That was why she would not lose an opportunity to lock herself in the bathroom and had acquired the
habit of sleeping with her face to the wall. On rainy afternoons, embroidering with a group of friends on the
begonia porch, she would lose the thread of the conversation and a tear of nostalgia would salt her palate when
she saw the strips of damp earth and the piles of mud that the earthworms had pushed up in the garden. Those
secret tastes, defeated in the past by oranges and rhubarb, broke out into an irrepressible urge when she began to
weep. She went back to eating earth. The first time she did it almost out of curiosity,runescape power leveling, sure that the bad taste would
be the best cure for the temptation. And, in fact, she could not bear the earth in her mouth. But she persevered,
overcome by the growing anxiety,aoc gold, and little by little she was getting back her ancestral appetite, the taste of
primary minerals, the unbridled satisfaction of what was the original food. She would put handfuls of earth in her
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pockets, and ate them in small bits without being seen, with a confused feeling of pleasure and rage, as she
instructed her girl friends in the most difficult needlepoint and spoke about other men, who did not deserve the
sacrifice of having one eat the whitewash on the walls because of them. The handfuls of earth made the only man
who deserved that show of degradation less remote and more certain, as if the ground that he walked on with his
fine patent leather boots in another part of the world were transmitting to her the weight and the temperature of
his blood in a mineral savor that left a harsh aftertaste in her mouth and a sediment of peace in her heart. One