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霍乱时期的爱情|Love in the Time of Cholera

第六章|Chapter 6

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 加夫列尔-加西亚-马尔克斯] 阅读：[7807]
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费尔米纳不能想象，她那封在气得发昏的情况下写出来的信，居然被阿里萨认做一封情书。她在那封信里发泄了全部的激怒，情绪激烈，语带讥讽，令人难以忍受，何况还是不公正的。然而，在她看来，跟她受的伤害和侮辱相比，这一切都是微不足道的。这是她两个星期忍辱负重的最后一个行动，以便使自己安宁下来，适应新的环境。她想再次成为原来的费尔米纳，收回半个世纪奴仆般的生活中自己不得不让出的一切。这种奴仆般的生活无疑使她幸福，但是丈夫一死，连一点印迹都没给她留下。她象是在别人家里游荡的幽灵，那房子瞬间变得宽大而凄凉，她在里边百无聊赖地到处徘徊，不断痛苦地自问，谁是真正的亡魂：是死了的丈夫还是她这个未亡人。

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丈夫把她一个人孤单地留在昏暗的茫茫大海里，她无法抑制内心里对他的怨恨。

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他的一切都使她伤心落泪：枕头下的睡衣，象病人穿的平底拖鞋，对他站在镜子前脱衣服的形象——常常在她准备上床时——的回忆，以及他的皮肤的气味——这味道在他死后很长时间还顽固地留在她身上。不管做什么事，她都会边做边停，拍拍额头，因为突然想起了有什么事没有告诉他。时刻都有许多只有他才能回答的问题钻进她的脑子里。有一次他告诉了她一件她困惑不解的事：截了胶的人，能感觉到他们失去的腿上的疼痛和痉挛。如今她也有这类感觉了，她已失去了丈夫，但她感到他仍在身边。

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编剧的第一个早晨，她在床上还没睁眼就翻了个身，想找个更舒服的姿势继续再睡，正是这时，她才觉得他死了。只有此时她才意识到他第一次没有在家过夜。

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在餐桌上，她倒不是因为少了一个人感到孤单，而是由于她莫名其妙地相信，她在和一个已不存在的人一块用餐。她等女儿奥费利亚夫妇以及他们的孩子们从新奥尔良回家后再重新坐在桌子前吃饭，但不是通常的那张桌子，而是一张她让人临时摆在廊里的较小的桌子。她一直没有正正经经地做顿饭。饥饿时，随便走进厨房，把勺子伸进锅里，随便吃一点什么，也不使用盘子，而是一边吃，一边站在小炉子跟前和女仆们说话。她们是她唯一喜欢和更合得来的人。

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然而，无论她如何努力，已故丈夫的形象总萦绕在她的脑海里，不管她在哪儿，也不管她做什么事情，都会使她回忆起他来。虽然在她看来，痛苦是理所当然的，但她也想尽量不沉溺于痛苦之中。她下了狠心将一切触发她回忆起已故丈夫的东西，都从家中清除干净，在失去丈夫的情况下，这是她想出的唯一能使自己依旧在这家里住下去的方法。

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这是一次彻底的大清除。儿子同意将书房的书籍全部拿走，好让她把书房改为缝纫室——她从结婚以后一直没有这样的房间。女儿则同意拿走一些家具和许多她认为很适于在新奥尔良古董行拍卖的东西，这一切使费尔米纳感到宽慰。但她后来知道旅行结婚时所买的东西已成为古董商的文物，又觉得很不是滋味。她不顾佣人们沉默的惊讶，也不管左邻右舍或在那几天中来陪她的朋友们的困惑不解，让人在房后的空地上点起一堆火，把能使她回忆起丈夫的东西一古脑儿烧掉：其中有从上一个世纪以来本城最昂贵最考究的衣服，最精致的皮鞋，比像片更酷肖他本人的帽子，死前最后一次从上面起身的摇椅，以及无数与他的生活紧紧相连并已成为他本人组成部分的物件。她毫不犹豫地做了这件事，这不仅仅为了卫生，并且也坚信丈夫如果在天有灵也会同意她这么做，因为他曾好几次向她表示，死后愿意火化，而不愿被装进针得严密合缝的黑洞洞的雪松木棺材。当然，他所信的宗教不允许这么做。他曾大着胆子试探过大主教的意思，探索一下可能性，但是大主教给了他一个断然否定的答案：这是彻头彻尾的幻想，教会不允许在公墓中设置焚尸炉，哪怕专供异教徒使用也不行。除了乌尔比诺医生想得出来建造这样的焚尸炉外，别人谁也想不到。费尔米纳没有忘记丈夫的那种恐惧，即使在最初几个钟头的懵懵懂懂中，她也没有忘记吩咐木匠在棺材上留一道缝透亮，以此作为对丈夫的安慰。

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无论如何，那都只是些徒劳无益的行动。费尔米纳很快就发现，对亡夫的记忆是如此牢固，没有随着日子的流逝而有所削弱。更糟糕的是，衣服焚毁后，她不但仍旧十分怀念她所爱的丈夫的许多东西，尤为烦心的是她仿佛时刻都听到丈夫起身时发出的那种响声。这些回忆使她摆脱了忧伤。她超脱一切，下决心在回忆已故丈夫中继续生活下去，就当他没有死一样。她知道，每天早上醒来时仍然不是味儿，但是会逐渐好起来的。

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果然，过了三周，她开始看见最初的几道光线了。可是，随着光线的增加和越来越明亮，她渐渐意识到在自己的生活中有一个邪恶的幽灵，使她一刻也不得安宁。

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那个幽灵，已经不是那个当年在“福音”公园偷偷窥视她的令人怜悯的幽灵——使她在步入老年后还经常温情地回忆着的幽灵，而是那个穿着折磨人的长礼服，把帽子压在胸前的令人深恶痛绝的幽灵，他的愚蠢的冒失行为弄得她为此惶惶不安，以致她实在无法不想他。自从她十八岁拒婚以后，她始终相信，播在他身上的仇恨的种子会随着时间的推移而生根发芽。她时刻都感觉到这种仇恨，当那幽灵在附近的时候，她感到仇恨随之在空中飘荡。只要一看见他，她就心慌意乱，六神无主。那天晚上，她丈夫的遗体旁的鲜花还散发着幽香，她认为他那粗鄙的言行只不过是第一步，天晓得这后面隐藏着多少阴险的复仇企图。

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他顽固地出现在她的脑海里，她越想越恨自己。葬礼的第二天，一觉醒来她想起他时，使劲皱了皱眉头，做了个坚定的动作，终于把他从脑海里驱赶了出去。可是，赶走的愤怒旋即恢复，她很快就明白了，越想忘掉他，就越会记得他。于是，她终于为旧情所战胜，鼓起勇气，开始回忆那个未能实现的爱情的梦幻般的时光。

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她尽力回想当时的小公园、折断的扁桃树和他坐在上面向她求爱的长靠背椅是什么样子，似乎这一切都失去了本来面貌。一切都变了，树被砍走，黄叶铺成的地毯也已不见。在被新首的英雄塑像处，人们重新树起了另一个人的塑像，他身着华丽制服，无名无姓，没有日期，也没有对塑像的说明。塑像下有一个很有气派的墩座，里边安装着本地段的电力控制装置。——多年以前她家的房子就已经被卖掉，在省政府手里毁坏得七零八落。

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想象出当时阿里萨的样子，对她并非易事，但要认出雨中那个无依无靠、沉默寡言的小伙子跟站在她面前的这个陈腐的虚弱多病的老头儿是一个人就更不容易。

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这个人完全不顾她的处境，对她的痛苦没有起码的尊重，而是用一种烈火般的侮辱来煎熬她的灵魂，这就逼得她说不出话，透不过气来。

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她在弗洛雷斯?德马利亚庄园呆了一段时间，忘却了林奇小姐给她带来的倒霉时刻后回家不久，伊尔德布兰达表姐来看她了。表姐眼下又老又胖，但显得幸福快活，由大儿子陪着。这儿子跟他父亲一样，曾当过陆军上校，可是由于他屠杀大沼泽地圣?胡安香蕉园工人的不体面举动，受到父亲的斥责。表姐妹两人相见过多次，每次时光都在回想他们相识的日子中慢慢过去。在最后一次来访时，伊尔德布兰达比任何时候都更怀念昔日，流年似水，自己也已上了年纪，不禁百感交集。

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为了回忆往事，她带了一张她们装扮古代资夫人的照片，那是比利时摄影师在年轻的乌尔比诺看中任性的费尔米纳的那个下午给她们拍摄的。费尔米纳自己的那张已经丢失，伊尔德布兰达这张也已消褪得几乎看不清楚，但是透过那张模模糊糊的照片，尚能辨认出她们当年年轻、漂亮的风姿，可惜这一切都已经过去，永远不会再来了。

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要想使伊尔德布兰达不谈起阿里萨是不可能的，因为她一直将他的命运与自己的命运联系在一起。她回想起自从她拍出第一封电报后，再也无法从心中把他那个注定被恋人遗忘的忧伤而瘦小的形象忘掉。费尔米纳曾和他见过许多次面，但没跟他说过话，她不能想象他就是自己第一次爱过的那一个人。关于他的消息统统都传到了她的耳朵里，就家本城所有那些多少有点名气的人物的消息迟早都会传到她耳朵里一样。人们说他从未结婚，因为他跟别人的习惯不一样，可这也没有引起她的注意。原因是对传言她向来不理会，还因为许多男子的这类事常常被传得失去了原有的面貌。相反，她感到奇怪的是阿里萨仍坚持穿他那古怪的服装，用他的奇特的洗涤剂。此外，在他以如此引人注目和体面的方式开辟了一条生活之路之后，仍旧使人感到神秘和费解。她不能相信他就是原来的那位阿里萨。当伊尔德布兰达叹息“可怜的人儿，他受了多少苦哟”时，总是感到惊讶。因为好久以来她看到他时，已经没有痛楚的感情，他的影子已从她心中消失了。

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然而，她从弗洛雷斯?德马利亚镇回来后有一天晚上看电影碰到了他，她的心中油然产生了一种怪异的感情。他跟一个黑种女人在一起，她毫不在意。可她惊讶的是，他居然保养有方，举止潇洒。她没想到，由于林奇小姐突然闯进了她的私生活，发生变化的居然是自己，而不是他。从此时起，二十多年中，她用更同情的眼光继续观察着他。为丈夫守灵的那天晚上，她不仅认为他去那儿可以理解，而且甚至认为那表明他对她的怨恨已经烟消云散：那是一个原谅与忘却往事的行动。所以，当他戏剧性地向她重申在她看来从来没有存在过的爱情时，她大为惊奇。她认为到了她和阿里萨这种年纪，除了凑合着活下去之外，已不能有其它渴望了。

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在象征性地为丈夫举行了火葬仪式后，第一次冲击给她带来的巨大愤怒不但丝毫没有消除，而且还在继续增加，甚至当她感到无力控制的时候，这怒气还朝各个方向扩散开来。更在甚者，她努力减弱对亡夫的回忆，但腾出的记忆空间却逐步以一种无情的方式被隐藏着对阿里萨的记忆的虞美人草坪所占据。就这样，她总是被迫地想着他，越想他就越气，越气就越想他，她觉得实在无法忍受，简直要发疯了。

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于是，她坐到了亡夫的写字台前，给阿里萨激动地写了一封长达三页的信，她在信中把他大骂了一通，并且无情地向他挑战，有意识地做了这件她漫长的一生中最不名誉的事情之后，她才感到了宽慰。

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对阿里萨来说，那三个星期也是极度痛苦的。在向费尔米纳重申爱情的那天晚上，他沿着当天下午被洪水冲坏的街道，漫无目标地游荡，不时惊恐地自问，他刚刚把那只抵挡了他半个多世纪的围困的老虎杀死，现在该拿这张老虎皮怎么办？由于洪水的凶猛冲击，城市处于紧张状态。在一些房子里，半裸着身子的男男女女想从洪水中随便携出点什么东西来。阿里萨觉得大众的那场灾难与自己息息相关。但是，空气是平静的，加勒比天空的星星在自己的位置上一动不动。突然，在无比的沉寂中，阿里萨听出了许多年以前他和卡西亚妮在同一时间、同一街角听到的那个男声唱：“我从桥头回来，满脸沾满泪水。”

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从某种意义上讲，这只歌那天晚上与死亡有点关系，但只是对阿里萨来说是如此。

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他从来没有象当年那样如此思念特兰西托，他想起了她的聪明的话语和用纸花打扮起来的愚弄人的美女的发式。每当他处于灾难的边缘时，他都需要一个女人的庇护，这对他是无法避免的。因而，他去了师范学校，去寻求可以得到的女人。

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他看见在阿美利卡?维库尼亚寝室的一长溜窗户上有灯光。他费了好大的劲，才控制住自己，没有象老祖父一样疯狂地在凌晨两点钟，把那个睡得正香的象他孙女服的女孩从散发着她的鼻息的摇篮里带走。

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在城市的另一端，卡西亚妮独身一人，自由自在，不管在凌晨两点、三点，还是在任何时候，她都愿意给予他所需要的同情。在她失眠的折磨中去敲她的门，这对他来说并不是第一次，但是他懂得，她太聪明，他们又爱得太深，只要他在她怀中哭泣，就只好向她道出悲伤的真实原因。在荒凉的城市中，他象夜游神似的走着，考虑了许久，最后还是觉得去找“双料寡妇”普鲁维登西亚?皮特雷比找任何别的女人更合适。她比他小十岁。他们在上一个世纪就已相识。他们一度没有来往，只是因为她不愿让他看见她现时那副样子：半失眠，老态龙钟。

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一想到她，阿里萨立刻往回走到彭塔纳斯大街，在一个卖东西的拎包里装了两瓶欧波尔图葡萄酒、一瓶泡菜，然后再去看她，实际上他连她是不是在原来的家里，是不是一个人独处，或者是不是还活着都不知道。

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普鲁维登西亚?皮特雷还没有忘记他们的暗号，听到他用指甲抓门她就明白是他来了。开始用这个暗号时他们自以为还年轻，但实际并非如此。她问都没问就给他开门。街上漆黑，他穿着黑呢料衣服，戴着硬帽，蝙蝠式雨伞挂在臂上，几乎让人看不到。她眼神不好，光线又阴暗，自然看不清楚他是谁。但是，她借着金属眼镜架闪出的灯笼般的光亮，立刻认出了他。看上去他象个双手还沾满鲜血的杀人凶手。

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“请收留一下我这个可怜的孤儿吧！”他说。

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为了找个话题，这是他说的唯一的话。他很吃惊，从上一次见面以来，她竟老了这么多，同时他意识到，她也会同样这么看他。但是，他随即又想，过上一会儿，当两个人都从久别重逢的最初惊愕中恢复过来以后，又会慢慢发觉对方身上少了些生活的伤痕，重新觉得都还是象四十年前刚认识时那般年轻。这么一想，他也就得到了安慰。

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“你好象参加了葬礼。”她说。

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确实如此。她也象全市的人那样，从十一点钟起就呆在窗前，观看着自德鲁纳大主教死后所见到的最大、最豪华的送葬队伍浩浩荡荡地通过。那震撼大地的炮声，乱哄哄的军乐声，以及盖过从头一天起就敲个不停的所有大教堂混杂在一起的钟声的葬歌声，将她从午睡中吵醒。她从阳台上看见了穿着仪仗队制服并骑着马的军人，宗教社团，学校队伍，当局人士乘坐的长长的拉下窗慢的黑色旅游车，戴着帽檐插着羽毛的头盔、披着金马披的马拖着的马车，用一等历史性的炮架拖着的盖着旗帜的黄色棺材和排列在最后的一溜老式敞篷马车，它们载着花圈，显得十分活跃。午后不久，这支送葬队伍刚从普鲁维登西亚?皮特雷的阳台前过去，大雨便倾盆而下，人们惊逃四散。

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“真是没有比这更荒唐的死法了！”她说。

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“死可没有荒唐的含义。”他说，然后又伤感地补充道，“在我们这种年纪更是如此。”

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他们坐在平台上面对广阔的大海，看着月亮，月亮四周的光环几乎占据了半个天空，看着远处航船上五颜六色的灯火闪烁不止。他们一边享受着暴风雨后吹来的暖和而带香气的轻风，一边喝着欧波尔图葡萄酒，吃着泡菜和普鲁维登西亚?皮特雷从一个大面包上切下来的面包片。她无儿无女，三十五岁守寡，他们在一起度过了许多类似的夜晚。阿里萨见到她的时候，正是她可以接待任何愿意陪她的男人的时候，哪怕是按小时把男人租来。但他们两人建立起了一种看上去比实际更严肃、更持久的关系。

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虽然她从来没有暗示过，但是如果他愿意的话，她早就会和他举行第二次婚礼了，哪怕是等于把灵魂出卖给魔鬼。她知道要顺从他的吝啬，适应他未老先衰的萎颓，他的古怪的秉性，他的想得到一切而一毛不拔的欲望，是不容易的。可是，话也说回来，没有比他更乐意让女人陪伴的男子了，因为世界上没有第二个男人如此需要爱。可是，世界上也没有比他更油滑的男人了。因此，她对他的爱每次都适可而止，以不干预他自由地去爱费尔米纳的决心为界线。尽管如此，他们的关系，即使在他收拾了一切，使普鲁维登西亚?皮特雷重新与一个来此做三个月生意和旅行的商业代理人结婚后，仍旧保持了许多年。她跟这个商人生有一女四子，可据她发誓说，其中一个是阿里萨的。

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他们只顾交谈，不管时间，因为两人年轻时就习惯了共同分担他们的失眠。如今上了年纪，失眠对他们就更无所谓。虽然阿里萨几乎从不超过两杯，可今夜他已喝过三杯还没有缓过气来。他大汗淋漓，“双料寡妇”劝他脱掉外衣、坎肩和长裤，如果他愿意的话，可以全部脱去，怕什么，归根结底，他们赤身裸体比穿着衣服更能相互了解。他说，要是她脱他也脱，可她不愿意。许久以前，她照过一次大衣柜镜子，突然明白，她已没有勇气让他或任何人看到自己的裸体了。

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阿里萨很兴奋，喝了四杯欧波尔图葡萄酒还没平静下来。他继续谈着过去，谈着对过去的美好回忆，许多年以来这是他唯一的话题，他渴望从过去的历史中找到一条途径，来发泄自己郁积在心头的烦闷，使自己轻松下来。这是他们需要的，他要把一切都讲出来。当他看到天边最初的几道亮光时，便试图以平静的方式跟“双料寡妇”亲近。他似乎偶然地问她：“你现在成了寡妇，又上了年纪，如果有人提出跟你结婚，你将怎么办？”她笑得脸上起了皱纹，反过来问他道：“你指的是乌尔比诺的寡妇吧？”

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阿里萨总是忘记，他最不应该不知道女人们对问题的隐秘比对问题本身想得更多，普鲁维登西亚波特雷尤甚。他被她一针见血的叫人胆寒的话弄得慌了手脚，赶快否认道：“我说的是你。”她又笑了：“骗你的婊子娘去吧！愿她在地下安息。”

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她逼他把一吐为快的事说出来。因为她知道，不管是他，还是别的任何一个男人，都不会在多年久别之后，仅仅为了喝欧波尔图葡萄酒和吃泡菜加面包而在凌晨三点钟叫醒她的。她说：“这事只有一个人极端痛苦时才做得出。”阿里萨败下阵来。

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“这次你可错了。”他说，“今晚我来的目的更确切地说是为了唱歌。”

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“那我们就唱吧！”她说。

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于是，他开始以动听的声音唱起当时的流行歌曲：“拉蒙娜，没有你，我可怎么活。”这一夜就到此结束了。这女人向他表明了她是多么神机妙算，他没敢跟她玩那种禁止的游戏。他走了出去，仿佛到了另一座城市。那里开着六月里最后一株变种大丽花，显得十分稀奇。新修的街道还笼罩在夜幕里，去赶五点早弥撒的寡妇们一个接一个地赶过去。那时，为了避开相遇，是他，而不是她们，不得不走到另一条人行道上去，以免她们看到他止不住的眼泪。这些眼泪不是象他认为的那样，自半夜一直忍着的眼泪，而是从五十一年九个月零四天起就强咽着的眼泪。

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他已经不知道到了什么时候，醒来也不知是在什么地方，只看到对面有个耀眼的大窗户。阿美利卡?维库尼亚和女佣们在花园里玩球的声音使他回到现实中来。

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原来他是在母亲的床上，母亲的卧室原封未动地保存着，他常常在那儿睡觉，在孤独折磨得他坐立不安的时候，这样可以减少一点寂寞，当然这样的时候并不多。床对面是堂?桑乔客店的那面大镜子，只要一看见它，也就等于看见了映在里面的费尔米纳。他知道今天是星期六，因为只有这一天，司机才从寄宿学校把阿美利加?维库尼亚接回家的。他明白了，他不知不觉地睡了一觉，并且做了一个梦，梦到自己睡不着，费尔米纳在满面怒容地注视着他。他一面洗澡，一面想下一步该怎么做。

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他不慌不忙地穿上自己最漂亮的衣服，洒了香水，粘好尖尖的白胡子。一走出卧室，他就从二层楼的走廊上看到了那个穿制服的漂亮姑娘，她正在跳起来接球，那迷人的神态有多少个星期六曾使他激动得发抖，可这天早上却没使他在感情上有丝毫波动，他让她跟他一块走。他带她到了美洲冷饮店，那儿挤满了带着孩子在天花板的大吊扇下吃冰激凌的父母们。阿美利卡?维库尼亚要了一个几层不同颜色的冰激凌，放在一只大玻璃杯中。这是她最喜欢的冰激凌，也是店里最畅销的，因为它能散发一种神奇的烟雾。阿里萨一边喝黑咖啡，一边看着她。她在用一把很长的小勺吃冰激凌，吃得很干净，连底都没有剩下。他目不转睛地看着她，突然对她说：“我要结婚了。”

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她捏着勺子，带着疑惑的神情，看着他的眼睛，马上镇静下来，笑了笑。

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“骗人，”她说，“老头子不会结婚的。”

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那个下午，他们在公园一块看了木偶戏，在防波堤的炸鱼摊上吃了午饭，看了刚到本城的一个马戏团的笼子里的猛兽。在城门那儿买了带到学校去的各种各样的甜食。在城里他们乘敞篷汽车转了几圈，这是为了让她逐渐习惯这样的概念：他现在是她的监护人，而不是她的情夫。尔后，在一阵不停的倾盆大雨中，在敲晚祷钟时他把她准时送到了寄宿学校。星期天，他没有露面，但给她派了汽车，以便她和女友一起出游。从前一个星期开始，他清清楚楚地看到了两人年龄的差距。那天晚上他决心给费尔米纳写封请求谅解的信，哪怕口气硬一些也可以。实际上这封信他第二天才写。星期一，正好在他受了三周的煎熬之后，他被大雨浇得象个落汤鸡似的走进家门，一眼就看到了她的来信。

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那是晚上八点。两个女佣都已躺下，她们点着走廊里唯一的一盏“长明灯”，以便让阿里萨照着亮走进寝室。他知道，他的简单乏味的晚餐已经摆在饭厅的桌子上。但是，多少天以来，他一直没什么胃口，常常胡乱吃点东西作罢。由于看到信，仅有的一点饿意也因为心情激动而消失了。他的手哆嗦着，费了好大劲才点看了寝室的灯。他把泡湿了的信放在床上，点着了床头柜上的小灯。然后，象惯常那样，竭力装得没事似的，使自己平静下来，脱下湿透了的外套，挂到符背上，又脱下坎肩叠好放在外套上。接着，他解下黑丝带和当今已不流行的赛瑞格衣领，把衬衣。

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扣也解到齐腰处，松开了腰带，使呼吸畅通。最后，。地摘下帽子放到窗户旁去吹干。他突然一惊，身体颤抖了一下，他想不起把信放在何处了。他紧张万分，找到时反而吃了一惊，因为他已不记得将信放到床上去了。打开信以前，他先用手绢把信封擦干，注意不让他的名字被黑水湮开。在拆信的同时，他意识到，已经有第三者知情了，因为乌尔比诺的遗憾在丈夫刚刚死了三个星期就匆忙地写信给她的社交范围以外的人，没有通过邮寄，也没有让别人亲自交到收信人手上，而是神秘地象写匿名便条一样从门缝里塞进去。不管送信的人是谁，对这样的事儿都会注意的。

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信封上的浆糊已被水浸湿，不用拆就开了，但里面还是干的，密密麻麻地写了三页，没有抬头，签名是她婚后所用名字的头几个字母。

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他倚在床上，飞速地把信看了一遍，使他惊奇的与其说是信的内容，毋宁说是信的语气，还没看到第二页，他已知道那正是他等着的挨骂的信。他将信展开，放在床头柜的台灯下，然后脱下湿迹难的鞋子和袜子，关上大灯，最后带上岩羚羊皮护须罩，未解农就躺下来，枕在用来当靠背的两个大枕头上，他继续读着信。他把信重新看了一遍，一个字一个字地看，不漏过任何一个字，接着他又看了四遍，直至看得麻木不仁，不知道信上说了什么为止。最后他将信放在床头柜的抽屉里，仰面躺下来，双手交叉枕在脑后。四个小时以内，他的眼睛一动不动地盯着她曾照过的镜子，大气不出，象死人一样。午夜十二点整，他到厨房去煮了一壶浓得跟石油原油似的咖啡，拿到寝室，将假牙放进硼酸水里，这硼酸水时刻都放在床头柜上。

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他又象一块大理石一般躺下来，隔一会儿变换一下姿势，喝一口咖啡，直到第二天早上六点钟女佣送来满满一壶咖啡为止。

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这时候，阿里萨已心中有数，知道该怎样一步一步地走下去了。事实上，他读了那些谴责他的话并不感到难过，也无意去把那些不公道的非难辨个水落石出。他了解费尔米纳的性格和问题的关键，要避免把事情弄得更加糟糕。他唯一感兴趣的是这封信本身给了他机会，并且承认他有权作答复。说得更明确些，是她要他答复。

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这样，生活现在就处于他想把她带去的地方，其余的一切就取决于他了，而他确信，他那半个多世纪的地狱生活还会给他以极其严重的考验，他准备带着更大的热情、更大的痛苦。更深沉的爱情去面对这些考验，因为这将是最后的考验。

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接到费尔米纳的回信后五天，他来到办公室时心里感到空荡荡的，周围出现了一种不常见的现象，没有打字机的响声，而寂静比噼噼啪啪雨点般的打字声更引起人们的注意。不过那是暂时的停顿，当那爆豆般的声音重新开始响起来时，阿里萨不由自主地推开卡西亚妮的办公室的门。他看见她坐在自己的打字机前，那打字机象个活人似的听从她指尖的使唤，她发觉有人在窥视她，以她那奇特而可怕的微笑向门口瞥了一眼，但她没有停下来，而是继续把那段文字打完。

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“请告诉我一件事，我亲爱的母狮，”阿里萨问，“要是你收到一封极不礼貌的情书，你将作何感想？”

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她平日对什么都不在乎，可听了这话，脸上却露出了诧异的神情。

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“天哪！”她惊呼道，“你看，我从来没有遇到过这种事！”

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既然如此，她也就难以作出回答。其实，在这之前，阿里萨没有考虑过这件事，于是他决定一不做二不休，干脆冒险到底。在职员善意的嘲笑中，他将办公室的一架打字机搬到了家里。“老鹦鹉学不会说话。”职员说。卡西亚妮对任何新鲜事儿都爱凑热闹，自告奋勇教他打字。

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但是，从洛塔里奥?特玛古特想按乐谱教他拉小提琴时起，他就反对全面系统的学习方法。当时治塔里奥曾吓唬他说，至少要学一年。能进职业乐队演奏至少得五年。要出人头地，每天起码练六小时。然而，他让母亲给他买了一把盲人小提琴，依照洛塔里奥给他指出的五项基本规则，练了不到一年，竟然敢在教堂合唱队表演，也能在穷人公墓那里给费尔米纳演奏小夜曲，让清风传授给她。如果在二十岁能学会拉小提琴，那还有什么事能难倒他呢。他不懂为什么到了七十六岁就不能学会只用一个指头即可操纵打字机呢!

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他想得果然有理。他花了三天的时间来记熟键盘上字母的位置，又花了六天时间学会一面想一面打字，又用三天的时间在撕坏了半令纸后打出了第一封准确无误的信。在信的开头他放了庄严的称呼：夫人，而自己的签名则用自己名字的第一个字母，象在年轻时洒了香水的信一样。他将信邮寄出去，信封上有哀悼的花饰，这是给新寡的女人写信必须遵守的规矩。信封上没有写寄信人的姓名。

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这封信写了六页，它和过去的任何一封信都不一样，无论是语调、文风还是修辞，都和初恋时的情书边然不同。他的论述是如此合情合理，如此有分寸。在某种程度上说，这是他写得最恰如其分的商业函件。如果在数年之后，用打字机打私人信件几乎被认为是一种侮辱，然而在当时，打字机还是办公室里一种没有自己伦理道德的“动物”，在家庭里广泛使用它尚未载入都市的史册。用打字机书写更象是一种大胆的改革行动，费尔米纳大概就是这么理解的，因为在她收到阿里萨四十多封信后给他写的第二封信中，一开头就首先请求他原谅他的字体难以辨认，因为她没有比钢笔更先进的书写工具。

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阿里萨在信中根本没有提起她寄给他的那封问罪的信，而是从一开始就想采取一种截然不同的方式开导她，对过去的恋情丝毫不涉及。总之，过去的事只字不提，一切从头开始。更确切地说，那是根据自己对男女之间关系的观点和经验以及关于人生的广泛思索得出的结论。他曾经想把这些内容写出来作为精书大全》一书的补充。只是此时，他把这种思考遮掩在一种长者的风度之后，有如老人的回忆录，以便不叫人明显地看出那份爱情文献的实质。他先按旧模式起草了许多底稿，为了不费时费力加以修改，他把它们干脆付诸一炬。他知道，任何常规的疏忽，些微的怀念之情，都可能搅起她心中对往事的痛苦回忆。虽然他预料她在鼓起勇气撕开第一封信之前会把一百封信退给他，可他还是希望退信的事情一次也不要发生。因此，他象筹划一次决战那样，反复斟酌信中的每一个措辞。一切都需与从前的信不同，以便在一个经历了大半生的女人身上激起新的好奇、新的希望和新的兴趣。这封信应该是一种丧失理智的幻想，能给予她渴望得到的勇气，把一个阶级的偏见扔进垃圾堆里。这个阶级不是她出身的阶级，但最后变得比任何其他阶级更象她出身的阶级。这封信应该教会她把爱情想成美好的事情，而不是达到某种目的的手段，而且爱情本身就应该有始有终。

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他清楚地意识到不能指望立即得到答复，只要信不被退回他也就心满意足了、这封信没有退回来，以后的信也没有退回来。随着日子一天天过去，他越来越焦急。

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时间越长，越是不见退信，他就越希望得到回信。他写信的多少，开始取决于他打字的熟练程度。最初每周一封，后来每周二封，最后是每日一封了。他对邮电事业从开创时代至今所取得的进步感到高兴，由于这种进步，他可以天天去邮局给同一个人发信，不必担心被人发现，也不必为找人送信冒风险。派一个职员去买够一个月用的邮票，然后将信塞进老城的任何一个信箱中，这是件很容易的事。很快他就把那一习惯纳入他的生活常现了：他利用夜间失眠的时间写信，第二天去办公室时在街角的信箱前让司机停车一分钟，亲自下车去投寄。他从不让司机代他做这件事。

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一个雨天的早晨，司机想代他投寄，被他婉言拒绝。有时他加倍小心地不是带一封信，而是同时带上数封信出门，以便显得自然些。司机不知情，其实其它的信都是阿里萨寄给自己的一张张白纸。只有作为监护人，每月末给阿美利卡?维库尼亚的父母寄上一封信，谈谈对女孩的精神状态、健康状况以及学习成绩的印象。除此之外，他从未与任何人有私人通信关系。

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从第一个月起，他就开始编号，每封信开头都象报纸上的连载文章那样，对前一封作个小结，生怕费尔米纳不懂信件的连贯性。此外，每日写一封信时，他还将带哀悼标记的信封换成了白色长信封，从而赋予这些信件以一般商业信函的格式。

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从一开始他就耐心地准备接受一次更大的考验，至少在没有确凿的证据使他能意识到自己只不过是用一种不同的方式白白浪费时间之前，他是绝不会罢休的。他死心塌地地等待着，不象年轻时候那样怨恨和消沉，而是以一个混凝土般的老人的固执在等待着。他在内河航运公司没有别的事可想，也没有别的事可干，等待费尔米纳的信就是一切。他确信自己能活下去，而且能活得很好，不管是明天、后天或者更晚，费尔米纳最终会相信，她那孤苦伶仃的寡妇的生活，只有他才能解救，那时他依然会很好地保持着自己的男子气概。

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与此同时，阿里萨仍旧过着正常的生活。他预料会得到一个满意的回答，因此又第二次着手修缮房子，以便房子真的能和未来的女主人相称。他按照自己的许诺，又去看了几次普鲁登西亚?皮特雷，以向她表明，尽管年龄不饶人，他还是爱她。

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这几次，有的是在夜间百无聊赖的时候去的，有的是在大白天她的大门开着的时候去的。他照常从安德雷亚?瓦龙的门前走过，有一夜他发现她浴室的灯关着，他又走了进去。

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唯一的妨碍是他与阿美利卡?维库尼亚的关系。他再次向司机重申了他的命令，让他每星期六上午十时到寄宿学校去接她，但他不知道该拿她怎么办。他头一次没有去，她对这一变化感到十分不悦。他将她委托给女佣，让她们带她去看下午的电影，听儿童公园的露天音乐会，参加慈善摸彩，或者安排她和女同学去玩，以避开把她带到办公室的那座隐蔽的天堂去。从第一次带她去那儿之后，她就老想再去。

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他从未发现，女人可以在三天之内成熟。从他去帕德雷港湾的帆船上迎接她的时候起，至今已过了整整三年。不管他怎么想使这一变化进展得缓慢一些，对她来说仍是残忍的，而且她不懂得这个变化的原因。那天在冷饮店他告诉她，他要结婚，道出了真情，她当时惶惶不安，但过后她又觉得此话实在荒唐，不可能，于是一会儿她就忘得一干二净了。然而，她很快就发现，他的表现象是真的，而且对她支吾搪塞，不加解释，好象他不是比她大六十岁，而是比她小六十岁。

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一个星期六的下午，阿里萨看见她在他的寝室里试着打字。她打得不错，她在学校里有这门课。她已经打了多半页纸，在某个段落有几句话显然反映了她的精神状态。阿里萨躬下身去，趴到她肩膀上看看她到底在打什么。他那男子的热气，断断续续的呼吸以及农服上的香气，顿时使她惶惑起来。她已经不是那个刚到的小孩子了。那时，他给她脱衣服，象哄婴儿似的哄着：喂，小鞋脱下来给小熊穿！真乖，把小衬衣脱下来给小狗穿！听话，把小花衬裤脱下来给小白兔穿！好了，在爸爸脸上轻轻吻一下。可现在不是了。不！现在她已是个地地道道喜欢采取主动的女人了。

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他仍在思念费尔米纳。六个月过去了，什么音信也没有。他在床上翻来覆去，直到天亮，他坠落到另一种失眠的荒野。他想，费尔米纳看到那淡雅的信封肯定会把信打开，也一定会看到和当年其它信上一样的她所熟悉的名字的第一个字母。实际上，她原封不动地把它们扔进了烧垃圾的火堆里。以后的信，她一看信封就做了同样处理，连拆都不拆。总之，不管他绞尽脑汁写出多少信，在她手里都会遭到同样的命运。他不相信会有这样的女人，能抗住一切好奇心，半年中间，每天收到一封信，居然连用什么颜色的墨水写的都不想知道。要说有这样一个女人的话，那只能是她。

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阿里萨感到，老年的光阴不是水平的激流，而是无底的地下蓄水池，记忆力就从那里排走了。他的智慧将慢慢地耗尽。在拉?曼加别墅转悠了几天之后，他才明白，年轻时的那一套，难以敲开被丧事封死了的大门。一天早上，他在电话簿上找一个电话号码，偶然看到了她的电话。他拨了电话，电话铃响了许多次，最后他听出了她的声音， 严肃而微弱：“喂2哪一位？”他没说话，把电话挂了，但是那无限遥远的抓不住的声音却刺疼了他的。乙。

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那几天，卡西亚妮庆祝自己的生日，把为数不多的几个朋友请到了家里。阿里萨心不在焉，把鸡汤撒在身上，她将餐巾在水杯中蘸湿，给他擦干净衣领，然后给他戴上一个围嘴，免得他再闹出什么事来。他真象个老娃娃。在用餐时，她发现他好几次摘下眼镜用手帕擦拭泪水。喝咖啡时，他端着杯子就睡着了，她想轻轻地把杯子接过来，可是他羞愧地惊醒说：“我只是闭上眼睛休息一会儿。”卡西亚妮夜里躺下时吃惊地想，他怎么老成这个样子了!

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乌尔比诺医生逝世一周年时，家属发出请柬，邀请亲朋好友出席纪念弥撒，地点在大教堂。迄今阿里萨已经寄出了一百三十二封信，然而没有收到她的只言片语。

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这促使他决定去参加纪念弥撒，即使自己并不在被邀请之列。这是一次奢华而不那么感人的社交活动。头几排是空的，那是一些永久保留的世代相传的座位，靠背上的铜牌刻着主人的名字。阿里萨是最初到达的客人之一，目的是想在费尔米纳必经之路上省个位子。他想，最佳位置应是中殿，就是在那些永久保留位于的后面。可是，那里的人很多，找不到空位子，他不得不坐到穷亲戚们的大厅里去。从那儿他看见费尔米纳由儿子搀扶着走进来，没戴首饰，身穿一件黑天鹅绒的长衫，一大排纽扣从脖子一直到脚尖，象主教的长袍。她肩上搭一块卡斯蒂亚饰边窄披肩，不象其他寡妇那样戴着挂面纱的帽子，就连许多巴望守寡的女人也是戴那种挂面纱的帽子的。未被遮掩的脸上闪着白白的光彩，被外形的眼睛在中殿巨大的技形吊灯下显示出特有的活力。她挺直腰板走看，如此高傲，如此自信，看上去年纪和她儿子一般大。阿里萨站立着，指尖扶在长椅靠背上，一直到昏厥的感觉过去，因为他觉得，他与她不是仅仅隔开七步之远的距离，而是在两个不同的世界里。

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费尔米纳几乎一直站在大祭坛前面的家属位置上，象看歌剧一样，风度不凡地出席弥撒仪式。最后，她却打破了历来的礼拜仪式规矩，没有按当时习惯站在那儿接受人们的再次哀悼，而是自己走过去向每个来宾表示谢意，这是与她的为人十分一致的革新举动。她向大家逐一问候，最后轮到了穷亲戚们。她环视周围，看看有没有需要她打招呼的熟人。阿里萨此时感到有一股神奇的力量将他从中心推了出来，果然，她看见了他。费尔米纳以其社交老手的潇洒风度，丝毫没有犹豫地离开了她的陪伴者，向他伸过手去，露出温柔的微笑对他说：“您来了，谢谢！”

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原来，她不仅收到了那些信，而且怀着极大的兴趣读过了。她从中发现了许多发人深省的道理，从而考虑要继续好好活下去。收到第一封信时，她正和女儿在桌子上吃早餐。她看见是用打字机打的，便好奇地打开了信，一看到签名的第一个字母，她脸上马上泛起红晕，感到热辣辣的。她马上随机应变，将信放到围裙的口袋里，说：“是政府的悼唁信。”女儿感到奇怪：“可悼唁信全都到了呀！”她泰然自若的说：“这是另一封。”她想事后烧掉，免得女儿再问，可她抵不住看上一眼的诱惑。她等待的是对自己那封辱骂信的应有的反驳。其实，在那封信寄出的同时，她自己已感到忐忑不安。可是，从信中庄重的称呼和第一段的意思，她就清楚了在这个世界上发生了点什么变化。结果，她的好奇心变得如此强烈，以致将自己关进寝室，在烧掉之前安安静静地读一下。她一连看了三遍。

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那是对人生、爱情、老年和死亡的思考。这些思想曾经多次象夜间的小鸟似的在她头上扑扇着翅膀掠过，但是当她想抓住它们时，它们却四散飞走，只留下一片羽毛。这些创见就摆在面前，如此清晰，如此简单明了，就象她自己也曾乐意说出来的那样。她又一次感到难过，自己的丈夫已经死了，不能和他一块探讨，就象每天睡觉以前评说当天的某些事情那样。就这样，站在她面前的是一个陌生的阿里萨，他有着一种敏锐的洞察力和远见卓识，这与其年轻时狂热的信件和整个一生的可怜遭遇是不相符的。他的话别出心裁，如跟埃斯科拉斯蒂卡姑妈眼中那种受圣灵启示的男子一样。这么一想，她又象第一次收到他的信时那样害怕起来。但不管怎么说，最使她安心的是，她确信那封信并非重复守灵的那天晚上的粗鲁话语，而是一种打算勾销过去的十分高尚的行为。

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以后的信终于使她平静下来。但她在怀着越来越浓厚的兴趣阅读之后，还是把它付之一炬，尽管在烧掉后她逐渐感到一种无法消除的内疚。就这样，当她开始收到编号的信时，她找到了自己所希望的不将信毁掉的道德上的证据。不管怎么说，她最初的意图并非是把信留给自己，而是等待机会将信还给阿里萨。她认为，对人类那么有用的东西不该丢失。糟糕的是，随着时日的流逝，她还是一封接一封地收到他的信件，平均三、四天就收到一封。她不愿使自己难堪，也不愿写一封信解释——她的矜持不允许她这样做，可她不知道除此之外还有什么办法把信还给他。

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第一年守寡对她来说就足够了。对丈夫的纯洁回忆不再妨碍她的日常活动，不再妨碍她考虑隐私，也不再妨碍她有某些实实在在的想法，而是变成了一种指导和照料她的思想指南。

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有时，在她确实需要他的地方，她会看到他，不象是一个幽灵，而象是一个有血有肉的躯体。她相信他就在那里，还活着，但没有了男子的怪病，没有家长式的指手画脚的苛求，也没有总是要求她以他爱她的方式爱他：不分场合的亲吻，日日夜夜的叙情。确信这一点，使她受到鼓舞。因为这样她就比他活着的时候对他理解得更深，理解他渴望她的爱的心情，理解他迫不及待地要在她身上找到他社交生活支柱的愿望。实际上，他的愿望从来没有实现过。一天，她大失所望，曾这样对他喊道：“你没有看到我是多么不幸吗？”他以他特有的动作摘下眼镜，既不愠怒，也不恐慌，只是用那孩子般无真明亮的大眼睛注视着她，只用一句话就让她知道了他那惊人的智慧的全部分量：“你要永远记住，一对恩爱夫妻最重要的不是幸福，而是稳定的关系。”从守寡最初感到寂寞时开始，她理解了，那句话并不象她当时所想的那样隐藏着卑劣的威胁，而是给他们两人提供了充满幸福的时刻的基石出。

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在多次环球旅行中，费尔米纳看中什么就买什么。她买东西常常出于一时冲动，可丈夫也乐得找出恰当的理由来满足她。这些东西不论在罗马。巴黎、伦敦的玻璃橱窗里，还是在那摩天大楼已开始日益增多，查尔斯顿舞曲震天响的纽约市的玻璃橱窗里，都是美丽有用的。因而，每次到家她都带回五。六个大立柜，立柜上挂着耀眼的金属领，四角包着铜皮，就象神话故事中的棺材一样。她成了世界上最新奇迹的主人，然而这些东西平时锁着并不值钱，只有被她社交范围内的某人看中的一瞬间，才显示出它们的珍贵。这些东西本来就是为炫耀而置，哪怕让别人看到一次。

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她在自己开始衰老前很久，就意识到自己在公共场所里的高傲和虚荣心，人们常常听到她在家中这么说：“这么多破烂，真得好好处理一下，否则连住的地方都没有了。”乌尔比诺大夫嘲笑她这种想法是徒劳无益的，因为他知道，如果腾出空来，很快又会被新添置的东西占据。但是她仍坚持，因为的确没有立锥之地了，何况没有任何一件东西是实用的，如挂着的衬衣、揉成一难压在厨房柜子里的欧式冬大衣，都是长期没用过的。于是，有一天早晨起床时，她感到精神很好，就开始翻箱倒柜，掏空了衣箱，最后拆除了阁楼，对那一堆堆过时的衣服来了一次大扫荡，还有那些根本没有机会戴的时髦的帽子，欧洲艺术家按女皇加冕时穿的式样来设计的鞋子，也都—一作了处理。其实这种鞋子，在这儿是受到高贵小姐们鄙视的，因为它跟黑种女人在市场上买来的在家中穿的便鞋是一样的。整个上午，家里平台都处于紧急状态，一阵阵刺鼻的樟脑球味简直令人难以呼吸。最后她看到那么多扔在地上的丝绸、织锦和金银丝带以及黄狐狸尾巴都要扔进火堆，也不免感到可惜。

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“世上还有许多人没饭吃，”她说，“把这些东西烧掉真是罪过啊！”

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于是焚烧推迟了，而且是无限期地推迟了，东西只不过换了个地方，从特许的位置换到用老马厩改成的剩余物资仓库。同时，腾出来的地方，正如乌尔比诺医生所说，开始又满满地放上了新的东西。这些东西只要放在衣柜里一小会儿后便永远放在里面了，最后则被投入火堆。她说：“应该想出个办法处理那些没有一点用处但又弃之可惜的东西。”正是这样，各种东西以使她自己都惧怕的贪婪，抢占着家里的空间，而人则被挤到角落中去，直到费尔米纳将它们放到看不见的地方为止。

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她并不象自己认为的那样有条有理，而是用一种特殊的绝招，将乱七八糟的东西堆在一起。乌尔比诺逝世那天，人们不得不腾出半间书房，把东西堆在宿舍里，以便有个地方守灵。

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死神从这个家中经过，使问题得到了最后解决。烧掉丈夫的衣服，费尔米纳发现自己并没有什么不安，而且她以同样的勇气继续每隔一段时间就点起一堆大火，把一切都扔进去，不管新的还是旧的，也不考虑富人的妒忌和将要饿死的穷人的报复。最后，她让人把芒果树连根刨出，半点儿不幸的痕迹也不留下，并将活着的鹦鹉赠给新建的市博物馆。只有那时，她才感到能舒畅地呼吸。她现在住在一个她一直梦想的家里，宽敞、舒适，一切都符合自己的心意。

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女儿奥费利亚陪她三个月后回到新奥尔良去了。儿子带着孩子们星期天来家里吃午餐，其它时间有空才来。费尔米纳亲近的女友们，在她最忧伤的时刻过去后，开始来她家串门，在光秃秃的院子对面玩牌，烹调和品尝新菜，让她适应没有他也照样存在的贪婪世界的隐秘生活。来得最经常的女友之一是鲁克雷希哑，这是一个守旧的贵族，费尔米纳一直跟她很好。自乌尔比诺死后，她对费尔米纳更加亲近。

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被关节炎弄得身体僵硬和对自己放荡生活感到懊丧的鲁克雷希姬，不仅是她当时最好的伴侣，而且还时常向她询问有关本城正在酝酿的城建规划的有关问题。这使她感到自己还是有用的，而不是凭借丈夫的影子自己才受人敬重。然而，人们从来没有象此时那样把她与她丈夫紧紧联系在一起，因为他们不再象往常那样称呼她婚前的名字费尔米纳?达萨，而开始叫她乌尔比诺的遗媒了。

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她觉得不可思议。但是随着丈夫逝世一周年的临近，她觉得自己渐渐地进人一种舒服、清新、安静的环境之中——无可非议的风景优美的地方。当时她还不十分清楚，后来几年中也没有很好地意识到，阿里萨写在信中的见解，对她恢复精神的平静帮了多大的忙。正是这些与她的经历相符的见解，使得她理解了自己的一生，去平静地迎接老年面临的一切。纪念弥撒上的相遇是一次意外机会，阿里萨从此知道，由于他那些鼓励性的信，她也准备忘却过去。

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两天以后，她收到了他一封与过去大不相同的信，是手书的，写在亚麻布纸上，信封背面寄信人的全名赫然可见。还是和最初几封信一样，是花体字。和从前一样热情奔放，但是只写了简单的一段，为她在教堂跟他打招呼表示谢意，尤其那招呼是不同于别人的。读过这封信，费尔米纳连续几天非常激动。下一个礼拜四，她便胸怀坦然地去问那个鲁克雷希应，是否由于偶然的机会认识内河轮船的老板弗洛伦蒂诺?阿里萨。鲁克雷希姬做了肯定的回答，说：“是个放荡的魔鬼。”她还重复了通常的说法，说他人很好，从来不找女人。她有一个秘密住处，将夜间在码头上追到的男孩子带到那儿去。费尔米纳从记事起就听到这样的传说，她不相信，也从不放在心上。可是当听到鲁克雷希婉如此确信无疑地重复这种说法的时候，她就急切地要把事情说清楚了。有一个时期，人们传说鲁克雷希灰也是个兴趣与众不同的人。费尔米纳告诉鲁克雷希姬，她从小就认识阿里萨，并说，她记得，他的母亲在彭塔纳斯大街开一个小百货店，在内战期间还收购旧衬衣和床单，拆了作为急救棉出售。最后，她满有把握地下结论说：“这是个正经人，处世十分谨慎。”她如此冲动，以致鲁克雷希娘收回了自己的说法：“归根结底，人家也这么说我。”费尔米纳没有兴趣去问自己，为什么对一个仅仅是自己生活中的影子的男人，如此热情地保护他。她继续想念着他，尤其是当邮差来过而没有把信带来的时候。

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已经整整两个星期没有消息了，有一天，一个女佣惊恐地轻轻把她在午睡中叫醒：“夫人，”女佣说，‘佛洛伦蒂诺先生来了。”

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真的来了。费尔米纳的第一个反映是惶恐。她想，这不行，让他改日找个合适的时间来吧，她现在无法接待他，也没什么好谈的。但是她马上镇定下来，吩咐女仆把他带到客厅去，先送上咖啡，她收拾一下之后再去见他。阿里萨在下午三时烈火般的阳光下站在门口等着，努力控制着自己的感情。他已准备好费尔米纳的婉言拒绝，这一信念倒也使他复归平静。可是传出来的口信使他大为震惊，走进大厅凉爽的荫影之中时，他几乎没时间想一想正在经历的奇迹，腹部立刻充满了疼痛难忍的气泡。他屏住呼吸坐了下来，脑海里又顽固地出现了第一封情书落上鸟粪的该死的回忆。他一动不动地坐在昏暗之中，第一阵寒颤过去后，他决心接受此时的任何不幸，只要鸟粪别再落到他身上就行。

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人人知道，虽然他患有先天性的便秘，多年来肚子还是有三、四次公开背叛了他，使他不得不屈服。只有在这些情况下，以及在其它万分紧迫的时候，他才发现自己喜欢在开玩笑时说的一句话是真的：“我不信上帝，但我怕上帝。”他来不及怀疑：他想着随便祈祷一句想得起来的话，但怎么也找不出来。小时候，有个小孩曾教会他用五头打鸟时嘴里念叨的非常灵验的几句话：“打中，打中，要不打中，就砍你的脑壳，要你的命。”第一次带着一个新弹弓上山时，他试了试，乌真的一下子被打中了。他模模糊糊地想，一件事应该与另一件事有些关系的，于是就以祈祷的热情重复这几句话，可没有取得同样的效果。肠子象一根螺旋轴似的绞动，迫使他从椅子上立起来，肚子的气泡越来越多，越来越疼，最后发出了抱怨声，弄得他出了一身冷汗。送咖啡的女仆被他那苍白得象死人一样的脸色吓坏了。他叹了一口气说道：“太热了。”她打开窗子，以为这样会合他的意，可下午太阳正巧射到他的脸上，他们不得不把窗户又关上。他心中清楚，连一分钟都忍不住啦。正在此时，费尔米纳在萌影中突然出现了，看到他这样，她也吓了一跳。

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“您可以把外衣脱掉。”她说。

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肚子绞得疼痛难忍，但他更感到痛苦的是她会听到他肚子里的叽哩咕嗜声。他强忍住了，说了个“不”字，并且走过去问何时再能见她。她站在那儿，迷惑不解地说：“您不已经在这儿了吗？”她请他跟她到院子里的花坛上去，那儿稍微凉快些。他以在她看来更似一种遗憾的叹息般的声调说：“求求您，明天我来吧。”

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她想起明天是星期四，是鲁克雷希她定期串门的日子，然后她做出了不容他申辩的决定：“后天下午五时。”阿里萨对她表示了感谢，举着帽子作了一个匆忙道别的姿势，未喝一口咖啡就走了。她呆立在大厅中央，不明白刚才发生了什么事，汽车的响声开始在大厅的尽头消失。阿里萨坐在汽车后排的座位上，找了个可以减轻疼痛的姿势，闭上双眼，放松肌肉，痛痛快快地拉起肚子来。那正象重新起死回生一样。司机为他开车多年，对此毫不惊讶，但是到了家门口，司机在为他打开车门时却对他说：“您得小心，弗洛伦蒂诺先生，这象是霍乱呀！”

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然而，那是普普通通的事情。当星期五下午女仆领着阿里萨通过阴暗的大厅进入院内的花坛时， 他感谢上帝的恩赐c他看见费尔米纳坐在一张两人小桌旁。她问他要什么茶， 巧克力还是咖啡。 阿里萨要了杯又烫又浓的咖啡。她吩咐女仆说：“我跟平常一样。”所谓跟平常一样，就是喝混杂起来的各种东方浓饮料，那是专为午睡后提神用的。她喝完茶时，他也喝完了咖啡。他们谈起了几件事，又几次把话题打断，这并非因为他们真的对这些新的话题感兴趣，而是因为他们想避开另外一些不管他还是她都不敢触及的话题。两人都有点害怕，他们都不知道在那个还弥漫着公墓花香的宅院的棋盘格式的花坛上，在离开年轻时代已如此遥远之后，对面临的事情该怎么办。这是半个世纪后，两人首次那么面对面地坐在一起，长时间平静地互相观望着。他们都看出了其中奥妙：他们已成为两位半截身子入土的老人，除一厂对一个短暂的过去的回忆外，没有任何共同之处。过去已不属于他们，而是属于已经消失的两个年轻人，这两个年轻人有可能已经成了他们的孩子。她想，他最终会相信他的梦想是不可能实现的，这将会把他从他不合时宜的言行中解救出来。

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为了避免不快的沉默或不愿涉及的话题，她问了一些很容易回答的有关内河航行的事务。说来令人难以置信，他作为船主，只在多年以前乘船在内河航行过一次，而且那时他与公司尚无任何关系。她不知缘由，以为他会把事情一五一十全告诉她。

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她也不了解内河航运的情况。她丈夫对安第斯山地的空气很反感，找出各种理由，说什么高山对心脏有害呀，有得肺炎的危险呀，人们的狡诈呀，集权的不公正呀，等等。因此，他们跑遍了半个世界，但却不了解自己的国家。

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目前，有一架容克式水上匕机，两名驾驶员，载着六名旅客和邮袋，象铝做的蚂炸一样， 在马格达莱纳河流域， 从这个村镇飞到另一个村镇。阿里萨评论说：“就象个空中棺材。”她参加过首次气球旅行，一点都未受惊，但她几乎不敢相信，敢于冒那份险的居然是她。她说：“变得不一样i。”她是想说，是她发生i变化，而不是旅行的方式发生了什么变化。

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飞机的响声常常让她吃惊。她曾在解放者逝世百年时看见匕机低飞进行特技表演。其十一架黑得跟一只巨大的兀饺似的，擦着拉?曼加地区的房顶飞过去，在邻近一棵树上碰下i一块翼翅，挂到f电线上。这样，费尔米纳还是没有感觉到飞机的存在。最近几年，她连去领略曼萨尼略港湾美景的兴趣都没有。在那儿，警卫艇把越来越多的渔船和游船赶走，让水上飞机停泊。因而，她这么老了，人家选她带一束玫瑰花去迎接高高兴兴飞来的夏尔?林德贝格时，她不理解，一个如此魁梧和英俊、头发如此金黄的男子，在这么个象皱白铁皮的。由两名机械师推着尾巴帮助起飞的器械里，怎么能升起来呀！这么一架小小的飞机竟能容得下八个人，她反来复去地琢磨，怎么也想不明白。相反，她倒听人说过，乘内河船旅行是件很惬意的事，因为它们不象海轮那么晃动，可有另外一些更严重的危险，象遇到沙滩轮船搁浅和强盗抢劫之类。

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阿里萨告诉她，那都是过去的传奇故事。现在的轮船上，有舞厅，有象旅馆房间一般宽敞豪华的寝舱，寝舱里有卫生间和电风扇。最后一次内战以后，武装抢劫的事就再没有发生过。他还踌躇满志地对她说，这些进步可以说全都归功于他主张的航行自由，鼓励竞争。因为竞争打破了从前的独家经营，出现了三家航运公司。

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它们都很活跃，很繁荣。然而，航空事业的飞速发展构成了对整个内河航运事业的真正威胁。她试图安慰他，说，轮船永远会存在下去，因为飞机似乎是违背自然的，愿意钻进那玩意儿去的疯子毕竟不多。最后，阿里萨谈到了邮政的发展，不管是在运输还是在分发方面，他想引她谈起他的信，但是没有达到目的。

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可是，不一会儿，机会来到了。他们谈话已离题很远。这时，女仆打断了他们的谈话，交给费尔米纳一封刚刚由邮差送来的急信。这类快递邮政开创不久，跟电报使用同一个分类系统。她象往常那样，一时找不到看信的眼镜，阿里萨很平静。

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“不必了吧，”他说，“信是我写的。”

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这话不假，那封信是他头天写的，当时他为第一次见面的失败感到一种难以消除的羞愧，心情十分压抑。在信中，他要求她原谅他没有事先得到允许就去拜访的莽撞行为，并且表示不再去了。未经周祥考虑他就把信扔进了邮筒。当他清醒过来时，要取回信件为时已晚。然而，他觉得没有必要作那么多解释。只是请求费尔米纳别看信了。

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“当然。”她说，“信归根到底是属于发信人的。不是吗？”

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他迈出了坚定的一步。

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“是的，”他说，“因而，当关系破裂时，首先退还的就是信。”

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她没有留神他的用意，将信还给他说：“有信不读是件憾事，因为从前的信使我受益匪浅。”他深深地吸了一口气，她说得那么自然，使他大为惊讶。他对她说：“您想象不到我现在是多么幸福！”但是她又换了个话题，整个下午他没能再提起那封信。

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过了六点，家里的灯都亮起来了，他告辞回家。他感到很有信心，但不敢存非分之想，因为他没有忘记费尔米纳二十岁时的多变的性格和无法预料的反抗，他没有理由认为她已经改变了。因而，他壮起胆子，真诚而谦恭地问她，改日能否再来。

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得到的回答又出乎他的预料。

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“什么时候想来就来，”她说。“我几乎总是一个人。”

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四天以后，星期二，他没有通知就到了费尔米纳家里。她没等仆人送上茶来，就跟他谈起了他那些信对她何等有用。他说，严格地说起来，那不是信，而是他很想写的一部书里的一个个情节。她也那么理解。因此，假设他不认为是一种轻蔑的话，她想把信还给他，以便把它们派更好的用场。她继续讲着那些信在她艰难的日子里给予她的巨大力量。她说得那么热忱，那么感激，也许还怀着深情，以致阿里萨敢于在迈出坚定的一步的基础上，又往前跃进了一大步。

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“我们从前是以‘你’相称的。”他说。

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“从前” 是个忌讳的词儿。她觉得过去那个虚幻的天使又来到一i身边，她想避开他，但他更加单刀直入地说：“我是说在我们从前的信里是这么称呼的。”她对此话感到不悦，不得不做出很大的努力使他不致察觉。但他察觉到了，他知道应该更加小心谨慎地试探着前进。虽然碰到的软钉子告诉他，她仍如年轻时一样难以接近，但她已学会用温和的表情来掩饰她暴烈的性格。

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“我的意思是，”他说，“过去的信是完全不同的另一码事。”

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“世上的一切都变了。”她说。

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“可我没变，”他说。“您呢？”

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她的第二杯茶没有喝，用过去一样的毫不掩饰的神眼在责备他。

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“我别无他求，”她说。“我都满七十二岁了。”

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阿里萨受到沉重一击。他真想找一句话马上驳斥她。但是他年龄过大，心有余而力不足。他从未因为这样短暂的交谈而感到如此疲劳。他觉得心脏一阵阵地疼痛，而且每跳一下，动脉都发出金属般的响声。他感到老朽、悲伤和无用。他着急得想哭，以致无法说出话来。他们在充满预兆的沉默中喝完了第二杯茶。当她又开始讲话时，已经是要求文仆去拿信夹了。他差点儿没求她把那些信留下，因为他有复写的一份，但回头一想，留复写件会让人觉得不那么高尚。他们已没什么好说的了。

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告辞前，他建议在下一个星期二同一个时间再见面。费尔米纳心想是否应该答应他。

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“我不知道老见面有什么意思。”

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“我也没想过有什么意思。”他说。

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于是，星期二下午五时他又去了，以后所有星期二都是如此，而且照例不通知，因为到了第二个月未，每个星期的见面已变成两个人的习惯了。去时，阿里萨总带上喝茶的英国点心、糖渍栗子、希腊橄榄以及在远洋轮上的美味咸肉、咸鱼。有一个星期二，他给她带去了她和伊尔德布兰达的照片。那是半个世纪以前比利时摄影师拍的照片，他是在“代笔先生门洞”一家明信片拍卖摊上以一角五分钱买下的。

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费尔米纳不明白照片怎样会落到那里去的。他也不能理解，只能说是一桩爱情的奇迹吧。一天早上，阿里萨在剪花园里的玫瑰时，禁不住想到下次去时要给费尔米纳带上一朵。由于给一个新寡女人送花，以花表意就成了难题。一朵红玫瑰花象征火热的激情，有可能对她的守丧是一种触犯。黄玫瑰花有时象征好运气，但通常情况下是表示妒嫉。有人跟他谈到过土耳其黑玫瑰，也许那是最合适的，可是他院子里没有。他想来想去，最后决定冒险带一朵白玫瑰，他本人不象喜欢其它玫瑰花那样喜欢它，因为它平淡无奇，没有什么意思。最后一刻，为了避免费尔米纳多心说玫瑰刺有什么含意，他把刺全部掰掉了。

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费尔米纳觉得白玫瑰花不是别有用心的礼物，就高兴地接受了。这从此丰富了他们星期二会面的内容。每当阿里萨手持白玫瑰花到来时，她已在茶几的中央准备好了盛上水的花瓶。有一个礼拜二，往花瓶里插玫瑰花时，他象是出于偶然地问道：“在我们年轻时不是送玫瑰，而是送山茶花。”

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“是的，”她说，“可用意不一样，这您知道。”

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事情总是这样：他想前进，而她则封死道路。但这一次虽然她回答得恰如其分，阿里萨发现，他已击中目标，因为她不得不背过脸去，以便不让他看到她脸上的红晕：那是一片火辣辣的红晕，富有生命力的青年时代的红晕。他牵动了她的心，使她对自己不悦起来。阿里萨十分小心地把话题转向不那么有刺激性的问题，但他如此有礼貌，如此谦恭，使她知道自己已被识破，这更增加了她的愤怒。这个星期二，他们过得很不愉快。她几乎要求他别再来了。可一转念，到了他们这般年纪，还象未婚夫妻似的吵架未免荒唐可笑。因而，她自己也忍不住笑了。下一个星期二，当阿里萨往花瓶里插玫瑰花时，她们心自问，高兴地发现上星期的事情没给她留下哪怕是微不的怨意。

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见面很快扩大到一种使人不舒服的地步，费尔米纳的儿女也参加过来了。她的儿子乌尔比诺?达萨大夫和妻子常常突然出现，而且留下来打牌。阿里萨本来不会玩牌，但是费尔米钢只用一个星期二就教会了他，于是两个人给乌尔比诺?达萨夫妇写了挑战式的邀请书，让他们下个星期二来玩牌。大家都感到玩得很愉快，很快就变得每次见面都在一块打牌，而且约定好了玩牌时每个人要出的东西。乌尔比诺?达萨及其妻子——她是一位杰出的点心师，每次都带来与上次不同的奇特的大蛋糕。阿里萨还是带在欧洲船只上弄到的新鲜食品。费尔米纳也绞尽脑汁，每个星期都拿出点儿出人意料的新玩意儿。

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每个月的第三个星期二进行一次打牌比赛，不是赌钱，但是输者在下一次打牌时要做出点特别贡献。

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大家对乌尔比诺?达萨大夫的印象是：举止拘谨，不管是高兴还是生气，都象是突然受惊，不适时的脸红使人担心他的脑子是否健全。但是毫无疑问，并且一眼就能看得清清楚楚，阿里萨最关心的别人的议论是对的：他是一个正派人。他的妻子却相反，活跃，有一种平民百姓的机智，一切都做得适时而恰到好处，这使她的高雅更富有人情味。不能找到比这更好的玩牌对手了。跟他们在一起仿佛跟家人在一起一样，阿里萨对爱的无止境的需要得到了满足。

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一个晚上，他们一块儿走出家门时，乌尔比诺?达萨大夫请他与他共进午餐：“明天中午十二点半整，在社会俱乐部。”社会俱乐部象美味的佳肴，但却配着有毒的酒。就是说，它是令人向往的地方，可它凭着种种理由可以决定一个人能否进去：私生子不能进入即是最重要的规定之一。叔父莱昂十二在这方面有过十分令人恼火的经历，阿里萨本人也曾受过侮辱。有一次，他应俱乐部一位创始股东的邀请去吃饭，坐下后又被赶了出来。阿里萨在这位股东的内河航行生意中曾帮过大忙，这位股东也不得不带他到另一个地方去吃饭。

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“我们制定规章的人更该履行这些规章。”他对他说。

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虽然如此，阿里萨还是决定跟乌尔比诺?达萨大夫去冒冒险。不料竟受到了特殊的对待，尽管没要求他在贵宾留言簿上签名，也十分光彩。就只有他们二人共进午餐，而且时间很短，规格也较低。阿里萨从头天下午起就对这次会面忧心忡忡，如今随着一杯开胃的欧波尔图葡萄酒下肚，一切都消失了。乌尔比诺?达萨大夫想跟他谈谈他的母亲。他滔滔不绝地讲了一阵之后，阿里萨发现，她跟儿子讲到过他。

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更让人吃惊的是：费尔米纳为了他，还跟儿子撒了谎。她对儿子说他们从小就是朋友，自打她从大沼泽地圣?胡安市来了以后就一块儿玩耍，是他最早教给她读书识字，因而她多年来对他怀有感激之情。她还告诉儿子，每当她从学校出来，常常跟他的母亲特兰西托一呆好几个小时，在百货店里干刺绣活儿，特兰西托是位著名的绣花能手。她此后没有继续跟阿里萨交往，并非出于她的意愿，而是由于他们走上了不同的生活道路。

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乌尔比诺?达萨大夫在未深谈自己的意图以前，先就老年问题信口开河地说了一通。他认为，要是没有老人的妨碍，这世界会发展得更快。他说：“人类如同野战军一样，以走得最慢的人的速度前进。”他预言会有一个重人道、因而也就更文明的未来社会，到那时，人都被隔离在边远城市，不能依靠自己来避免老年的羞愧、痛苦和可怖的孤独，而要依靠社会。依照医生的观点，他认为到达这个社会至多需要六十年。但是，在这个美好社会到来之前，唯一的出路是建立养老院，在那里，老年人可以互相安慰，按照自己的兴趣、好恶、怪癖及痛苦结合在一起，避开与后几代人的自然的不和。他说：“老人在老人中间会显得年轻些。”那就是说，乌尔比诺?达萨大夫感谢阿里萨在他母亲守寡的孤独中所给予她的良好帮助，并恳求阿里萨，为了他们两位老人的利益，也为了大家生活得安逸，继续这样做下去，还请他耐心对待老母亲的怪脾气。这次会面的结果使阿里萨感到异常轻松。“请您放心，”

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他说，“我比她大四岁，不只现在，而是从很久以前，在您出世之前许久就是如此。”

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然后，他只想痛快地说出来，便以讥讽的口吻提示他。

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“在未来的社会中，”他最后说，“大概您这会儿必须去公墓了，您还得为她和我的午餐送去一束鲜花。”

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那时，乌尔比诺?达萨大夫才注意到他的预言是不恰当的。于是他赶快作解释，结果越解释越说不清楚。但阿里萨帮助他解脱出来了。他满面春风，因为他表示，跟乌尔比诺?达萨迟早还要有一次与这次相同的会面。那是为了履行一项不能避免的社会手续：正式向他的母爱求爱。午餐很鼓舞人心，不仅由于原因本身，还因为午餐向他表明那不容更改的请求将会多么容易地被乐意接受。要是得到了费尔米纳的允许，真是没有比此刻更合适的机会了。还有，在那次具有历史意义的午餐谈话之后，墨守成规的要求已显得多余了。

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阿里萨即使在年轻的时候，上下楼梯都特别小心，因为他一向以为，老年是从第一次不太要紧的跌跤开始的，而死亡则随着第二次跌跤而来。他觉得他办公室的楼梯比所有楼梯更危险，因为它又陡又窄。很久以来，爬那道楼梯他都要使出好大劲儿，不仅要看清楚每道台阶，双手还要扶着栏杆，以免失足坠地。人们曾多次建议他换一个不太危险的楼梯，但每次他都推说到下个月再做决定，在他看来，换楼梯好象是向老年投降。随着岁月的流逝，他上楼梯需要很长时间，这并非象他匆忙解释的那样是因为越来越费劲，而是因为他越来越小心。然而，那天下午跟乌尔比诺?达萨大夫一起吃饭，喝了杯开胃的欧波尔图葡萄酒，吃饭时又喝了半杯红葡萄酒，尤其是谈话是如此令人鼓舞，回来后他真是高兴极了，竟然试图以年轻人的舞步一步跃上第三道台阶，结果扭伤了左脚，仰面摔倒，没摔死可真是奇迹！在摔倒的那一瞬间，他头脑仍十分清醒，他想他不会是跌一跤就死的男人，因为在生活的逻辑中，两个在那么多年中如此热烈地爱着同一个女人的男人，不可能先后仅差一年以同样的方式死去。他想得有道理。他的脚部和小退打上了石膏，被迫卧床。但是他比摔跤以前还精神。当医生叫他六十天不能动弹时，他真不相信会如此不幸。

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“别对我这样，大夫，”他恳求道，“我的两个月就象您的十年一样呀／好几次他试图双手抱着那条塑像般的腿立起来，每次都向现实屈服了。但是，当他终于又用那只仍感疼痛的脚重新开始走路、脊背还露着鲜肉时，他有充分的理由相信，命运以一次意外的跌躁奖励7他的坚贞和恒心。

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最恼火的日子是第一个星期一。疼痛已减轻了，大夫的预言也很鼓舞人，第二天下午，四个月中第一次因不能去看费尔米纳而耿耿于怀。然而，在无可奈何地睡过午觉之后，他还是向现实屈服了，于是便给她写了封请求原谅的信。这是一封手写的信，写在香纸上，用的是发光墨水，以便她在暗处也能看得清楚。在信中他厚着脸皮，添油加醋，以戏剧的方式夸大事实，企图激起她的同情心。她两天后给他回了信，写得很有感情，十分亲切，但一字不多一字不少，有如热恋中一般。他立即抓住机会又给她写了一封信。当她第二次给他回信时，他决定要永远超越每星期吞吞吐吐交谈的极限，并且借口要掌握公司每天的工作进程，在床前装了电话。他请总机接线员接通那个从他第一次打电话后就牢记在心头的三位数字的号码。由于距离遥远，那银铃般的声音显得有些低沉、神秘而又紧张。但他听出来了，那是他的情人的声音，只是三两句通常的问候之后就跟他“再见”了。阿里萨为她的冷漠感到伤。乙：他们又如开头时一样了。

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然而，两天后，收到了费尔米纳的一封信，信中恳求他别再给她打电话了。她的理由是足以成立的。此城电话屈指可数，都是通过一位接线员接通，这接线员熟悉所有用户，他们的生活以及他们的奇闻轶事，而且不管用户在家与否，在哪儿她都找得到。工作效率太高也有不好的一面，她掌握用户的全部谈话，了解他们私生活的秘密，掩饰得最好的戏剧性谈话也瞒不过她的耳朵，她有时甚至介入用户的对话，发表自己的观点，或安抚他们的情绪，都不是什么稀罕事。另一方面，那一年中创办了一份晚报叫《任义报》，唯一的宗旨是抨击那些名门望族，而且指名道姓，毫无顾忌。那是报纸主人的报复，因为他的儿子们未被获准加入社会俱乐部。虽然自己的生活光明磊落，但费尔米纳比任何时候都更加注意自己的一言一行，即使对最亲密的朋友也是如此。因而她仍通过信件这一不合时代潮流的方式与阿里萨保持联系。他们的信件来往是如此频繁和紧张，以致阿里萨忘记了自己的脚和床铺对自己的惩罚，忘记了一切，专心一意地伏在医院里专供病人吃饭用的那种轻便小桌上写信。

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他们之间又以“你”相称了，又重新象在从前的信中那样交换对他们生活的看法。但是阿里萨又一次试图超速前进：他用大头针尖在山茶花瓣上刺出她的名字，放在一封信里寄给了她。两天后信被退了回来，没有半个字的评论。费尔米纳不能不这样做，她认为那都是小孩子们的事。尤其阿里萨还坚持要回忆他们在福音小公园中朗诵伤感诗句的那些黄昏、上学路上藏信，以及在扁桃树下刺绣诸如此类的事情的时候，她就更感到那是孩子们做的事了。她怀着内心的痛苦，将他放到应有的地位，向他提出了一个在人所共知的评论中象是偶然的问题：“你为什么坚持要谈不存在的事情呢？”后来她又责怪他那无视自然规律、徒劳无益地不服老的顽固性。

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据她看，这就是他鲁莽行事和过去经常遭到失败和不幸的原因。她不理解一个如此善于思考的男子，他的思考曾在她孤苦伶订的守寡生活中给了她莫大的支持，可当他把这些思考应用于自己的生活中时，却象一个孩子似的幼稚得作茧自缚起来。于是两个人倒了个个儿。是她努力给他以新的勇气使他看到未来。她用了一句他在匆忙和茫然中难以理解的话：让时光流逝，当会看到时光给我们带来的东西。但是，他从不会象地那样是个好学生。被迫卧床不动，越来越明显地感到光阴在飞速消失，想同她见面的狂热的愿望，这一切都向他表明，他害怕跌跤的心情比他所预料的更合乎情理，更悲惨不幸。他第一次开始理智地想到死的现实。

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卡西亚妮每两天来帮他洗一洗澡，换换睡衣。她给他灌肠，给他拿尿壶，给他在脊背的溃烂处敷山金车花药，还遵照医嘱给他按摩以免不活动给他带来别的更严重的疾病。星期六和星期天，阿美利卡?维库尼亚来替换她，那年十二月她将获得教师称号，阿里萨答应由内河航运公司出钱让她到阿拉巴乌去上高等学校。这部分是为了使自己的良心得到安慰，尤其是为了不遭到她的责怪，也为了免去应该向她作出的解释。他永远想象不到她在寄宿学校的失眠之夜，在没有他的周末，在没有他的生活中所经受的痛苦。因为他从来想不到她多么爱他！他从学校的一封正式来信中得知，她以名列前茅跌到了最后一名，而且期末考试几乎不及格。但是，他逃避了校外监护人的责任：为了逃避由于自己的过错而受到谴责，他未向阿美利卡?维库尼亚的父母报告任何情况，也没有跟姑娘本人提及这件事，他清楚地知道，如果他埋怨她的话，她会争辩说她的失败也有他一份责任。于是，他干脆一切听其自然。他没有意识到，他已开始把种种事情推迟，盼望着死亡来解决他的一切问题。

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不仅这两位前来照料他的女人，而且连阿里萨本人也对他的巨大变化感到吃惊。

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十年以前，他在家里的楼梯后面采取突然的方式袭击了一个女佣，当时她穿着衣服站立在那儿，他以比菲律宾公鸡还灵敏的动作，以迅雷不及掩耳之势，使她达到了心摇神荡的境界。他不得不送她一幢带家具的房子，才使她发誓不露真情，而说使她失节者是一个连吻都未吻过她的平平常常的未婚夫。她的父亲和叔叔都是砍甘蔗的能手，强迫她与这个未婚夫结了婚。实在令人难以置信，对这同一个人，几个月前还使他爱得发颤的两个女人，“这会儿把他翻来覆去，给他上上下下抹肥皂，又用埃及棉毛巾把他擦干，给他全身按摩，他却没有任何动情的反应，也没有舒畅的呼吸。对于他的这种无能，两个女人各有各的解释。卡西亚妮认为这是死亡的前奏。

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阿美利卡?维库尼亚则归结为一种她难以捕捉到迹象的内因。只有他知道真情，而且这真情有其特有的名称。无论如何，这是不公正的，她们无微不至地侍奉他却忍受痛苦，而他得到如此细心的照料却对一切无动于衷。

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仅仅三个星期二阿里萨没有来访，费尔米纳便发觉自己需要他了。她与经常来信的朋友们相处甚佳，随着时间的推移，她早已忘却了丈夫的习惯，她们在一起过得更愉快了。鲁克雷希哑因耳疾去巴拿马治疗，一个月后回来时疼痛减轻了许多，可在耳朵上放了个小助听器，反而使她听力不如以前了。费尔米纳是对她所答非所问、说话乱打岔最有耐心的朋友，使鲁克雷希败十分高兴，每天说不定哪会儿就到费尔米纳家中来了。但是，费尔米纳盼望同阿里萨一起度过的那些平静的下午。是任何人不能代替的。

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正如阿里萨坚持认为的那样，对过去的记忆拯救不了未来。相反，它更加使费尔米纳坚信，二十岁时那种年轻人的狂热行为是十分高尚而美好的，但不是爱情。

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尽管她生性坦率，她还是无意向他表明这一点，无论是通过信件还是当面。她也没有勇气告诉他，在了解了他写在纸上的对老年的种种思考，并从其中得到莫大安慰后，她认为他信中的缠绵悱恻是多么虚伪，他那抒情诗般的谎言是如何地贬低了他，他那固执地要把过去失去的东西收回来的想法对于他的事业是多么的有害。不，他昔日的信中没有一行字，他自己令人厌恶的年轻时代中没有一刻钟曾使她感到一个星期二的下午由于没有他在身旁而显得如此漫长，如此孤独，如此难以忍受。

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有一次，她一时心血来潮，把丈夫在某一个结婚周年纪念日送给她的落地式电唱收音两用机搬到了马厩里去。这台两用机他们曾打算送给博物馆，因为是本城的第二架。在服丧期间，她曾决心不再用它，因为象她这种门第的寡妇，出于对死者的尊重，是不能听任何音乐的，即便私下也不行。但是，过了第三个无聊的星期二之后，她又让人将两用机搬回了大厅，她不愿象从前那样欣赏里奥班巴广播电台的情意缠绵的歌曲，而是为了以古巴圣地亚哥催人泪下的小说来消磨她无事可干的空闲时间。她这样做是对的，自从女儿出生以后，她就开始丢掉丈夫从新婚旅行时就努力在她身上培养的读书习惯，而随着眼力的逐渐衰退，这一习惯她也完全丢弃了。

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她甚至到了这样的地步，好几个月都不知眼镜放在何处。

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她对古巴圣地亚哥广播小说喜欢得着了谜，天天焦急地等待这一联播节目。有时她也听听新闻，了解一下天下大事。偶尔她一个人在家时，她便将音量放到最低，遥远而清晰地听听圣多明各的梅伦盖舞曲或波多黎各的普列纳舞曲。一天晚上，她突然听到了一个陌生电台的声音，声音又大又清楚，就跟在邻居家里似的。这家电台广播了一条令人心碎的消息、：两个从四十年前开始就在同一个地方重温他们的蜜月的老人，被带他们去游玩的船夫用浆打死了，为的是抢走他们身上所带的十四个美元。当鲁克雷希姐给她讲述了发表在当地报上的事情的全部过程时，她的感触就更为深刻了。警察发现两个老人是被活活打死的，女的七十八岁，男的八十四岁，他们是一对情人，四十年来，一直偷偷地在一块度假，但是他们都有自己的配偶，夫妻关系稳定而幸福，且有众多的子女。

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在听广播小说时，费尔米纳从来没哭过，此时她却不得不强忍住泪水。在接着而来的信中，阿里萨将这条消息的简报寄给了她，但没做任何评论。

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这不是费尔米纳的最后泪水。本等阿里萨六十无伤愈出门，《任义报》就用整个第一版的篇幅登出了所谓乌尔比诺医生与鲁克雷希姬私通的事，并且登了他们的照片。费尔米纳推测着他们私通的细节、次数，方式以及丈夫与他们蔗糖厂的黑人干这种见不得人的勾当时的细节。用血红的大字体登出来的这篇报道，象一声灾难性轰雷，震动厂本地散居的贵族阶层。报道中没有一行字是真实的：乌尔比诺医生与鲁克雷希娘结婚前就是十分要好的朋友，结婚后仍是如此，但从来不是情人。不管怎么说，发表这篇文章不象是为了玷污乌尔比诺医生的名声，因为想起他，人人都会肃然起敬，而是为了损害鲁克雷希她的丈夫，上个星期他被选为社会俱乐部主任。丑闻没过几个小时就被压下去了。鲁克雷希娘再也未去拜访费尔米纳。费尔米纳认为这等于默认了这一过错。

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然而事情很快就清楚了，费尔米纳也未能免遭她那个阶级对她的攻击。《任义报》对她的薄弱之点肆意进行了攻击，这就是她父亲的生意。当父亲被迫出走时，她仅了解他的可疑生意的一段插曲，那是普拉西迪姬告诉她的。后来，当乌尔比诺医生会见省长证实了那件事时，她才相信父亲干了见不得人的事。事情是这样的：两名政府的警察带着搜查令，到了她在福音公园的家，从上到下严格搜了一遍，然而没找到他们要找的东西。最后他们命令打开费尔米纳原来住的房间里的那个带镜子的衣柜。当时只有普拉西迪姐一人在家，又无法告知任何人，她便以没有钥匙为由拒绝打开。那时，一个警察用左轮手枪柄砸碎了门上的玻璃，发现镜子与木板之间塞满了一百美元一张的假钞票。这是一连串跟踪行动的终点，证明了洛伦索?达萨是一笔巨大的国际交易的最后一个环节。这是一次巧妙的诈骗行为，纸币上还带有原钞票的水印：将原值一美元的纸币经过魔术般的化学处理抹去旧版面，印成了一百美元面值的纸币。洛伦索?达萨辩解说，衣柜是女儿结婚后很久才买来的，买来时纸币就应该已藏在里边。但是，警察证实那衣柜从费尔米纳上中学时就在那儿。

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除了他之外，不可能有任何人把那些假钱藏入镜子里。这就是乌尔比诺医生与省长说定将岳文送回故土以掩盖丑行后告诉妻子的唯一情况。但报纸上讲的比这要多得多。

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报纸说，上一世纪如此频繁的内战中的一次，洛伦索?达萨曾经是自由党人总统阿吉列奥?帕拉政府与一个名叫约瑟夫?克?科泽尼奥夫斯基的波兰人之间的牵线人。后者乘控法国国旗的圣安东尼号商船在此逗留数月，试图做成一笔不明不白的武器生意。这位后来以约瑟夫?孔拉德的名字闻名于世的科泽尼奥夫斯基不知怎么与洛伦索?达萨接上了头。洛伦索?达萨用政府的钱买下了这批武器，他持有政府的委任状和正式收据，而且是用纯金支付的。根据报纸的说法，洛伦索?达萨硬说那批武器在一次偷袭中丢失了，其实那次偷袭根本是不可能的，实际上他是以双倍的价钱把武器卖给了保守党人，供他们跟政府作战。

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任义报》还说，洛伦索?达萨以很低的价钱买下了英国军队多余的一批皮靴，那时正值拉斐尔?雷耶斯将军建立了海军。仅此一项交易，他在六个月中就把财富增加了一倍。报纸说，当货物到达港口时，洛伦索?达萨拒收，因为运来的全是右脚的靴子。当海关按现行法律将这批货物拍卖时，又是只有他一个人去购卖，所以只以一百比索的象征性价格成交。与此同时，他的一个同伙以相同的条件买下了另一批左脚穿的靴子，那是在里约阿查到港的。两批靴子配在一起后，洛伦索?达萨便利用与乌尔比诺?德?拉卡列家族的亲戚关系，以百分之两千的利润卖给了新建的海军。

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《任义报》的报道最后说，洛伦索?达萨上世纪末离开大沼泽地圣?胡安市并非象他喜欢说的那样，是为了给女儿的未来寻找更好环境，而是由于被发现在他兴隆的烟草生意中掺假，他在进口烟中掺进剁碎的纸屑，干得如此巧妙，连最精明的吸烟者都未曾察觉而受骗。报纸还披露了他与一家地下国际企业的联系。这家企业在上世纪末最后赚钱的业务就是从巴拿马非法引进中国移民。相反，那项如此损他名誉的。人们议论纷纷的贩买骡子的生意，倒象是他所做过的唯一诚实的生意。

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当阿里萨伤势未意，生平第一次用手杖代替雨伞出门时，他首先去看的就是费尔米纳。他几乎认不出她来了，年龄使她的皮肤皱皱巴巴，悲愤的心情使她痛不欲生。乌尔比诺?达萨大夫在阿里萨养伤期间曾两次去看望他，告诉了他《任义报》的两篇文章使他母亲多么的痛苦和沮丧。看了第一篇文章，她对丈夫的不忠和女友的背叛愤想已极，几乎失去了理智，以致放弃了每月在星期天去家墓祭奠的习惯，因为他在棺材里听不到她的高声辱骂，她感到肺都气炸了，她要和死人进行决斗。

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至于鲁克雷希妞，她让愿意带口信的人告诉她，在那么多睡过她的床的人中间，起码有一个男子汉，她应该为此心满意足了。有关洛伦索?达萨的文章，不知道哪方面对她影响更大，是文章本身，还是发现她父亲的真正身分为时过晚。但是，不管是两者之一，或者两者兼备，反正足以使她垂头丧气了。那为她的容颜大增光彩的灰白色头发，此时变得象黄玉米缨子，那双美丽的母豹眼睛，即使在她暴怒时也不再象昔日那般晶莹发亮。一举一动都表现出不想活下去的决心：本来，吸烟的习惯她早就放弃了，不管是把自己关在卫生间里或采取其它什么方式，可现在她居然第一次在公共场所吸起烟来，而且吸得很凶，开始是吸她自己卷的烟，这是她一直喜欢抽的烟，后来就吸市上最普通常见的烟，因为她已没有时间和耐心去卷了。一个男人，假若不是阿里萨，肯定会问自己，象他这样一位如驴一般生着褥疮的破腿老人，象费尔米纳这样一位除了死亡之外不再渴望别的幸福的女人，未来能给予他们什么呢？可阿里萨不这么想，他从瓦砾中夺回了一线希望之光，他认为费尔米纳的灾难使她显得气度不凡，暴怒使她更为美丽动人，对人世的怨恨必将使她恢复二十岁时的倔强性格。

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她感激阿里萨又增加了一个新的理由，那两篇污蔑性的文章发表后，阿里萨给《任义报》去了一封抗议信，提出报纸应对发表的文章负道德责任，对别人的名誉应该尊重。此信未能在该报发表，但他将信抄了一份寄给加勒比海岸历史最久、态度最严肃的报纸摘报》。这家报纸在头版以显著位置把它登了出来。信上的笔名是朱庇特，信中的道理说得那么透沏，那么尖锐，写得那么感人，以致被读者认为是出自省内最有名的作家之手。那是大洋中一个孤独的声音，但传得很远，听起来很深沉。费尔米纳无须打听就知道作者是谁，她看出了阿里萨的一些观点，甚至看出他有关道德见解的原话。因此，尽管她心灰意懒，她还是怀着一种重新复苏的亲切感接待了他。就在这段时间，一个星期六下午，阿美利卡?维库尼亚单独一人在彭塔纳斯大街的寝室中，无意中在一个没上锁的柜子里发现了阿里萨打字信的副本及费尔米纳手写的信。

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阿里萨的重新登门，大大振奋了费尔米纳的精神，乌尔比诺?达萨医生甚感高兴。他的妹妹奥费利亚却相反，当她得知费尔米纳与一个品德不好的男人保持一种奇怪的友谊，立刻乘新奥尔良第一艘运输水果的轮船返回来。回家的第一周她就看出了阿里萨在这个家里的作用，并且发现他跟母亲喊喊喳喳一直到深夜，有时还象两个情人似的发生暂短的争执。对这一切，她真是怕极了。在乌尔比诺?达萨大夫看来，两位孤独老人情投意合是件好事，她却认为那是一种秘密同居的放荡行为。

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奥费利亚总是这样，她更象祖母布兰卡夫人，仿佛是布兰卡夫人的女儿，而不是她的孙女。她跟她一样出类拔萃，跟她一样自负，跟她一样为偏见所左右。在她看来，一个男人和一个女人之间存在白努无假的友谊是不可思议的，即使年仅五岁的女孩都不可能，更不用说八十岁的女人了。有一次她和哥哥激烈争论时说，阿里萨就差没有最后到她母亲的寡妇床上去安慰她了。乌尔比诺?达萨大夫没有勇气与她对峙，在她面前，他从没有过这种勇气，但是他的妻子插了进来，以平静的语调解释说。

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任何年龄的爱情都是合情合理的。奥费利亚听了这话之后气得暴跳如雷。

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“我们这种年纪谈爱情已属可笑，”她冲着她喊道，“到他们这种年纪还谈爱情，简直是卑鄙。”

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她吵吵嚷嚷，十分激动，坚持要把阿里萨从家中赶出去。她的话终于传到了费尔米纳的耳朵里。象平常一样，费尔米纳不愿佣人们听到她们的谈话，她把女儿叫到寝室去，让她把那指责性的话重说一遍。奥费利亚的话依然是那么严厉，她说，她敢肯定，阿里萨是个浪子，这已是人所共知，他到这个家来是怀有什么不可告人的目的，这对家庭名声的损害要比洛伦索?达萨的种种卑劣行为和乌尔比诺的天真冒险更为严重。费尔米纳一声不吭，甚至连眼皮都不眨一眨地听她讲述。但是，待她讲完时，她可就完全变成了另一个人。

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“我难过的是没有力气油价一顿鞭子，你如此大胆放肆，心术不正，实在该这样收拾你。”她说，“但是，你必须马上就从这个家里滚出去。我在面对我母亲的尸骨发誓，只要我还活着，你就别再踏进这个家门。”

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没有什么力量能说服她。这样，奥费利亚就只好搬到她哥哥家中去住，从那儿她通过有身分的人向母亲带信，百般央求，希望得到她的原谅。然而，一切都是枉然。就连儿子的调停和好友的介入都未能使她心软。最后，她对一向与之保持某种庸俗同谋关系的儿媳妇吐露出真情：“当年就因为我同这个可怜的男人的关系，人们糟践了我的生活，破坏了我的幸福，因为我们太年轻了，而现在，人们又想把这幕剧重演，因为我们太老了。”想到自己青春年华已被葬送，她真是感慨不已。她用一支烟蒂点着了另一支烟，终于将折磨她五脏六腑的毒汁清除干净了。

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“去它的吧！”她说，“如果说我们这些寡妇有什么优趣性的话，那就是再也没有人对我们发号施令了。”

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没有什么办法。当奥费利亚最后确信她的一切请求都无济于事的时候，就回到新奥尔良去了。她从母亲那儿唯一得到的是跟她道别，在她多次恳求后，费尔米纳答应了这件事，但不允许她进家。那是她向死去的母亲发了誓的，对她来说，在那些天昏地暗的日子里，母亲的尸骨是唯一干净的东西。

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在最后几次造访中，他们常常谈到船只。有一次，阿里萨向费尔米纳发出正式邀请，请她乘船沿河做一次休息性旅行。再乘一天火车，即可到达共和国首都。他们象同时代的大部分加勒比人一样，把首都仍称做圣菲，其实这个名字只是上个世纪才用的。费尔米纳还保留着丈夫的坏毛病，不想去游览那座冰冷阴郁的城市。有人告诉她，在那座城市里，女人们除去听五点钟的弥撒外，都足不出户，即使在公共事务场所也不能进冷饮店。而且，街上时时刻刻都挤满送葬队伍，从驮骡钉铁掌的年代起地面上就留下了一个个的小坑，简直比巴黎还糟糕。相反，河流却强烈地吸引着她，她想看看在沙滩上晒太阳的鳄鱼，想在夜间被海牛的女人般的哭声惊醒。

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但是，一想到自己上了年纪，又是个孤身一人的寡妇，去做如此艰难的旅行总有点不大现实。

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后来，当她决心没有丈夫也要活下去时，阿里萨又重申了他的邀请，那时她觉得可能性大了些。后来，由于报上文章的事，她痛骂她的父亲，怨恨她的丈夫，多年来她把鲁克雷希妞一直当成自己最好的朋友，此时发现了她的虚伪的阿谀奉承，自然更是怒火冲天。这一切本已弄得她十分痛苦，不想又跟女儿发生了争吵，结果，她自己都觉得在这个家里成了多余的人了。一个下午，她一面喝着那各种茶叶泡的饮料，一面看一眼院子里的泥塘，在那儿，她的不幸之树再也不会重新发芽了。

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“我想离开这个家，一直往前走，往前走，往前走，永远不再回来。”她说。

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“你乘船去吧。”阿里萨说。

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费尔米纳沉思地瞅了他一眼。

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“好的，你看看办吧，这是完全可能做到的。”她说。

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在说出这句话之前，她从未认真考虑过这次旅行，如今话已出口，她就当真事对待了。儿子和儿媳听了高兴得什么似的，表示理解母亲的心情。阿里萨忙不迭地说明，费尔米纳在他的船上将作为贵宾接待，给她专门布置一间寝室，让她过得跟家里一样舒适，服务将是无可挑剔的，船长亲自负责她的安全及生活。为了振奋她的精神，他给她送去了路线图、绚丽的黄昏景色的明信片和赞颂马格达莱纳河昔日天堂的诗篇。那些诗是有才华的旅客写的，也许正是由于这些杰出的诗篇，马格达莱纳河畔才真的成了天堂。她心绪好的时候就翻一翻这些东西。

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“你用不着象哄小孩那样哄我。”她说，“我去旅行是因为我自己决定要去，并不是对风景有兴趣。”

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当儿子建议让她妻子陪伴她时，她断然拒绝了：“我不是小孩子，用不着别人照顾。”她自己收拾行装。一想到八天上行。五天下行的旅途，她感到是一次很好的休息，除了不可少的东西之外，别的什么都不带。只带了五、六件棉布衣服、梳洗用品。一双上下船穿的鞋和路上穿的拖鞋，仅此而已。这样的旅行，也是她一生中的幻梦。

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一八二四年一月，内河航运创造人，海军准将胡安?贝尔纳尔多?埃尔伯尔斯注册了第一艘航行在马格达莱纳河上的蒸汽轮船，那是艘四十马力的原始玩艺儿，取名“忠诚号”。一个多世纪之后，一个七月七日的下午六点钟，乌尔比诺?达萨医生及妻子陪费尔米纳登上了那艘将带她做首次沿河旅行的轮船。这是当地船厂所造的第一艘船，阿里萨为纪念其光荣的前辈，将它命名为“新忠诚号”。费尔米纳永远不能相信，那个对他们来说如此意味深长的名字纯属历史的偶然，而并非阿里萨长斯浪漫主义的又一杰作。

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不管怎么说，与其它一切老式和新式的内河航船不同，“新忠诚号”紧靠船长舱有一个宽敞而舒适的辅助舱。舱里有一个摆着五颜六色竹制家具的会客厅，一个完全用中国图案装饰起来的双人卧室，一个带浴缸及淋浴设备的卫生间，一个宽敞的带顶了望台，它十分广阔，吊着的颜类植物，船的前方及两侧都看得清清楚楚，还有一套无声响的制冷设备，可以保持整个环境不受外界声音的影响，温度不高不低，总象春天。这个豪华房间被称为“总统舱”，因为到当时为止已有三位共和国总统旅行时住在那儿。这一船舱不是用来赚钱，而是留给高官和贵人使用。阿里萨当了加勒比内河航运公司的董事长后马上让人造此寝舱，公开说法是为了上述目的，但他内心想的是，迟早它会成为他与费尔米纳结婚旅行的幸福的庇护所，对此他充满信心。

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这一日子终于来到了，她以女主人和夫人的身分占据了“总统舱”。船长用香核和熏鲑鱼款待乌尔比诺?达萨医生及夫人，还有阿里萨。船长叫迭戈?萨马利塔诺，他身着白色亚麻布制服，从靴子尖直到用金丝线绣着加勒比内河航运公司徽章的帽子，都是整整齐齐、干干净净，显得很有教养。与其他内河航船船长一样，他有一个结实得象木棉树般的体魄，果断而洪亮的声音，以及弗洛伦萨红衣主教的派头。

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晚上七点，拉了第一道启程汽笛。费尔米纳感到汽笛声震得她的左耳疼痛难忍。

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头天晚上做了些梦，尽是些恶兆，她不敢去解释。大清早她就让人把她带到当时叫做拉?曼加公墓附近的神学院公墓去。她站在丈夫的墓穴前自言自语，对他进行合乎清理的责备，把那些憋在心中的话全部倾吐出来，然后与已故的丈夫和解。接着她向他述说了旅行计划，并说了再“再见”，以示道别。象她每次去欧洲旅行那样，她不想把外出的事告诉任何人，以避免没完没了的送行。虽然她作过多次旅行，但仍感到象第一次出行一般。随着时间的流逝，她的不安也在增加。一上了船，就觉得象是被遗弃了，心中十分凄凉，她真想单独呆在一处痛流快快地哭一场。

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响起最后一道汽笛时，乌尔比诺?达萨大夫和妻子爽快地跟费尔米纳告别。阿里萨陪他们走到下船跳板那儿。乌尔比诺?达萨大夫在妻子后边为他让路，只有这时，他才明白了阿里萨也去旅行。乌尔比诺?达萨大夫掩饰不住自己的惶恐。

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“可是，这事我们不知道呀！”他说。阿里萨向他出示了他的寝般的钥匙，意图再明显不过了：让他明白他占用的是公共甲板上的一个普通舱。然而乌尔比诺?达萨大夫并不觉得这就足以证明他的清白。他向妻子投去一道遇难者的目光，象是为自己的惶”恐寻找一个支撑点，但是他遇到的是冰冷的目光。她以非常低沉而又严厉的声音对他说：“你也……？”是的，他也象妹妹奥费利亚一样，认为爱情有其年龄界限，过了这个界限，就开始不体面了。可是他善于适时作出反应。他与阿里萨握手告别，那握手与其说是感激，倒不如说是无可奈何。

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阿里萨从大厅栏杆那儿看看他们下船。正如他所等待与期望的那样，乌尔比诺?达萨大夫和妻子在登上汽车之前，背转身来看了看他，而他则挥手向他们告别。

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他们也向他挥了挥手。他继续站在栏杆那儿，直到车子在货场院子里的尘埃中消失。

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然后他进到自己的寝舱，穿上一套更适合在船长私人餐室里吃登船后第一顿晚餐的衣服。

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这是一个美丽的夜晚，而且迭戈?萨马利塔诺船长以其四十年河上生涯的内容丰富的故事为这个夜晚加了调料。但是，费尔米纳不得不费老大劲儿才装出了开心惬意的样子。虽然八点钟就拉过了最后一道启航汽笛，送行的人也都下了船，撤了搭板，但是轮船还是在船长吃完饭走上指挥台上开始操作后才开航的。费尔米纳及阿里萨站在大厅的栏杆旁，往外眺望。以辨别城市灯光取乐的喧嚷的旅客，跟他们挤在一起。就这样，轮船慢慢地开出港湾，驶入看不清的水道及布满点点渔灯的沼泽地，最后终于在以马格达莱纳河宽阔的主航道上自由自在地加速行进了。这时，乐队奏起了一支流行的民间乐曲，旅客一片欢腾，舞会乱哄哄地开始了。

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费尔米纳宁愿躲在客舱里。整个晚上她默无一言，阿里萨也听任她去安静地遐想，只是在舱前向她道别时打扰了一下。但是她没有困意，只感到有点冷。她建议两个人一起在舱房了望台前坐一会，看一着河流。阿里萨抱了两个藤椅到栏杆边，关了灯，给她披上条毛毯，尔后坐到她身边。她从他送的小盒子里取出烟叶卷了支烟。她熟练的卷烟技术令人吃惊。她悠悠地吸着，烟雾留在口中，也不说话。接着又卷了两支，不间断地吸着。阿里萨则是一口接一口地唤了两暖壶苦咖啡。

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城市的亮光在天边消失了。从黑乎乎的了望台看去，河流平缓而安静，“月光下）沿岸的牧场变成了闪着磷光的平原。时而可见大堆大堆的黄火旁有间草屋，告诉人们，那儿可以买到供轮船用的木柴。阿里萨对青年时作的那次旅行尚有记忆，而沿河所见使那些记忆陡然复苏，象是昨天刚刚发生的事。他给费尔米纳讲了一些当时的情景，以为可以振作她的情绪，但是她只是吸烟，仿佛什么都没听见似的。

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阿里萨放弃自己的回忆，让她独自去想自己的心事。这当儿她仍旧不停地卷烟、点烟、吸烟，直到将盒子里的烟叶全部卷完、吸光。

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半夜过后，音乐停止，喧哗的旅客们散去，只听到入睡时的窃窃私语。那时，只有他们两个人单独坐在黑暗的了望台上了，两颗心在一起跳动，两个人和轮船行驶的节奏在一起呼吸。

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过了好一会儿，阿里萨借着河水的反光看了一眼费尔米纳。她在出神，表情神秘，河水微弱的反光照在她雕像般的侧影上，显得柔和而甜蜜。他发现她在无声地啜泣。可是，他没有象她希望的那样去安慰她或等着她的眼泪流尽，而是吓得慌了神儿。

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“你是想一个人呆着吗？”他问。

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“要是那样，我就不会叫你进来了。”她说。

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于是，他在黑暗中伸出指头，摸索着寻找另外一只手。他找到了，那只手正等着他。在同一瞬间，两个人都十分清楚地意识到，两只手中哪一只都不是他们接触之前所想象的那样，而是两只老骨头的手。但是，过了片刻，就变成他们想象的手了。她以动词的现在时开始讲述已故的丈夫，就象他仍然活在世上。阿里萨明白，对她来说，也到了这样的时刻，她要带着庄重、崇高和无法遏制的活下去的愿望自问，她该如何对待自己的没有主人的爱情。

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费尔米纳为了不把手从他的手中抽出来，只好停止吸烟。她沉溺在理解的热望之中。她不能想象有比她的丈夫更好的丈夫了。然而，当她回忆起她的生活时，想的更多的都是挫折和不幸，而不是满意和高兴。他们有那么多相互理解的事，那么多毫无意义的争执，那么多没解决好的怨恨。突然，她叹了口气：“真是无法相信，这么多年，发生了那么多口角和令人不悦的事，居然还能如此幸福，天哪，实际上连这是不是爱情也不晓得！”讲出了内心的话，费尔米纳感到心情异常忧郁。轮船行驶得十分缓慢，有如一只伺机觅食的巨大动物在悄悄爬行。费尔米纳从忧虑中苏醒了。

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“现在，你走吧！”她说。

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阿里萨紧握她的手，向她俯过身去，想吻一下她的面颊。但是，她躲开了他，并以沙哑而温柔的声音说：“不行了，我已是老太婆了！”

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她听见他在黑暗中走出来，听见他走在楼梯上的脚步声，听见他渐渐消失的声音。费尔米纳又点了一支烟。一面吸着，一面看到了乌尔比诺医生。他穿着整洁的麻布衣服，带着职业的庄严和明显的同情，以及彬彬有礼的爱。从另一条过去的船上挥舞着白帽子向她做再见的手势。“我们男人都是些可悲的偏见的奴隶。”有一次他这么对她说，“相反，当一个女人决定和一个男人睡觉的时候，没有她跳不过去的围墙，没有她推不倒的堡垒，也没有任何她不能对付的道德：一切都见鬼去吧。”

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费尔米纳坐在那儿一动不动，直到天亮。她一直在想着阿里萨，不是福音公园中那个神情忧郁的哨兵阿里萨，那个阿里萨已激不起她的一丝怀念之情了，而是此时的阿里萨，他衰老了，然而是真实的阿里萨，他一直伸手可及，但却没有及时识别出来。当轮船喘着粗气拖着她向天边映出的第一抹玫瑰色光亮行进时，她唯一祈求上帝的是让阿里萨知道第二天从何处重新开始。

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阿里萨知道第二天该怎么办。费尔米纳告诉船上的伤者让她好好睡一觉，不要惊动她。当她醒来的时候，床头柜上已摆着一个花瓶，花瓶中插着一朵白玫瑰，它是那样的新鲜，还挂着清晨的露珠。玫瑰花旁还有一封阿里萨的信，有好多页，说明他跟她道别后一直在写。这是一封冷静的信，只是述说了自从头天晚上以来的心情，没有涉及别的事。它象其它的信一样抒情，象所有信那样字斟句酌，但是以现实为基础。费尔米纳读着读着害臊起来，心跳得厉害。信的结尾恳求她，在她准备就绪后通知船上的侍者，因为船长在指挥台上等着他们，想给他们表演一下轮船操作。

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十一点，她已作好了准备，洗过澡，身上飘溢着香皂的气味，穿着一件很朴素的灰色薄棉布寡妇服，已从头夜的折磨中完全恢复过来。她让那位穿着洁白衣服专门为船长服务的侍者送来一份早餐，但没有捎信让他们来找自己。她自个儿走上了甲板。万里无云的天空闪着耀眼的光芒，她看见阿里萨正在指挥台上跟船长交谈。

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她觉得他变成了另一个人，这不仅因为此时她对他已另眼相看，而且还因为他的确变了。他一反常态，脱下他穿了一辈子的暗色衣服，穿上了一双很舒服的白皮鞋和麻布衫裤，上衣还是开领短袖的，胸前的口袋上绣着他的名字。头上还戴一顶苏格兰帽，也是白色的，近视镜框里放上了养目镜片。很明显，那一切都是第一次，而且是都为那次旅行刚刚特意买来的，只有那条很旧的棕色腰带除外。费尔米纳一见那腰带，就象在自己的汤中发现了一只死苍蝇。一想到那身打扮显然是给她看的，她的双颊不禁感到火辣辣的，立刻变得象一块红布。她跟他打招呼时显得有些慌乱，看到她的慌乱他就更慌乱，他们同时意识到两个人表现得跟一对未婚夫妻一样，就变得更加慌乱，而当两个人意识到自己的慌乱时就变得愈发慌乱，以致船长萨马利塔诺察觉到之一点，对他们有点可怜了。为了把他们从窘境中解脱出来，他给他们讲解指挥系统操作和轮船机械原理，整整讲了两个钟头。马格达莱纳河此段没有河岸， 宽阔的河滩一直伸延到天边。轮船航行得十分缓慢。这里的水与入海d处的浊水截然不同，静静地流着，十分清澈，在烈火般的太阳下闪烁着金属般的光泽。费尔米纳记得那一个布满沙洲的三角洲。

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“河面变得越来越窄了。”船长对她说。

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阿里萨确实对变化感到惊奇。当第二天航行变得愈发困难时他就更惊奇了。他发现，世界大河之一的马格达莱纳河的原河道，现在只是记忆中的一场幻梦了。萨马利塔诺船长给他们解释说，五十年的滥伐森林把河流毁了。轮船的锅炉吞没了阿里萨第一次旅行时感到压抑的大树参天的茂密的原始森林。费尔米纳再也看不到她梦中的动物了：新奥尔良皮革厂的猎人们将几个钟头几个钟头在河岸峭壁上张着大口装死，伺机扑捉蝴蝶的鳄鱼捕杀光了；随着繁茂枝叶的完结，鹦鹉的喧嚣，长尾猴及其发疯般的吼叫也逐渐销声匿迹了；有着巨大的乳房给幼畜喂奶、在河滩上象女人一样伤心协哭的海牛，也被那些以打猎取乐的猎人用装甲子弹打尽杀绝了。

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萨马利塔诺船长对海牛有一种近乎母性的爱，因为他觉得它们象是些由于在爱情上行为不端而被判了罪的夫人，而且他相信这样一个神话：海牛是动物界中唯一只有雌没有雄的动物。他一向反对人们从船上射杀海牛——虽然有禁止射杀海牛的法律，但有些人还是常常这样干。一个身带合法证件的美国北卡罗来纳洲的猎人，违背他的命令，用他那斯普林费尔德式猎枪准确地射击打碎了一只母海牛的脑袋，小诲牛痛苦得发了疯，伏在母海牛尸体上哭叫。船长让人将那“孤儿”弄到船上来自己照管，而把那猎手扔在荒滩上与被他杀害的母海牛作伴。由于外交上的抗议，他坐了六个月的牢，几乎丢了航行许可证。但是从牢中出来以后，不管是遇到多少次类似事件，他仍准备这么干。然而，那件市成了一段历史性的插曲：那只海牛孤儿在巴兰卡斯的圣?尼科拉斯稀有动物园中长大，并且生活了多年，成了在这条河上所见到的最后一头海牛。

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“当我经过这段河滩时，”船长说，“我都恳求上帝让那个美国佬再来乘我的船，好叫我再将他扔在荒滩上。”

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费尔米纳本来对船长没有好感，听了这个慈悲心肠的伟大的故事后却深为感动，以致认那天下午起，就把他摆在自己内心深处的一个特殊位置上。她做得对，旅行侧开始，往后她会有足够的机会发觉自己的正确。

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费尔米纳和阿里萨在指挥台上一直呆到吃午饭的时候，那时刚刚过了卡拉玛尔镇。这个镇子几年前非常繁荣，娱乐活动不断，如今街道却变得荒凉冷落，成了一个在废墟上的港口。从船上只看到一个穿白色衣服的女人，她摇着手绢在岸边向船上的人打手势。费尔米纳不理解为何不让这个女人上船，看上去她十分痛苦。可是船长解释说，那是个淹死鬼的魂灵，在那儿打手势是想引诱船只航行到对岸危险的旋涡中去。他们从离她很近的地方经过，在阳光下费尔米纳把她的一切都看得真真切切。她不怀疑事实上那个女人并不存在，但她觉得她有些面熟。

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那是一个漫长而炎热的日子。费尔米纳吃过午饭就回到舱里去睡她不可缺的午觉，但是由于耳痛没有睡好。当这条船在老巴兰卡上边十几公里远的地方与另一条加勒比内河航运公司的轮船相遇而互相拉汽笛致意时，她耳膜受到激烈震动，耳疾更加严重了。阿里萨在大厅里生着打了个盹儿，大部分没买客舱票的旅客也象半夜一样在那儿睡觉。他梦见罗莎尔芭在一个很近的地方上了船。她单身旅行，穿着上世纪蒙波斯地方的服装，是她，而不是小孩，在挂在廊檐下的柳条筐里睡午觉。这是一个即费解又有趣的梦，整个下午，他一面与船长及两名旅客打骨牌，一面在回味这个梦。

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太阳落山，炎热稍退。轮船上又活跃了。旅客们象从昏睡中醒过来一样，刚刚洗完澡换上干净衣服钻出来， 坐在大厅的藤椅l等着开晚饭。一个传者，在人们嘲弄的掌声中，摇着教堂司事铃，从甲板一头走到另一头，宣布晚饭五点开始，人们吃饭时，乐队奏起方丹戈舞曲，舞会一直持续到半夜。

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费尔米纳由于耳痛没有胃口吃晚饭。她看到了第一次从岸上给锅炉送来的木柴。

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那是在一个光秃秃的悬崖上，除在堆在那儿的树干外没有任何东西。一个上了年纪的人在照料着这项买卖。在很长一段距离内好象再没有看见什么。费尔米纳觉得那是一次漫长而枯燥无味的停留，这在欧洲远洋轮上是不可想象的。了望台内安有冷气设备，依旧闷热难忍。轮船重新起锚之后，音乐也更欢快了。在希蒂奥?诺埃沃镇，从一所孤零零的房子的孤零零的窗户中射出了孤零零的灯光。港口办公室没按惯例给轮船亮出载货还是载客的信号，因而轮船也没致意就驶过了。

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整个下午，费尔米纳都在自问，阿里萨将会用什么办法不敲她的舱门而见到她。

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八点钟以后，她再也忍不住了，她要和他在一起。她走进过道，希望以一种看上去似乎是偶然的方式碰到他。她无须走多远就达到了目的，阿里萨正在走廊的一张长靠背椅子上，沉默不语，神情悲伤，象在福音公园里一样，在两个钟头以前他就一遍遍地问自己怎样才能见到她。两个人露出了相同的吃惊表情，但两人都知道那是装出来的。他们一起走上了一等舱甲板，在那儿踱步。甲板上挤满了年轻人和吵吵嚷嚷的大学生，他们已到了假期的最后阶段，希望痛痛快快地玩一场，把剩余的精力消耗掉。在餐厅里，阿里萨和费尔米纳象大学生一样站在柜台前喝了一瓶冷饮，后者突然发现自己处于一种可怕的境地中，惊叫道：“多可怕呀！”阿里萨问她在想什么，又看到了什么。

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“我在想那可怜的老人，”她说，“就是在游艇上被桨打死的两位老人。”

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两人在昏暗的了望台上没有任何打扰地进行了一次长谈后，音乐停了，他们便去睡觉。没有月亮，天空阴沉，天边在打闪，不时地照亮他们，但却不闻雷声。阿里萨为她卷了烟，她只吸了四根，那是在耳痛减轻的时候。当轮船与其它轮船相遇，或减缓速度，以试探河水深浅而拉响汽笛的时候，她的耳痛便又加剧，折磨得她不敢再吸烟。他告诉她，他在赛诗会上、气球旅行时和杂技两轮脚踏车上见过她，当时他心情是多么地激动，他全年都在眼巴巴地等着公共喜庆活动的到来，目的只是为了看到她。她也见过他许多次，但从未想到，他在那儿仅仅是为了看她。然而，当她差不多在一年前读到他的信时，她突然暗暗自问，他为什么从未参加赛诗会呢?

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如果参加， 他肯定会获胜的。阿里萨在她面前撤i谎，说那些诗是写给她看的，专门给她写的，除她之外，就只有他自己读到那些诗。那时是她采取了主动，在黑暗中寻找他的手，但不象前天晚上那样。一只手等待另一只手慢慢抓住它，而是一下子突然抓住。阿里萨刹时惊呆了，心也变得冰冷。

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“女人多怪呀！”他说。

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她发出了一阵深沉的笑，象小鸽子一般，但转而又想起了游艇上的老人来。那是上帝的旨意，那个形象将会一直追随着她。这天晚上她居然能经受得住，因为她觉得平静、轻松，这是她一生中少有的。

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摆脱了一切负疚之感。她真愿整夜留在那儿，不说话，把他冰冷的汗渍渍的手握在自己手中，直到天亮。但是她忍受不了耳朵的剧痛。所以，当音乐停下来，普通舱的旅客在大厅里忙碌了一阵控好吊床后，她清楚地意识到耳朵的疼痛比和他在一起的愿望更强烈。她知道，只要把这件事告诉他，耳痛马上可以减轻，但她没有这样做，为的是不让他担心。她感到自己了解他，就象跟他生活了一辈子一样。她相信，只要往回走能减轻她的疼痛的话，他是会立即下令把船开回港口的。

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阿里萨早已预料到这天晚上事情会这样发生，于是便退了出去。已经走到了舱门口，他试图在告别时吻她一下，但她给了他左脸。他坚持着要右脸，并且呼吸已断断续续，她只好依了他，而巴那股撒娇的劲儿，远在她的中学时代都未见过。那时他再次坚持，而地则用双唇迎接了他。她浑身颤抖，她力图用笑声抑制这种颤抖，自从新婚之夜以来，她从来没这样笑过。

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“我的上帝！”她说，“在船上我真够疯的！”

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阿里萨震惊了。真的，正如她自己说过的那样，她已有一股老太婆的酸味了。

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然而，当他在睡着的旅客的吊床迷宫中寻找着道路向自己的舱房走去时，想到自己比她还大四岁，应该也有同样的味道，而且她准会以同样的激动察觉到了，于是便得到了安慰。这是人发酵的味儿，他在最早的那些情人身上闻到过，她们也在他身上闻到过。炮筒子纳萨雷特的道编曾十分粗俗地对他说过：“我们都有兀螳味了。”

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两人都能相互忍受，因为他们是半斤八两，我的味儿跟你的味儿抵消。但是，对阿美利卡?维库尼亚他却常常很当心，她的孩童味道总是激起他母亲般的本能。可是，每每想到她可能忍受不了他的老色鬼的味道，他就感到十分不安。但这一切都已成了过去。要紧的是，自从埃斯科拉斯蒂卡姑妈那天下午将祈祷书放在电报局的柜台上起，今天夜晚是阿里萨第一次感受到的幸福。这种幸福是如此强烈，以致他都有点害怕了。

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五点钟，他开始入睡，轮船上的会计在桑布拉诺港将他唤醒，交给了他一份加急电报。电报是前一天发出的，由卡西亚妮签署。那是一封可怕的电报，只有一行字：阿美利卡?维库尼亚昨日死亡，原因不详。早上十一点钟，他通过电报与卡西亚妮联系，了解到了事情的真相。自从他离开邮电局以后，这是他第一次重新操作发报机。由于期末考试不及格，阿美利卡?维库尼亚极端苦闷，便喝了一瓶从校医务室偷来的鸦片配。阿里萨知道，那消息并不完全确实。可是，阿美利卡?维库尼亚绝对不会留下任何文字，从而使某个人为她的这一决定受到谴责。她家里的人此时正从帕德雷港赶来，那是卡西亚妮通知他们的，葬礼将在当天下午五时举行。阿里萨松了口气。为了继续活下去，他唯一能做的就是不让那件事的回忆折磨自己。

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虽然在余生中那一回忆会时常不合时宜地突然再现，如同老伤疤的刺痛一般，但他还是将它从脑海中抹掉一厂。

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后来的日子又是炎热而漫长的。河水变得浑浊起来，河面变得越来越窄，两岸已不见盘根错节的参天大树，这种大树当年曾使阿里萨感到吃惊。现在看到的只是枯焦的平地，被轮船锅炉吞没的整片原始森林的残迹，以及被上帝遗弃的村镇的瓦砾。这些村镇的街道，即使在最干旱的季节里，也被水浸泡着。晚间使他们难以成眠的，不是河滩上海牛的美人鱼般的歌声，而是那漂向海洋的死尸的恶臭。虽然没有战争，也没有瘟疫，但是有膨胀起来的浮尸在河里漂过。有一次，船长意味深长地说：“我们奉命告诉旅客，这是些偶然失足淹死的人。”过去每到中午最闷热的时刻，鹦鹉便吱吱喳喳地吵闹起来，长尾猴便嗷嗷地长鸣起来，现在这一切都无声无息了，取而代之的，只是荒芜了的大地的寂静。

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供应木柴的地方很少，而且相距甚远，结果“新忠诚”号航行到第四天就断了燃料，不得不就地停泊了几乎一个星期。与此同时，船上一伙一伙人深入到浮着灰烬的沼泽中去寻找最后剩下来的零星树木。没有别的木柴了，樵夫们离开了他们的树在，以逃避地主老爷们的残暴，逃避从天而降的霍乱，逃避政府坚持用转移注意力的法令掩盖的不明显的战事。闲得无聊的旅客们进行游泳比赛，组织出征打猎。

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回来时带着活鼠晰，将它们剖开肚子，取出一串串通明的软蛋，然后又用打背包的针将它们的肚子缝合。他们把成串的鼠绒蛋晾在轮船栏杆上。邻近村镇上的穷妓女们追随出征队的足迹，在河岸两边的悬崖上临时支起帐篷，带去音乐和食品，在搁浅的船对面欢闹。

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在就任加勒比内河航运公司董事长以前很久，阿里萨就不断接到关于河流状况受到严重破坏的报告，可是他几乎连看都不看。他安慰股东们说：“别担心，等木柴用光了，就会有烧油的船了。”他一直被费尔米纳弄得无精打采，从来没为此事动过脑筋，当察觉到实情时，已无计可施了，又不能去开辟一条新河。晚上，即使在水位最高的时候，也必须停下船来方能睡觉。这时，连活着这件起码的事情都变得难以忍受了。大部分旅客，尤其欧洲人，脱开肮脏的舱室，到甲板上走来走去地过夜，用擦拭没完没了地流淌的汗水的毛巾驱赶着各种毒虫。第二天黎明，他们精疲力尽，身上被咬得肿起大包。十九世纪初叶的一个英国旅行者在谈到那甚至可能延续五十天的独木舟和骑驴结合的旅行时，曾这样写道：“这是一个人所能进行的最糟糕、最不舒服的国外旅行了。”蒸汽轮船开航的头八十年，情况有了改变，后来又变成了这个样子，而且将永远如此。鳄鱼吃掉了最后一只蝴蝶，母海牛绝迹了，在村镇，鹦鹉、长尾猴也都不见了，一切都完了。

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“没问题。”船长笑着说，“再有几年，我们就将在干涸的河道上开着豪华汽车来了。”

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费尔米纳和阿里萨头三天还处在了望台的封闭的柔和的春天般的环境里。但是，一旦实行木柴配给制，冷气系统就失掉了，一总统舱”同样变成了大蒸笼。靠着从敞开的窗户吹进来的河风纳凉，费尔比纳尚能度过晚上的难关，她需要用毛巾不断地赶蚊虫，因为在停船时虫子太多，喷杀虫剂已毫无用处。费尔米纳耳朵痛得再也不能忍受，可一天早上醒来时，突然疼痛完全停止了，仿佛一只叫炸了肚皮的知了，一点声音也没有了。到了晚上，她才发现左耳听不见了。阿里萨从这边跟她讲话时，她得转过头来才听得清他说些什么。她没告诉任何人，只是默默地忍受着，反正到了这个年纪到处是毛病，再加一个也无所谓。

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无论如何，船的延误对他们来说是件上帝保佑的大好事。阿里萨有一次看到这么一句话：“灾难中的爱情更加伟大和高尚。”“总统舱”中的潮湿使他们隐入一种超越现实的昏睡之中，在这种情况下，无须你问我点什么，我问你点什么，爱起来就更容易。他们一个钟头一个钟头地在栏杆的靠背椅上拉着手、亲吻，深醉在欢乐之中。第三个昏昏欲睡的夜晚，她备了一瓶菌香酒等他。过去，她与表姐伊尔德布兰达在一起曾偷偷喝过这种酒。后来，结了婚，有了孩子，就和那与自己格格不久的女友们一块唱了。她需要头脑有一点糊涂，以便不要过分清醒地去考虑自己的命运。可是阿里萨却以为，她是为了鼓起勇气走最后一步。在这种想法的驱使下，他鼓足勇气用指尖去摸她那干瘪的脖颈，象装有金属骨架一样的胸部，塌陷的臀部和老母鹿般的大腿。她闭着眼睛，心满意足地听凭他抚摩，没有颤抖，嘴里不时吸一口烟，呷一口酒。当他摸到她的小肚子时，她的肚皮里已经灌满茵香酒了。

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“如果我们一定要于那种事，那就干吧！”她说，“不过得象大人那样干。”

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她将他带到卧室去，亮着灯，开始大大方方地脱衣服。阿里萨仰面躺在床上，试图控制住自己的感情，他又一次不知应该如何处置到手的猎获物了。费尔米纳对他说：“你别看！”他继续盯着天花板，问她为什么这样说。

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“因为一看你就不会喜欢了。”她说。

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他看了她一眼，看见赤裸的上身。跟他的想象一模一样，她的肩膀满是皱纹，乳房耷拉着，肋骨包在青蛙皮似的苍白而冰凉的皮肤里。她用刚刚脱下来的紧身汗衫盖住胸部，把灯关了。他从床上坐了起来，在黑暗中脱衣服，脱一件就往她身上扔一件，她则笑得上气不接下气地一件件给他扔回去。

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他们仰面躺了好长一会。随着醉意消失，他越来越焦虑了。她却十分安静，近乎丧失了意志，但她祈求上帝不要叫她象每次喝茵香酒失态那样傻笑起来。他们谈着，目的在于消磨时间。谈他们自己，谈各自不同的生活，谈他们赤裸裸地躺在一只轮船的黑咕隆步的船房里的令人难以置信的偶然性——他们本来应该去思考等死的问题！她从来没有听说过他有女人，一个也没有，在这个城里，一切事情甚至在被证实之前就会家喻户晓的。她是偶然给他提起这件事的，而他则立即作了回答，声音一点也不含糊：“那是因为我在为你保留着童身。”

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虽然可能真是如此，可她无论如何也不相信，因为他的情书就是用这类句子写成的。那些情书不是因其内容而有价值，而是由于其令人目眩的威力。但她喜欢他说这话的勇气。而阿里萨这时则突然暗暗自问那件他从来也没敢问过自己的事：她在夫妻生活之外还有什么样的外遇？即便有，他也绝不会感到惊奇，因为他知道，女人和男人一样喜欢秘密冒险的。在男人和女人之间，计谋，冲动，背叛，大家都有，相互不感内疚。但他没有问她。他做得对。有一个时期，本来她与教会的关系已经相当紧张了，而忏悔牧师偏偏不着边际地问她是否有过对丈夫的不忠行为。她没有回答就站起来，没有做完忏悔，也没有告别，便悻悻而去。自此以后，她再也没去找这个牧师，也没找别的牧师去做忏悔。

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在后来的日子里，他们一刻也没有分开过，几乎连吃饭都不出舱门。萨马利塔诺船长凭着本能就能发现他船上任何企图保守的隐秘，每天早上都给他们送上白玫瑰，给他们播送他们那个时代的华尔兹小夜曲，吩咐给他们准备加入刺激性佐料的开玩笑性质的饭菜。

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如果不是船长写了个条子通知他们，航行十一天之后，这天午餐后就将到达最后一个港口“黄金港”的话，他们是不会想到从船舱里走出来的。费尔米纳和阿里萨从船舱里看到一大片在黄金色的阳光照耀下高高耸立的房子，于是他们理解了港口名字的来历。然而，当感到热得象锅炉般的空气，看到大街上熔化的沥青时，他们就颇不以为然了。再说，轮船也没有停泊在那儿，而是停靠在对岸，那里是通往圣菲的铁路总站。

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旅客们一下船，他们就离开了庇护所。费尔米纳在空旷的大厅里呼吸着未受污染的新鲜空气，两个人从船上了望着在火车厢中寻找自己行李的乱哄哄的人群，那列火车有如一个玩具。可以想见，这些人是来自欧洲，尤其是女人，她们身上的北欧人的大衣和上一个世纪的帽子，跟灰尘飞扬的炎热的伏天显得十分不和谐。有一些女人的头发上装饰着美丽的土豆花，由于天热，已开始蔫了。列车在梦幻般的大草原上奔驰了一天，他们刚刚从安第斯平原来到这里，还没来得及换上加勒比地区的衣服。

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在喧闹的市场上，一位面目可悲的老人正从他的叫花子大衣口袋里往外掏小鸡。

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他穿着一件该是别人丢弃的破旧外套——外套的主人要比他高大魁梧——突然从人群中挤出来，摘下了帽子，将它翻开放在码头上，看看是否有人愿意往里扔个硬币，同时开始从衣兜里抓出一把一把半死不活的小雏鸡，仿佛小鸡是在他手指间繁殖出来的。一时间，码头上到处是一片跑动着的小鸡了，它们瞅瞅地叫着，急匆匆的旅客们把它们踩在脚下还不知道。费尔米纳被这种象是为欢迎她而出现的奇观迷住了，连回程的旅客何时开始上船都没有发觉。她的快活日子结束了。在登船的人中间，她看到了许多熟悉的面孔，有一些还是不久前在悼唁活动中陪过她的朋友，于是她赶快又躲进舱里去。阿里萨发现她惊恐不安。她宁愿死也不愿在丈夫死后这么短的时间中所进行的一次消遣性旅行中让自己熟悉的人发现。她的沮丧对阿里萨影响是如此之大，以致他答应要想出某种办法来保护她，而不是让她象坐牢一样，总是呆在舱房里。

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当他们在船长专用餐厅吃晚餐的时候，他突然有了主意。好久以来，船长在为一个问题感到不安，并想跟阿里萨进行讨论，但他一直躲开他，理由总是一句话：“这些啰嗦事卡西亚妮处理得比我强。”但这一次他却听进去了。事情是，轮船上行时装货物，下行候却跑空船，而载客的情况却恰恰相反。“载货有利，付的钱多，又不用吃饭。”他说。费尔米纳晚饭吃得很没滋味。对两个男人关于票价的讨论感到厌烦。但是，阿里萨一直跟船长讨论到最后，终于提出了一个在船长看来有可能使他得救的问题。

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“我们来作一个假设，”他说，“能否作一次直达航行，不装货物，不运旅客，也不在任何一个港口靠岸？”

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船长说，这只是假设而已。加勒比内河航运公司有各种劳务协议，这一点，阿里萨比任何人更清楚。其中包括运货合同、载客合同、邮政合同及许多其它合同，大部分是必须履行的。唯一可以不履行一切合同的条件，是船上发生瘟疫。轮船宣布处于隔离检疫期，升起黄色旗，并作紧急航行。由于在河上多次发现霍乱病人，萨马利塔诺船长曾几次这样做，虽然过后卫生当局强迫医生签署了普通痢疾证明、另外，在这条河流的历史上，许多次曾升起过标志瘟疫的黄色旗，为的是逃税＼不接受不愿捎载的旅客和避免不恰当的检查。阿里萨在桌子下面找到了费尔米纳的手。

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“那好。”他说，“就这么办？”

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船长吃了一惊，转瞬间，凭着他老狐狸的本能，把一切都看得明明白白。

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“这条船该由我指挥，但您指挥我们大家，”他说，“那么，如果您说了算数的话，就请给我一份书面的命令，我们马上就启航。”

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他说话当然是算数的。阿里萨签署了命令。归根结底，谁都知道虽然卫生当局打如意算盘，霍乱时期尚未过去。至于轮船，不成问题：已经装上的少许货物可以转到别的船上，对旅客就说是机器出了事故，请他们在这天凌晨改上另一家公司的船。做这些事都是不道德的，甚至可说是卑鄙的，但在阿里萨看来，既然为了爱情，也就没有什么不合法的。船长唯一请求的是在纳雷港停一下，让一个陪他旅行的人上船，他也有自己的隐私。

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这样，“新忠诚”号第二天天一亮就起锚了，没货，也没载客，大桅杆上标志霍乱的黄色旗啦啦啦啦地飘扬。傍晚，他们在纳雷港让一个比船长还高大结实的女人上了船。她异乎寻常的美丽，只差一把胡子就可以受聘到马戏团里表演了。她叫塞奈达?内维斯，但船长叫她“我的魔女”：一个老情人。他常常在一个港口把她带上，在另一个港口把她放下。她一上船，便沉浸在幸福的旋涡之中。在那个令人伤心触目的地方，阿里萨对罗莎尔色的怀念不禁油然而生。这时，他看见开往恩维加多的火车正在艰难地沿着当年驮骡走过的山路往上爬行着。天空突然落下了亚马逊河地区的瓢泼大雨，而且在整个未来的旅行中一直很少停歇。但谁都不在意，航行中的娱乐活动连续不断，势不可挡。那天晚上，作为个人对欢乐的贡献，费尔米纳在船员们的欢呼中下了厨房，为大家做了一道他们从未尝过的新菜，阿里萨将其命名为“爱之茄”。

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白天，他们玩牌，吃得肚子都要爆炸了。午觉睡得又长又酣，醒来时个个疲惫不堪。太阳刚到西方，乐队即开始演奏，他们吃娃鱼，喝首香酒，吃饱了仍不停口。

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这是一次快速旅行，船轻，顺流，水好，源头下了大雨，那个星期及整个途中都在下大雨，上涨的河水冲着轮船风驰电掣般地前进。有些村镇向他们开炮，表示要驱赶霍乱，而他们则以一声凄惨的汽笛表示感谢。任何公司和他们相遇的船只都向他们发出同情的信号。在梅塞德斯出生地马岗格镇，加足了以后旅程所需的全部木柴。

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费尔米纳的那只好耳朵也开始听到轮船的汽笛声，把她吓了一跳。但是喝曹秀酒的第二天，两只耳朵同时听到时就好多了。她发觉，玫瑰花比过去更香了，鸟儿黎明时比从前叫得更加动听了，上帝制造了一只海牛，把它放到了塔马拉梅克河滩上，唯一的目的就是把她唤醒。船长听到了海牛的叫声，命令改变船的方向，他们终于看见了一头巨大的海牛，它正在把一头小海牛抱在怀里喂奶。不管是阿里萨还是费尔米纳，都没有意识到他们已经多么情投意合，心心相印。她帮他灌肠，让他多睡会儿，自己早早起来为他洗涮他放在杯中的假牙，她丢掉眼镜的问题解决了，因为她可以戴上他的眼镜看书和缝补衣服。一天早上，她醒来时，看见他正在暗中缝衬衣上的纽扣，没等他再说那句“需要有两个老婆”的口头禅，她就把活儿抢到了自己手里。相反，她唯一需要他做的事，只是给她拔火罐来消除背痛。

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阿里萨则用乐队的小提琴重新开始抒发他的旧情。只用了半天工夫，他便能为她演奏“戴王冠的仙女”这支华尔兹舞曲了。一连几个小时他都拉这只舞曲，直到大家强迫他停下来。一天夜里，费尔米纳平生第一次突然在窒息中醒来。她想哭，不是由于愤怒，而是由于痛苦，因为她想起了被船工用奖活活打死的游艇上那两位老人。相反，她对那不停的大雨却完全无动于衷，她想巴黎也许并非象自己感觉的那样阴郁，圣菲的大街上也许并没有那么多葬礼，这种想法为时已晚。将来再与阿里萨一块旅行的梦想，在她的脑际涌现出来：疯狂的旅行，不带那么多行李，不进行社交活动，换言之，纯粹的爱情旅行。

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旅行结束的前夜，他们举行了一次盛大的晚会，晚会上装饰了纸花环，还挂了彩灯。黄昏时分，雨停了。船长和塞奈达搂得紧紧地跳了最初的几个博莱罗舞。在那些年月里，博莱罗舞曲已开始令人心醉。阿里萨大着胆子向费尔米纳建议一块亲亲热热地跳个意味深长的华尔兹舞，她拒绝了。然而，整个晚上她都用脑袋和鞋跟和着舞曲的节拍打点儿，甚至有一会儿不知不觉地坐着就跳起舞来。与此同时，船长和他的魔女也如胶似漆地在阴影中跳着博莱罗舞。费尔米纳喝了那么多茵香酒，以致大家只好扶着她上楼梯，她突然又终又笑，惊动了周围的人。可是，她一回到舱房，便在温柔的香气中控制住了自己。他们安安静静地在一起叙着旧情，这旧情将作为对那次发疯般的旅行的最美的记忆永远留在他们的脑海中。跟船长和塞奈达所猜想的相反，他们的感觉不象新婚夫妇，更不象晚遇的情人。那颇象一下越过了夫妻生活中必不可少的艰苦磨难，未经任河曲折，而直接奔向了爱巢。他们象被生活伤害了的一对老年夫妻那样，不声不响地超脱了激情的陷阱，超脱了幻想和醒悟的粗鲁的嘲弄，到达了爱情的彼岸。因为长期共同的经历使他们明白，不管在任何时候，任何地方，爱情就是爱情，离死亡越近，爱得就越深。

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六点钟，他们醒了。她由于喝了茵香酒感到脑袋剧烈的疼痛。同时，她感到小说意乱，因为她似乎看到乌尔比诺医生又回来了，比从树上滑下来时胖了些，年轻了些，坐在家门口的摇椅上等着她。然而，她十分清楚地意识到，那不是商香酒的作用，而是由于马上就要到家厂。

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“就要跟死一样了。”她说。

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阿里萨听了这话大吃一惊，因为他也隐隐约约地有这种想法，这意味着他回家后再也不能活下去了。无论他，还是她，都无法想象再适应另一个不同于船舱的家，吃不同于船上的饭菜，投身于一种对他们来说永远是陌生的生活。真的，就跟要死一样了。他无法再入睡，仰面躺在床上，双手交叉枕在脑勺下。一会儿，阿美利卡?维库尼亚的事情如一把利剑似地刺伤了他的心，以致他痛苦地给曲起来。他把自己关在卫生间里，痛痛快快地哭了一场，一直哭到流尽最后一满眼泪。只有在这时，他才有勇气承认他曾经是多么地爱她。

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当他们穿好衣服起来准备下船时，当年西班牙人的关口水道和沼泽地已被抛在后面，轮船开始在海湾里的废弃的破船和贮油池之间行驶了。这是一个星期四，灿烂的阳光在总督城房舍的金色圆顶上空升起，但是费尔米纳从船栏上却忍受不了这天堂一般威严的地方的恶臭和被鼠晰糟蹋了的堡垒的高傲：现实生活的可怖。无论是他还是她，不用说，都未曾感到这么容易地就累垮了。

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他们在饭厅里找到了船长，他那副乱七八糟的样子，与他平常的干净洒脱的仪表很不协调：胡子没刮，眼睛因失眠而布满血丝，衣服被前天夜间的汗水渍湿，说起话来颠三倒四，还不时打着带茵香酒味的嗝儿。塞奈达还睡着。他们开始默默地吃早餐。这时，一艘港口卫生局的汽油艇命令他们停船。

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船长从指挥台上大声喊叫着回答武装巡逻队的问语。他们想了解船上是什么样的瘟疫，有多少旅客，多少病人，传染的可能性有多大。船长回答只有三名旅客，全都害霍乱，但处于严格的隔离之中。不管是应该在“黄金港”上船的人，还是二十七名船员都没与他们有过任何接触。但巡逻队长不满意，命令他们离开港湾，在拉斯?梅塞德斯沼泽地等到下午二点，同时准备办理隔离手续。船长放了一个鞭炮，打了个手势，让领航员绕了个圈子，掉转船头回沼泽地去了。

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费尔米纳和阿里萨在餐桌上听到了一切，但是船长象是满不在乎。他继续默默地吃着饭，一举一动都显得很不高兴。甚至连维护内河船长美誉的礼貌和修养都不顾了。他用刀尖划开了四个煎鸡蛋，在盘子里用油炸青香蕉片蘸着，大块大块地塞入嘴中，津津有味地嚼着。费尔米纳和阿里萨看着他，一言不发，象在学校里坐在凳子上等着宣读期末考试评分一样。在船长与卫生巡逻队对话时，他们没有作声，对自己的命运，他们一点数也没有。但两人都知道，船长在为他俩着想，这从他蹦蹦跳跳的太阳穴可以看出来。

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在船长吃光那盘鸡蛋——油炸青香蕉片和喝光那杯牛奶咖啡的同时，轮船离开了港湾。锅炉静悄悄的，船在港汉里划破水面，穿过片片浮萍，深紫色的莲花和心脏形状的大荷叶，回沼泽地去了。水面上侧身漂浮着的死鱼闪烁着光芒，那是被偷偷开船进来的渔民用炸药炸死的，陆地和水上的鸟儿在它们上空盘旋着，发出尖利的叫声。加勒比海的风随着乌儿的喧闹，从窗户中吹进来，费尔米纳感到她的血液在沸腾，并且阵阵发疼。右边，马格达莱纳河的潮淹区的水浑浊而缓慢，一直延伸到世界的另一边。

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当盘中的食物全部吃光的时候，船长用餐桌布角擦了擦嘴，用一种放肆无礼的行话打开了话匣子， 一下子把内河航运船长为人赞美的好名声彻底毁坏i。他不是为他们抱不平， 也不是为任河人，而是想发泄一下自己的怒气c在一连串粗鲁的咒骂之后，他的结论是，挂霍乱旗所陷进的困境，无论如何也难以摆脱了。

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阿里萨眼睛眨也不眨地听他说完，然后从窗户中看了看航海罗盘的刻度盘，看了看清晰透明的天际，看了看万里无云的十二月的天空以及永远能航行的河水，说：“我们一直走，一直走，一直走，再到‘黄金港’去！”

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费尔米纳震惊了，因为她听出了昔日圣灵所启发的那种声音。于是她瞅了一眼船长：他就是命运之神。但船长没有看见她，他被阿里萨冲动的巨大威力惊呆了。

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“您这话当真？”他问。

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“从我出生起。”阿里萨说，“我从来没把自己的话当过儿戏。”

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船长看了一下费尔米纳，在她的睫毛上看到了初霜的闪光。然后他又看了一眼阿里萨，看到了他那不可战胜的自制力和勇敢无畏的爱。于是，终于悟到了生命跟死亡相比，前者才是无限的这一真谛，这使船长大吃一惊。

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“您认为我们这样瞎扯淡的未来去去可以继续到何时？”他问。

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阿里萨早在五十三年七个月零十一个日日夜夜之前就准备好了答案。

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“永生永世！”他说。

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FERMINA DAZA could not have imagined that her letter, inspired by blind rage, would havebeen interpreted by Florentino Ariza as a love letter. She had put into it all the fury of which shewas capable, her crudest words, the most wounding, most unjust vilifications, which still seemedminuscule to her in light of the enormity of the offence. It was the final act in a bitter exorcismthrough which she was attempting to come to terms with her new situation. She wanted to beherself again, to recover all that she had been obliged to give up in half a century of servitude thathad doubtless made her happy but which, once her husband was dead, did not leave her even thevestiges of her identity. She was a ghost in a strange house that overnight had become immenseand solitary and through which she wandered without purpose, asking herself in anguish which ofthem was deader: the man who had died or the woman he had left behind.

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She could not avoid a profound feeling of rancour toward her husband for having left heralone in the middle of the ocean. Everything of his made her cry: his pyjamas under the pillow, hisslippers that had always looked to her like an invalid’s, the memory of his image in the back of themirror as he undressed while she combed her hair before bed, the odour of his skin, which was tolinger on hers for a long time after his death. She would stop in the middle of whatever she wasdoing and slap herself on the forehead because she suddenly remembered something she hadforgotten to tell him. At every moment countless ordinary questions would come to mind that healone could answer for her. Once he had told her something that she could not imagine: thatamputees suffer pains, cramps , itches , in the leg that is no longer there. That is how she feltwithout him, feeling his presence where he no longer was.

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When she awoke on her first morning as a widow, she turned over in bed without opening hereyes, searching for a more comfortable position so that she could continue sleeping, and that wasthe moment when he died for her. For only then did it become clear that he had spent the nightaway from home for the first time in years. The other place where this struck her was at the table,not because she felt alone, which in fact she was, but because of her strange belief that she waseating with someone who no longer existed. It was not until her daughter Ofelia came from NewOrleans with her husband and the three girls that she sat at a table again to eat, but instead of theusual one, she ordered a smaller, improvised table set up in the corridor. Until then she did nottake a regular meal. She would walk through the kitchen at any hour, whenever she was hungry,and put her fork in the pots and eat a little of everything without placing anything on a plate, standing in front of the stove, talking to the serving women, who were the only ones with whomshe felt comfortable, the ones she got along with best. Still, no matter how hard she tried, shecould not elude the presence of her dead husband: wherever she went, wherever she turned, nomatter what she was doing, she would come across something of his that would remind her ofhim. For even though it seemed only decent and right to grieve for him, she also wanted to doeverything possible not to wallow in her grief. And so she made the drastic decision to empty thehouse of everything that would remind her of her dead husband, which was the only way shecould think of to go on living without him.

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It was a ritual of eradication . Her son agreed to take his library so that she could replace hisoffice with the sewing room she had never had when she was married. And her daughter wouldtake some furniture and countless objects that she thought were just right for the antique auctionsin New Orleans. All of this was a relief for Fermina Daza, although she was not at all amused tolearn that the things she had bought on her honeymoon were now relics for antiquarians. To thesilent stupefaction of the servants, the neighbours, the women friends who came to visit her duringthat time, she had a bonfire built in a vacant lot behind the house, and there she burned everythingthat reminded her of her husband: the most expensive and elegant clothes seen in the city since thelast century, the finest shoes, the hats that resembled him more than his portraits, the siesta rockingchair from which he had arisen for the last time to die, innumerable objects so tied to her life thatby now they formed part of her identity. She did it without the shadow of a doubt, in the fullcertainty that her husband would have approved, and not only for reasons of hygiene . For he hadoften expressed his desire to be cremated and not shut away in the seamless dark of a cedar box.

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His religion would not permit it, of course: he had dared to broach the subject with theArchbishop, just in case, and his answer had been a categorical no. It was pure illusion, becausethe Church did not permit the existence of crematoriums in our cemeteries , not even for the use ofreligions other than Catholic, and the advantage of building them would not have occurred toanyone but Juvenal Urbino. Fermina Daza did not forget her husband’s terror, and even in theconfusion of the first hours she remembered to order the carpenter to leave a chink where lightcould come into the coffin as a consolation to him.

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In any event, the holocaust was in vain. In a very short while Fermina Daza realised that thememory of her dead husband was as resistant to the fire as it seemed to be to the passage of time.

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Even worse: after the incineration of his clothing, she continued to miss not only the many thingsshe had loved in him but also what had most annoyed her: the noises he made on arising. Thatmemory helped her to escape the mangrove swamps of grief. Above all else, she made the firmdecision to go on with her life, remembering her husband as if he had not died. She knew thatwaking each morning would continue to be difficult, but it would become less and less so.

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At the end of the third week, in fact, she began to see the first light. But as it grew larger andbrighter, she became aware that there was an evil phantom in her life who did not give her amoment’s peace. He was not the pitiable phantom who had haunted her in the Park of the Evangelsand whom she had evoked with a certain tenderness after she had grown old, but the hatefulphantom with his executioner’s frock coat and his hat held against his chest, whose thoughtlessimpertinence had disturbed her so much that she found it impossible not to think about him. Eversince her rejection of him at the age of eighteen, she had been convinced that she had left behind aseed of hatred in him that could only grow larger with time. She had always counted on thathatred, she had felt it in the air when the phantom was near, and the mere sight of him had upsetand frightened her so that she never found a natural way to behave with him. On the night when hereiterated his love for her, while the flowers for her dead husband were still perfuming the house,she could not believe that his insolence was not the first step in God knows what sinister plan forrevenge.

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Her persistent memory of him increased her rage. When she awoke thinking about him on theday after the funeral, she succeeded in removing him from her thoughts by a simple act of will.

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But the rage always returned, and she realised very soon that the desire to forget him was thestrongest inducement for remembering him. Then, overcome by nostalgia , she dared to recall forthe first time the illusory days of that unreal love. She tried to remember just how the little parkwas then, and the shabby almond trees, and the bench where he had loved her, because none of itstill existed as it had been then. They had changed everything, they had removed the trees withtheir carpet of yellow leaves and replaced the statue of the decapitated hero with that of another,who wore his dress uniform but had no name or dates or reasons to justify him, and who stood onan ostentatious pedestal in which they had installed the electrical controls for the district. Herhouse, sold many years before, had fallen into total ruin at the hands of the ProvincialGovernment. It was not easy for her to imagine Florentino Ariza as he had been then, much less tobelieve that the taciturn boy, so vulnerable in the rain, was the moth-eaten old wreck who hadstood in front of her with no consideration for her situation, or the slightest respect for her grief,and had seared her soul with a flaming insult that still made it difficult for her to breathe.

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Cousin Hildebranda S醤 chez had come to visit a short while after Fermina Daza returnedfrom the ranch in Flores de Mar韆, where she had gone to recuperate from the misfortune of MissLynch. Old, fat, and contented , she had arrived in the company of her oldest son who, like hisfather, had been a colonel in the army but had been repudiated by him because of his contemptiblebehaviour during the massacre of the banana workers in San Juan de la Ci閚aga. The two cousinssaw each other often and spent endless hours feeling nostalgia for the time when they first met. Onher last visit, Hildebranda was more nostalgic than ever, and very affected by the burden of oldage. In order to add even greater poignancy to their memories, she had brought her copy of theportrait of them dressed as old-fashioned ladies, taken by the Belgian photographer on theafternoon that a young Juvenal Urbino had delivered the coup de grace to a willful Fermina Daza.

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Her copy of the photograph had been lost, and Hildebranda’s was almost invisible, but they couldboth recognise themselves through the mists of disenchantment: young and beautiful as theywould never be again.

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For Hildebranda it was impossible not to speak of Florentino Ariza, because she alwaysidentified his fate with her own. She evoked him as she evoked the day she had sent her firsttelegram, and she could never erase from her heart the memory of the sad little bird condemned tooblivion. For her part, Fermina had often seen him without speaking to him, of course, and shecould not imagine that he had been her first love. She always heard news about him, as sooner orlater she heard news about anyone of any significance in the city. It was said that he had notmarried because of his unusual habits, but she paid no attention to this, in part because she neverpaid attention to rumours , and in part because such things were said in any event about men whowere above suspicion. On the other hand, it seemed strange to her that Florentino Ariza wouldpersist in his mystic attire and his rare lotions , and that he would continue to be so enigmatic aftermaking his way in life in so spectacular and honourable a manner. It was impossible for her tobelieve he was the same person, and she was always surprised when Hildebranda would sigh:

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"Poor man, how he must have suffered!" For she had seen him without grief for a long time: ashadow that had been obliterated .

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Nevertheless, on the night she met him in the movie theatre just after her return from Floresde Mar韆, something strange occurred in her heart. She was not surprised that he was with awoman, and a black woman at that. What did surprise her was that he was so well preserved, thathe behaved with the greatest self-assurance, and it did not occur to her that perhaps it was she, nothe, who had changed after the troubling explosion of Miss Lynch in her private life. From then on,and for more than twenty years, she saw him with more compassionate eyes. On the night of thevigil for her husband, it not only seemed reasonable for him to be there, but she even understood itas the natural end of rancour: an act of forgiving and forgetting. That was why she was so takenaback by his dramatic reiteration of a love that for her had never existed, at an age whenFlorentino Ariza and she could expect nothing more from life.

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The mortal rage of the first shock remained intact after the symbolic cremation of herhusband, and it grew and spread as she felt herself less capable of controlling it. Even worse: thespaces in her mind where she managed to appease her memories of the dead man were slowly butinexorably being taken over by the field of poppies where she had buried her memories ofFlorentino Ariza. And so she thought about him without wanting to, and the more she thoughtabout him the angrier she became, and the angrier she became the more she thought about him,until it was something so unbearable that her mind could no longer contain it. Then she sat downat her dead husband’s desk and wrote Florentino Ariza a letter consisting of three irrational pagesso full of insults and base provocations that it brought her the consolation of consciouslycommitting the vilest act of her long life.

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Those weeks had been agonising for Florentino Ariza as well. The night he reiterated his loveto Fermina Daza he had wandered aimlessly through streets that had been devastated by theafternoon flood, asking himself in terror what he was going to do with the skin of the tiger he hadjust killed after having resisted its attacks for more than half a century. The city was in a state ofemergency because of the violent rains. In some houses, half-naked men and women were tryingto salvage whatever God willed from the flood, and Florentino Ariza had the impression thateveryone’s calamity had something to do with his own. But the wind was calm and the stars of theCaribbean were quiet in their places. In the sudden silence of other voices, Florentino Arizarecognised the voice of the man whom Leona Cassiani and he had heard singing many yearsbefore, at the same hour and on the same corner: I came back from the bridge bathed in tears. Asong that in some way, on that night, for him alone, had something to do with death.

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He needed Tr醤 sito Ariza then as he never had before, he needed her wise words, her headof a mock queen adorned with paper flowers. He could not avoid it: whenever he found himself onthe edge of catastrophe , he needed the help of a woman. So that he passed by the Normal School,seeking out those who were within reach, and he saw a light in the long row of windows in Am閞ica Vicu帽 a’s dormitory. He had to make a great effort not to fall into the grandfather’s madnessof carrying her off at two o’clock in the morning, warm with sleep in her swaddling clothes andstill smelling of the cradle’s tantrums.

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At the other end of the city was Leona Cassiani, alone and free and doubtless ready toprovide him with the compassion he needed at two o’clock in the morning, at three o’clock, at anyhour and under any circumstances. It would not be the first time he had knocked at her door in thewasteland of his sleepless nights, but he knew that she was too intelligent, and that they lovedeach other too much, for him to come crying to her lap and not tell her the reason. After a gooddeal of thought as he sleepwalked through the deserted city, it occurred to him that he could do nobetter than Prudencia Pitre, the Widow of Two, who was younger than he. They had first met inthe last century, and if they stopped meeting it was because she refused to allow anyone to see heras she was, half blind and verging on decrepitude . As soon as he thought of her, Florentino Arizareturned to the Street of the Windows, put two bottles of port and a jar of pickles in a shoppingbag, and went to visit her, not even knowing if she was still in her old house, if she was alone, or ifshe was alive.

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Prudencia Pitre had not forgotten his scratching signal at the door, the one he had used toidentify himself when they thought they were still young although they no longer were, and sheopened the door without any questions. The street was dark, he was barely visible in his black suit,his stiff hat, and his bat’s umbrella hanging over his arm, and her eyes were too weak to see himexcept in full light, but she recognised him by the gleam of the streetlamp on the metal frame ofhis eyeglasses. He looked like a murderer with blood still on his hands.

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" Sanctuary for a poor orphan," he said.

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It was the only thing he could think of to say, just to say something. He was surprised at howmuch she had aged since the last time he saw her, and he was aware that she saw him the sameway. But he consoled himself by thinking that in a moment, when they had both recovered fromthe initial shock, they would notice fewer and fewer of the blows that life had dealt the other, andthey would again seem as young as they had been when they first met.

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"You look as if you are going to a funeral," she said.

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It was true. She, along with almost the entire city, had been at the window since eleveno’clock, watching the largest and most sumptuous funeral procession that had been seen here sincethe death of Archbishop De Luna. She had been awakened from her siesta by the thunderingartillery that made the earth tremble, by the dissonances of the marching bands, the confusion offuneral hymns over the clamouring bells in all the churches, which had been ringing without pausesince the previous day. From her balcony she had seen the cavalry in dress uniform, the religiouscommunities, the schools, the long black limousines of an invisible officialdom, the carriagedrawn by horses in feathered headdresses and gold trappings, the flag-draped yellow coffin on thegun carriage of a historic cannon , and at the very end a line of old open Victorias that keptthemselves alive in order to carry funeral wreaths. As soon as they had passed by Prudencia Pitre’sbalcony, a little after midday, the deluge came and the funeral procession dispersed in a wildstampede.

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"What an absurd way to die," she said.

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"Death has no sense of the ridiculous," he said, and added in sorrow: "above all at our age."They were seated on the terrace, facing the open sea, looking at the ringed moon that took uphalf the sky, looking at the coloured lights of the boats along the horizon, enjoying the mild,perfumed breeze after the storm. They drank port and ate pickles on slices of country bread thatPrudencia Pitre cut from a loaf in the kitchen. They had spent many nights like this after she hadbeen left a widow without children. Florentino Ariza had met her at a time when she would havereceived any man who wanted to be with her, even if he were hired by the hour, and they hadestablished a relationship that was more serious and longer-lived than would have seemedpossible.

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Although she never even hinted at it, she would have sold her soul to the devil to marry him.

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She knew that it would not be easy to submit to his miserliness, or the foolishness of his prematureappearance of age, or his maniacal sense of order, or his eagerness to ask for everything and givenothing at all in return, but despite all this, no man was better company because no other man inthe world was so in need of love. But no other man was as elusive either, so that their love neverwent beyond the point it always reached for him: the point where it would not interfere with hisdetermination to remain free for Fermina Daza. Nevertheless, it lasted many years, even after hehad arranged for Prudencia Pitre to marry a salesman who was home for three months andtravelled for the next three and with whom she had a daughter and four sons, one of whom, sheswore, was Florentino Ariza’s.

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They talked, not concerned about the hour, because both were accustomed to sharing thesleepless nights of their youth, and they had much less to lose in the sleeplessness of old age.

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Although he almost never had more than two glasses of wine, Florentino Ariza still had not caughthis breath after the third. He was dripping with perspiration , and the Widow of Two told him totake off his jacket, his vest, his trousers, to take off everything if he liked, what the hell: after all,they knew each other better naked than dressed. He said he would if she did the same, but sherefused: some time ago she had looked at herself in the wardrobe mirror and suddenly realised thatshe would no longer have the courage to allow anyone--not him, not anyone--to see her undressed.

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Florentino Ariza, in a state of agitation that he could not calm with four glasses of port, talkedat length about the same subject: the past, the good memories from the past, for he was desperateto find the hidden road in the past that would bring him relief. For that was what he needed: to lethis soul escape through his mouth. When he saw the first light of dawn on the horizon, heattempted an indirect approach. He asked, in a way that seemed casual: "What would you do ifsomeone proposed marriage to you, just as you are, a widow of your age?" She laughed with awrinkled old woman’s laugh, and asked in turn: "Are you speaking of the Widow Urbino?"Florentino Ariza always forgot when he should not have that women, and Prudencia Pitremore than any other, always think about the hidden meanings of questions more than about thequestions themselves. Filled with sudden terror because of her chilling marksmanship, he slippedthrough the back door: "I am speaking of you." She laughed again: "Go make fun of your bitch ofa mother, may she rest in peace." Then she urged him to say what he meant to say, because sheknew that he, or any other man, would not have awakened her at three o’clock in the morning afterso many years of not seeing her just to drink port and eat country bread with pickles. She said:

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"You do that only "when you are looking for someone to cry with." Florentino Ariza withdrew indefeat.

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"For once you are wrong," he said. "My reasons tonight have more to do with singing.""Let’s sing, then," she said.

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And she began to sing, in a very good voice, the song that was popular then: Ramona, Icannot live without you. The night was over, for he did not dare to play forbidden games with awoman who had proven too many times that she knew the dark side of the moon. He walked outinto a different city, one that was perfumed by the last dahlias of June, and onto a street out of hisyouth, where the shadowy widows from five o’clock Mass were filing by. But now it was he, notthey, who crossed the street, so they would not see the tears he could no longer hold back, not hismidnight tears, as he thought, but other tears: the ones he had been swallowing for fifty-one years,nine months and four days.

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He had lost all track of time, and did not know where he was when he awoke facing a large,dazzling window. The voice of Am閞 ica Vicu帽 a playing ball in the garden with the servantgirls brought him back to reality: he was in his mother’s bed. He had kept her bedroom intact, andhe would sleep there to feel less alone on the few occasions when he was troubled by his solitude .

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Across from the bed hung the large mirror from Don Sancho’s Inn, and he had only to see it whenhe awoke to see Fermina Daza reflected in its depths. He knew that it was Saturday, because thatwas the day the chauffeur picked up Am閞 ica Vicu帽 a at her boarding school and brought herback to his house. He realised that he had slept without knowing it, dreaming that he could notsleep, in a dream that had been disturbed by the wrathful face of Fermina Daza. He bathed,wondering what his next step should be, he dressed very slowly in his best clothing, he dabbed oncologne and waxed the ends of his white moustache, he left the bedroom, and from the second-floor hallway he saw the beautiful child in her uniform catching the ball with the grace that hadmade him tremble on so many Saturdays but this morning did not disquiet him in the least. Heindicated that she should come with him, and before he climbed into the automobile he said,although it was not necessary: "Today we are not going to do our things." He took her to theAmerican Ice Cream Shop, filled at this hour with parents eating ice cream with their childrenunder the long blades of the fans that hung from the smooth ceiling. Am閞 ica Vicu帽 a orderedan enormous glass filled with layers of ice cream, each a different colour, her favourite dish andthe one that was the most popular because it gave off an aura of magic. Florentino Ariza drankblack coffee and looked at the girl without speaking, while she ate the ice cream with a spoon thathad a very long handle so that one could reach the bottom of the glass. Still looking at her, he saidwithout warning: "I am going to marry."She looked into his eyes with a flash of uncertainty , her spoon suspended in midair, but thenshe recovered and smiled.

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"That’s a lie," she said. "Old men don’t marry."That afternoon he left her at her school under a steady downpour just as the Angelus wasringing, after the two of them had watched the puppet show in the park, had lunch at the fried-fishstands on the jetties, seen the caged animals in the circus that had just come to town, bought allkinds of candies at the outdoor stalls to take back to school, and driven around the city severaltimes with the top down, so that she could become accustomed to the idea that he was herguardian and no longer her lover. On Sunday he sent the automobile for her in the event shewanted to take a drive with her friends, but he did not want to see her, because since the previousweek he had come to full consciousness of both their ages. That night he decided to write a letterof apology to Fermina Daza, its only purpose to show that he had not given up, but he put it offuntil the next day. On Monday, after exactly three weeks of agony, he walked into his house,soaked by the rain, and found her letter.

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It was eight o’clock at night. The two servant girls were in bed, and they had left on the lightin the hallway that lit Florentino Ariza’s way to his bedroom. He knew that his Spartan , blandsupper was on the table in the dining room, but the slight hunger he felt after so many days ofhaphazard eating vanished with the emotional upheaval of the letter. His hands were shaking somuch that it was difficult for him to turn on the overhead light in the bedroom. He put the rain-soaked letter on the bed, lit the lamp on the night table, and with the feigned tranquillity

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that washis customary way of calming himself, he took off his wet jacket and hung it on the back of thechair, he took off his vest, folded it with care, and placed it on top of the jacket, he took off hisblack silk string tie and the celluloid collar that was no longer fashionable in the world, heunbuttoned his shirt down to his waist and loosened his belt so that he could breathe with greaterease, and at last he took off his hat and put it by the window to dry. Then he began to tremblebecause he did not know where the letter was, and his nervous excitement was so great that he wassurprised when he found it, for he did not remember placing it on the bed. Before opening it, hedried the envelope with his handkerchief, taking care not to smear the ink in which his name waswritten, and as he did so it occurred to him that the secret was no longer shared by two people butby three, at least, for whoever had delivered it must have noticed that only three weeks after thedeath of her husband, the Widow Urbino was writing to someone who did not belong to her world,and with so much urgency that she did not use the regular mails and so much secretiveness thatshe had ordered that it not be handed to anyone but slipped under the door instead, as if it were ananonymous letter. He did not have to tear open the envelope, for the water had dissolved the glue,but the letter was dry: three closely written pages with no salutation, and signed with the initials ofher married name.

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He sat on the bed and read it through once as quickly as he could, more intrigued by the tonethan by the content, and before he reached the second page he knew that it was in fact the insultingletter he had expected to receive. He laid it, unfolded, in the light shed by the bed-lamp, he tookoff his shoes and his wet socks, he turned out the overhead light, using the switch next to the door,and at last he put on his chamois moustache cover and lay down without removing his trousersand shirt, his head supported by two large pillows that he used as a backrest for reading. Now heread it again, this time syllable by syllable, scrutinising each so that none of the letter’s secretintentions would be hidden from him, and then he read it four more times, until he was so full ofthe written words that they began to lose all meaning. At last he placed it, without the envelope, inthe drawer of the night table, lay on his back with his hands behind his head, and for four hours hedid not blink, he hardly breathed, he was more dead than a dead man, as he stared into the space inthe mirror where she had been.

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Precisely at midnight he went to the kitchen and prepared athermos of coffee as thick as crude oil, then he took it to his room, put his false teeth into the glassof boric acid solution that he always found ready for him on the night table, and resumed theposture of a recumbent marble statue, with momentary shifts in position when he took a sip ofcoffee, until the maid came in at six o’clock with a fresh thermos

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Florentino Ariza knew by then what one of his next steps was going to be. In truth, the insultscaused him no pain, and he was not concerned with rectifying the unjust accusations that couldhave been worse, considering Fermina Daza’s character and the gravity of the cause. All thatinterested him was that the letter, in and of itself, gave him the opportunity, and even recognisedhis right, to respond. Even more: it demanded that he respond. So that life was now at the pointwhere he had wanted it to be. Everything else depended on him, and he was convinced that hisprivate hell of over half a century’s duration would still present him with many mortal challenges,which he was prepared to confront with more ardour and more sorrow and more love than he hadbrought to any of them before now, because these would be the last.

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When he went to his office five days after receiving the letter from Fermina Daza, he felt as ifhe were floating in an abrupt and unusual absence of the noise of the typewriters, whose sound,like rain, had become less noticeable than silence. It was a moment of calm. When the soundbegan again, Florentino Ariza went to Leona Cas-siani’s office and watched her as she sat in frontof her own personal typewriter, which responded to her fingertips as if it were human. She knewshe was being observed, and she looked toward the door with her awesome solar smile, but shedid not stop typing until the end of the paragraph.

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"Tell me something, lionlady of my soul," asked Florentino Ariza. "How would you feel ifyou received a love letter written on that thing?"Her expression--she who was no longer surprised at anything--was one of genuine surprise.

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"My God, man!" she exclaimed. "It never occurred to me."For that very reason she could make no other reply. Florentino Ariza had not thought of iteither until that moment, and he decided to risk it with no reservations. He took one of the officetypewriters home, his subordinates joking good-naturedly: "You can’t teach an old dog newtricks." Leona Cassiani, enthusiastic about anything new, offered to give him typing lessons athome. But he had been opposed to methodical learning ever since Lotario Thugut had wanted toteach him to play the violin by reading notes and warned him that he would need at least a year tobegin, five more to qualify for a professional orchestra, and six hours a day for the rest of his lifein order to play well. And yet he had convinced his mother to buy him a blind man’s violin, andwith the five basic rules given him by Lotario Thugut, in less than a year he had dared to play inthe choir of the Cathedral and to serenade Fermina Daza from the paupers

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cemetery according tothe direction of the winds. If that had been the case at the age of twenty, with something asdifficult as the violin, he did not see why it could not also be the case at the age of seventy-six,with a one-finger instrument like the typewriter.

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He was right. He needed three days to learn the position of the letters on the keyboard,another six to learn to think while he typed, and three more to complete the first letter withouterrors after tearing up half a ream of paper. He gave it a solemn salutation--Se帽 ora--and signedit with his initial, as he had done in the perfumed love letters of his youth. He mailed it in anenvelope with the mourning vignettes that were de rigueur for a letter to a recent widow, and withno return address on the back.

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It was a six-page letter, unlike any he had ever written before. It did not have the tone, or thestyle, or the rhetorical air of his early years of love, and his argument was so rational andmeasured that the scent of a gardenia would have been out of place. In a certain sense it was hisclosest approximation to the business letters he had never been able to write. Years later, a typedpersonal letter would be considered almost an insult, but at that time the typewriter was still anoffice animal without its own code of ethics , and its domestication for personal use was notforeseen in the books on etiquette

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. It seemed more like bold modernity, which was how FerminaDaza must have understood it, for in her second letter to Florentino Ariza, she began by begginghis pardon for any difficulties in reading her handwriting, since she did not have at her disposalany means more advanced than her steel pen.

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Florentino Ariza did not even refer to the terrible letter that she had sent him, but from thevery beginning he attempted a new method of seduction, without any reference to past loves oreven to the past itself: a clean slate

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. Instead, he wrote an extensive meditation on life based on hisideas about, and experience of, relations between men and women, which at one time he hadintended to write as a complement to the Lovers’ Companion. Only now he disguised it in thepatriarchal style of an old man’s memories so that it would not be too obvious that it was really adocument of love. First he wrote many draughts in his old style, which took longer to read with acool head than to throw into the fire. But he knew that any conventional slip, the slightestnostalgic indiscretion, could revive the unpleasant taste of the past in her heart, and although heforesaw her returning a hundred letters to him before she dared open the first, he preferred that itnot happen even once. And so he planned everything down to the last detail, as if it were the finalbattle: new intrigues , new hopes in a woman who had already lived a full and complete life. It hadto be a mad dream, one that would give her the courage she would need to discard the prejudicesof a class that had not always been hers but had become hers more than anyone’s. It had to teachher to think of love as a state of grace: not the means to anything but the alpha and omega, an endin itself.

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He had the good sense not to expect an immediate reply, to be satisfied if the letter was notreturned to him. It was not, nor were any of the ones that followed, and as the days passed, hisexcitement grew, for the more days that passed without her letters being returned, the greater hishope of a reply. In the beginning, the frequency of his letters was conditioned by the dexterity ofhis fingers: first one a week, then two, and at last one a day. He was happy about the progressmade in the mail service since his days as a standard-bearer, for he would not have risked beingseen every day in the post office mailing a letter to the same person, or sending it with someonewho might talk. On the other hand, it was very easy to send an employee to buy enough stamps fora month, and then slip the letter into one of the three mailboxes located in the old city. He soonmade that ritual a part of his routine: he took advantage of his insomnia to write, and the next day,on his way to the office, he -would ask the driver to stop for a moment at a corner box, and hewould get out to mail the letter. He never allowed the chauffeur to do it for him, as he attempted todo one rainy morning, and at times he took the precaution of carrying several letters rather thanjust one, so that it would seem more natural. The chauffeur did not know, of course, that theadditional letters were blank pages that Florentino Ariza addressed to himself, for he had nevercarried on a private correspondence with anyone, with the exception of the guardian’s report thathe sent at the end of each month to the parents of Am閞 ica Vicu帽 a, with his personalimpressions of the girl’s conduct, her state of mind and health, and the progress she was making inher studies.

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After the first month he began to number the letters and to head them with a synopsis of theprevious ones, as in the serialised novels in the newspapers, for fear that Fermina Daza would notrealise that they had a certain continuity. When they became daily letters, moreover, he replacedthe envelopes that had mourning vignettes with long white envelopes, and this gave them theadded impersonality of business letters. When he began, he was prepared to subject his patience toa crucial test, at least until he had proof that he was wasting his time with the only new approachhe could think of. He waited, in fact, not with the many kinds of suffering that waiting had causedhim in his youth, but with the stubbornness of an old man made of stone who had nothing else tothink about, nothing else to do in a riverboat company that by this time was sailing without hishelp before favourable winds, and who was also convinced that he would be alive and in perfectpossession of his male faculties the next day, or the day after that, or whenever Fermina Daza atlast was convinced that there was no other remedy for her solitary widow’s yearnings than tolower the drawbridge for him.

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Meanwhile, he continued with his normal life. In anticipation of a favourable reply, he begana second renovation of his house so that it would be worthy of the woman who could haveconsidered herself its lady and mistress from the day of its purchase. He visited Prudencia Pitreagain several times, as he had promised, in order to prove to her that he loved her despite thedevastation wrought by age, loved her in full sunlight and with the doors open, and not only on hisnights of desolation. He continued to pass by Andrea Var贸n’s house until he found the bathroomlight turned off, and he tried to lose himself in the wildness of her bed even though it was only sohe would not lose the habit of love, in keeping with another of his superstitions , not disproved sofar, that the body carries on for as long as you do.

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His relations with Am閞 ica Vicu帽 a were the only difficulty. He had repeated the order tohis chauffeur to pick her up on Saturdays at ten o’clock in the morning at the school, but he did notknow what to do with her during the weekends. For the first time he did not concern himself withher, and she resented the change. He placed her in the care of the servant girls and had them takeher to the afternoon film, to the band concerts in the children’s park, to the charity bazaars , or hearranged Sunday activities for her and her classmates so that he would not have to take her to thehidden paradise behind his offices, to which she had always wanted to return after the first time hetook her there. In the fog of his new illusion, he did not realise that women can become adults inthree days, and that three years had gone by since he had met her boat from Puerto Padre. Nomatter how he tried to soften the blow, it was a brutal change for her, and she could not imaginethe reason for it. On the day in the ice cream parlour when he told her he was going to marry,when he revealed the truth to her, she had reeled with panic, but then the possibility seemed soabsurd that she forgot about it. In a very short while, however, she realised that he was behavingwith inexplicable evasiveness, as if it was true, as if he were not sixty years older than she, butsixty years younger.

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One Saturday afternoon, Florentino Ariza found her trying to type in his bedroom, and shewas doing rather well, for she was studying typing at school. She had completed more than half apage of automatic writing, but it was not difficult to isolate an occasional phrase that revealed herstate of mind. Florentino Ariza leaned over her shoulder to read what she had written. She wasdisturbed by his man’s heat, by his ragged breathing, by the scent on his clothes, which was thesame as the scent on his pillow. She was no longer the little girl, the newcomer, whom he hadundressed, one article of clothing at a time, with little baby games: first these little shoes for thelittle baby bear, then this little chemise for the little puppy dog, next these little flowered pantiesfor the little bunny rabbit, and a little kiss on her papa’s delicious little dickey-bird. No: now shewas a full-fledged woman, who liked to take the initiative. She continued typing with just onefinger of her right hand, and with her left she felt for his leg, explored him, found him, felt himcome to life, grow, heard him sigh with excitement, and his old man’s breathing became unevenand laboured. She knew him: from that point on he was going to lose control, his speech wouldbecome disjointed, he would be at her mercy, and he would not find his way back until he hadreached the end. She led him by the hand to the bed as if he were a blind beggar on the street, andshe cut him into pieces with malicious tenderness; she added salt to taste, pepper, a clove of garlic,chopped onion, lemon juice, bay leaf, until he was seasoned and on the platter, and the oven washeated to the right temperature. There was no one in the house. The servant girls had gone out, andthe masons and carpenters who were renovating the house did not work on Saturdays: they had thewhole world to themselves. But on the edge of the abyss he came out of his ecstasy

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, moved herhand away, sat up, and said in a tremulous voice: "Be careful, we have no rubbers."She lay on her back in bed for a long time, thinking, and when she returned to school an hourearly she was beyond all desire to cry, and she had sharpened her sense of smell along with herclaws so that she could track down the miserable whore who had ruined her life. Florentino Ariza,on the other hand, made another masculine mis-judgment: he believed that she had beenconvinced of the futility of her desires and had resolved to forget him.

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He was back in his element. At the end of six months he had heard nothing at all, and hefound himself tossing and turning in bed until dawn, lost in the wasteland of a new kind ofinsomnia. He thought that Fermina Daza had opened the first letter because of its appearance, hadseen the initial she knew from the letters of long ago, and had thrown it out to be burned with therest of the trash without even taking the trouble to tear it up. Just seeing the envelopes of those thatfollowed would be enough for her to do the same thing without even opening them, and tocontinue to do so until the end of time, while he came at last to his final written meditation. He didnot believe that the woman existed who could resist her curiosity about half a year of almost dailyletters when she did not even know the colour of ink they were written in, but if such a womanexisted, it had to be her.

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Florentino Ariza felt that his old age was not a rushing torrent but a bottomless cistern wherehis memory drained away. His ingenuity was wearing thin. After patrolling the villa in La Mangafor several days, he realised that this strategy from his youth would never break down the doorssealed by mourning. One morning, as he was looking for a number in the telephone directory, hehappened to come across hers. He called. It rang many times, and at last he recognised her grave,husky voice: "Hello?" He hung up without speaking, but the infinite distance of thatunapproachable voice weakened his morale

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It was at this time that Leona Cassiani celebrated her birthday and invited a small group offriends to her house. He was distracted and spilled chicken gravy on himself. She cleaned his lapelwith the corner of his napkin dampened in a glass of water, and then she tied it around his necklike a bib to avoid a more serious accident: he looked like an old baby. She noticed that severaltimes during dinner he took off his eyeglasses and dried them with his handkerchief because hiseyes were watering. During coffee he fell asleep holding his cup in his hand, and she tried to takeit away without waking him, but his embarrassed response was: "I was just resting my eyes."Leona Cassiani went to bed astounded at how his age was beginning to show.

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On the first anniversary of the death of Juvenal Urbino, the family sent out invitations to amemorial Mass at the Cathedral. Florentino Ariza had still received no reply, and this was thedriving force behind his bold decision to attend the Mass although he had not been invited. It wasa social event more ostentatious than emotional. The first few rows of pews were reserved fortheir lifetime owners, whose names were engraved on copper nameplates on the backs of theirseats. Florentino Ariza was among the first to arrive so that he might sit where Fermina Dazacould not pass by without seeing him. He thought that the best seats would be in the central nave ,behind the reserved pews, but there were so many people he could not find a seat there either, andhe had to sit in the nave for poor relations. From there he saw Fermina Daza walk in on her son’sarm, dressed in an unadorned long-sleeved black velvet dress buttoned all the way from her neckto the tips of her shoes, like a bishop’s cassock, and a narrow scarf of Castilian lace instead of theveiled hat worn by other widows, and even by many other ladies who longed for that condition.

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Her uncovered face shone like alabaster , her lanceolate eyes had a life of their own under theenormous chandeliers of the central nave, and as she walked she was so erect , so haughty , so selfpossessed, that she seemed no older than her son. As he stood, Florentino Ariza leaned the tips ofhis fingers against the back of the pew until his dizziness passed, for he felt that he and she werenot separated by seven paces, but existed in two different times.

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Through almost the entire ceremony, Fermina Daza stood in the family pew in front of themain altar, as elegant as when she attended the opera. But when it was over, she broke withconvention and did not stay in her seat, according to the custom of the day, to receive the spiritualrenewal of condolences, but made her way instead through the crowd to thank each one of theguests: an innovative gesture that was very much in harmony with her style and character.

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Greeting one guest after another, she at last reached the pews of the poor relations, and then shelooked around to make certain she had not missed anyone she knew. At that moment FlorentinoAriza felt a supernatural wind lifting him out of himself: she had seen him. Fermina Daza movedaway from her companions with the same assurance she brought to everything in society, held outher hand, and with a very sweet smile, said to him: "Thank you for coming."For she had not only received his letters, she had read them with great interest and had foundin them serious and thoughtful reasons to go on living. She had been at the table, having breakfastwith her daughter, when she received the first one. She opened it because of the novelty of itsbeing typewritten, and a sudden blush burned her face when she recognised the initial of thesignature. But she immediately regained her self-possession and put the letter in her apron pocket.

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She said: "It is a condolence letter from the government." Her daughter was surprised: "All ofthem came already." She was imperturbable : "This is another one." Her intention was to burn theletter later, when she was away from her daughter’s questions, but she could not resist thetemptation of looking it over first. She expected the reply that her insulting letter deserved, a letterthat she began to regret the very moment she sent it, but from the majestic salutation and thesubject of the first paragraph, she realised that something had changed in the world. She was sointrigued that she locked herself in her bedroom to read it at her ease before she burned it, and sheread it three times without pausing.

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It was a meditation on life, love, old age, death: ideas that had often fluttered around her headlike nocturnal birds but dissolved into a trickle of feathers when she tried to catch hold of them.

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There they were, precise, simple, just as she would have liked to say them, and once again shegrieved that her husband was not alive to discuss them with her as they used to discuss certainevents of the day before going to sleep. In this way an unknown Florentino Ariza was revealed toher, one possessed of a clear-sightedness that in no way corresponded to the feverish love lettersof his youth or to the sombre conduct of his entire life. They were, rather, the words of a man who,in the opinion of Aunt Escol醩 tica, was inspired by the Holy Spirit, and this thought astoundedher now as much as it had the first time. In any case, what most calmed her spirit was the certaintythat this letter from a wise old man was not an attempt to repeat the impertinence of the night ofthe vigil over the body but a very noble way of erasing the past.

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The letters that followed brought her complete calm. Still, she burned them after readingthem with a growing interest, although burning them left her with a sense of guilt that she couldnot dissipate. So that when they began to be numbered, she found the moral justification she hadbeen seeking for not destroying them. At any rate, her initial intention was not to keep them forherself but to wait for an opportunity to return them to Florentino Ariza so that something thatseemed of such great human value would not be lost. The difficulty was that time passed and theletters continued to arrive, one every three or four days throughout the year, and she did not knowhow to return them without that appearing to be the rebuff she no longer wanted to give, andwithout having to explain everything in a letter that her pride would not permit her to write.

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That first year had been enough time for her to adjust to her widowhood. The purifiedmemory of her husband, no longer an obstacle in her daily actions, in her private thoughts, in hersimplest intentions, became a watchful presence that guided but did not hinder her. On theoccasions when she truly needed him she would see him, not as an apparition but as flesh andblood. She was encouraged by the certainty that he was there, still alive but without his masculinewhims, his patriarchal demands, his consuming need for her to love him in the same ritual ofinopportune kisses and tender words with which he loved her. For now she understood him betterthan when he was alive, she understood the yearning of his love, the urgent need he felt to find inher the security that seemed to be the mainstay of his public life and that in reality he neverpossessed. One day, at the height of desperation, she had shouted at him: "You don’t understandhow unhappy I am." Unperturbed, he took off his eyeglasses with a characteristic gesture, heflooded her with the transparent waters of his childlike eyes, and in a single phrase he burdenedher with the weight of his unbearable wisdom: "Always remember that the most important thing ina good marriage is not happiness, but stability." With the first loneliness of her widowhood shehad understood that the phrase did not conceal the miserable threat that she had attributed to it atthe time, but was the lodestone that had given them both so many happy hours.

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On her many journeys through the world, Fermina Daza had bought every object thatattracted her attention because of its novelty. She desired these things with a primitive impulse thather husband was happy to rationalise, and they were beautiful, useful objects as long as theyremained in their original environment, in the show windows of Rome, Paris, London, or in theNew York, vibrating to the Charleston, where skyscrapers were beginning to grow, but they couldnot withstand the test of Strauss waltzes with pork cracklings or Poetic Festivals when it wasninety degrees in the shade. And so she would return with half a dozen enormous standing trunksmade of polished metal, with copper locks and corners like decorated coffins , lady and mistress ofthe world’s latest marvels , which were worth their price not in gold but in the fleeting

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momentwhen someone from her local world would see them for the first time. For that is why they hadbeen bought: so that others could see them. She became aware of her frivolous public image longbefore she began to grow old, and in the house she was often heard to say: "We have to get rid ofall these trinkets; there’s no room to turn around." Dr. Urbino would laugh at her fruitless efforts,for he knew that the emptied spaces were only going to be filled again. But she persisted, becauseit was true that there was no room for anything else and nothing anywhere served any purpose, notthe shirts hanging on the doorknobs or the overcoats for European winters squeezed into thekitchen cupboards. So that on a morning when she awoke in high spirits she would raze theclothes closets, empty the trunks, tear apart the attics , and wage a war of separation against thepiles of clothing that had been seen once too often, the hats she had never worn because there hadbeen no occasion to wear them while they were still in fashion, the shoes copied by Europeanartists from those used by empresses for their coronations, and which were scorned here byhighborn ladies because they were identical to the ones that black women bought at the market towear in the house. For the entire morning the interior terrace would be in a state of crisis, and inthe house it would be difficult to breathe because of bitter gusts from the mothballs. But in a fewhours order would be reestablished because she at last took pity on so much silk strewn on thefloor, so many leftover brocades and useless pieces of passementerie, so many silver fox tails, allcondemned to the fire.

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"It is a sin to burn this," she would say, "when so many people do not even have enough toeat."And so the burning was postponed , it was always postponed, and things were only shiftedfrom their places of privilege to the stables that had been transformed into storage bins forremnants, while the spaces that had been cleared, just as he predicted, began to fill up again, tooverflow with things that lived for a moment and then went to die in the closets: until the nexttime. She would say: "Someone should invent something to do with things you cannot useanymore but that you still cannot throw out." That was true: she was dismayed by the voracitywith which objects kept invading living spaces, displacing the humans, forcing them back into thecorners, until Fermina Daza pushed the objects out of sight. For she was not as ordered as peoplethought, but she did have her own desperate method for appearing to be so: she hid the disorder

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The day that Juvenal Urbino died, they had to empty out half of his study and pile the things in thebedrooms so there would be space to lay out the body.

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Death’s passage through the house brought the solution. Once she had burned her husband’sclothes, Fermina Daza realised that her hand had not trembled, and on the same impulse shecontinued to light the fire at regular intervals , throwing everything on it, old and new, not thinkingabout the envy of the rich or the vengeance of the poor who were dying of hunger. Finally, she hadthe mango tree cut back at the roots until there was nothing left of that misfortune, and she gavethe live parrot to the new Museum of the City. Only then did she draw a free breath in the kind ofhouse she had always dreamed of: large, easy, and all hers.

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Her daughter Ofelia spent three months with her and then returned to New Orleans. Her sonbrought his family to lunch on Sundays and as often as he could during the week. Fermina Daza’sclosest friends began to visit her once she had overcome the crisis of her mourning, they playedcards facing the bare patio , they tried out new recipes, they brought her up to date on the secretlife of the insatiable world that continued to exist without her. One of the most faithful wasLucrecia del Real del Obispo, an aristocrat of the old school who had always been a good friendand who drew even closer after the death of Juvenal Urbino. Stiff with arthritis and repenting herwayward life, in those days Lucrecia del Real not only provided her with the best company, shealso consulted with her regarding the civic and secular

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projects that were being arranged in thecity, and this made her feel useful for her own sake and not because of the protective shadow ofher husband. And yet she was never so closely identified with him as she was then, for she was nolonger called by her maiden name, and she became known as the Widow Urbino.

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It seemed incredible, but as the first anniversary of her husband’s death approached, FerminaDaza felt herself entering a place that was shady, cool, quiet: the grove of the irremediable. Shewas not yet aware, and would not be for several months, of how much the written meditations ofFlorentino Ariza had helped her to recover her peace of mind.

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Applied to her own experiences,they were what allowed her to understand her own life and to await the designs of old age withserenity. Their meeting at the memorial Mass was a providential opportunity for her to letFlorentino Ariza know that she, too, thanks to his letters of encouragement, was prepared to erasethe past.

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Two days later she received a different kind of letter from him: handwritten on linen paperand his complete name inscribed with great clarity on the back of the envelope. It was the sameornate handwriting as in his earlier letters, the same will to lyricism, but applied to a simpleparagraph of gratitude for the courtesy of her greeting in the Cathedral. For several days after sheread the letter Fermina Daza continued to think about it with troubled memories, but with aconscience so clear that on the following Thursday she suddenly asked Lucrecia del Real delObispo if she happened to know Florentino Ariza, the, owner of the riverboats. Lucrecia repliedthat she did: "He seems to be a wandering succubus." She repeated the common gossip that he hadnever had a woman although he was such a good catch, and that he had a secret office where hetook the boys he pursued at night along the docks. Fermina Daza had heard that story for as longas she could remember, and she had never believed it or given it any importance. But when sheheard it repeated with so much conviction by Lucrecia del Real del Obispo, who had also beenrumoured at one time to have strange tastes, she could not resist the urge to clarify matters. Shesaid she had known Florentino Ariza since he was a boy. She reminded her that his mother hadowned a notions shop on the Street of Windows and also bought old shirts and sheets, which sheunravelled and sold as bandages during the civil wars. And she concluded with conviction: "He isan honourable man, and he is the soul of tact

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." She was so vehement that Lucrecia took back whatshe had said: "When all is said and done, they also say the same sort of thing about me." FerminaDaza was not curious enough to ask herself why she was making so passionate a defence of a manwho had been no more than a shadow in her life. She continued to think about him, above allwhen the mail arrived without another letter from him. Two weeks of silence had gone by whenone of the servant girls woke her during her siesta with a warning whisper: "Se帽 ora," she said,"Don Florentino is here."He was there. Fermina Daza’s first reaction was panic. She thought no, he should come backanother day at a more appropriate hour, she was in no condition to receive visitors, there wasnothing to talk about. But she recovered instantly and told her to show him into the drawing roomand bring him coffee, while she tidied herself before seeing him. Florentino Ariza had waited atthe street door, burning under the infernal three o’clock sun, but in full control of the situation. Hewas prepared not to be received, even with an amiable excuse, and that certainty kept him calm.

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But the decisiveness of her message shook him to his very marrow , and when he walked into thecool shadows of the drawing room he did not have time to think about the miracle he wasexperiencing because his intestines suddenly filled in an explosion of painful foam

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. He sat down,holding his breath, hounded by the damnable memory of the bird droppings on his first love letter,and he remained motionless in the shadowy darkness until the first attack of shivering had passed,resolved to accept any mishap at that moment except this unjust misfortune.

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He knew himself well: despite his congenital constipation, his belly had betrayed him inpublic three or four times in the course of his many years, and those three or four times he hadbeen obliged to give in. Only on those occasions, and on others of equal urgency, did he realise thetruth of the words that he liked to repeat in jest: "I do not believe in God, but I am afraid of Him."He did not have time for doubts: he tried to say any prayer he could remember, but he could notthink of a single one. When he was a boy, another boy had taught him magic words for hitting abird with a stone: "Aim, aim, got my aim--if I miss you I’m not to blame." He used it when hewent to the country for the first time with a new slingshot, and the bird fell down dead. In aconfused way he thought that one thing had something to do with the other, and he repeated theformula now with the fervour of a prayer, but it did not have the desired effect. A twisting in hisguts like the coil of a spring lifted him from his seat, the foaming in his belly grew thicker andmore painful, it grumbled a lament and left him covered with icy sweat. The maid who broughthim the coffee was frightened by his corpse’s face. He sighed: "It’s the heat." She opened thewindow, thinking she would make him more comfortable, but the afternoon sun hit him full in theface and she had to close it again. He knew he could not hold out another moment, and thenFermina Daza came in, almost invisible in the darkness, dismayed at seeing him in such a state.

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"You can take off your jacket," she said to him.

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He suffered less from the deadly griping of his bowels than from the thought that she mighthear them bubbling. But he managed to endure just an instant longer to say no, he had only passedby to ask her when he might visit. Still standing, she said to him in confusion: "Well, you are herenow." And she invited him to the terrace in the patio, where it was cooler. He refused in a voicethat seemed to her like a sigh of sorrow.

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"I beg you, let it be tomorrow," he said.

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She remembered that tomorrow was Thursday, the day when Lucrecia del Real del Obispomade her regular visit, but she had the perfect solution: "The day after tomorrow at five o’clock."Florentino Ariza thanked her, bid an urgent farewell with his hat, and left without tasting thecoffee. She stood in the middle of the drawing room, puzzled, not understanding what had justhappened, until the sound of his automobile’s backfiring faded at the end of the street. ThenFlorentino Ariza shifted into a less painful position in the back seat, closed his eyes, relaxed hismuscles, and surrendered to the will of his body. It was like being reborn. The driver, who after somany years in his service was no longer surprised at anything, remained impassive. But when heopened the door for him in front of his house

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