Сто лет одиночества

           úrsulastooduptohim."InawaythatneitheryounorIcanunderstand,thatmanwasasaint,"shesaid."SoIamgoingtoburyhim,againstyourwishes,besideMelquíades’grave."Shediditthesupportofthewholetownandwithamagnificentfuneral.Amarantadidnotleaveherbedroom.Fromherbedsheheardúrsula’sweeping,thestepsandwhispersofthemultitudethatinvadedthehouse,thewailingofthemourners,andthenadeepsilencethatsmelledoftrampledflowers.ForalongtimeshekeptonsmellingPietroCrespi’slavenderbreathatdusk,butshehadthestrengthnottosuccumbtodelirium.úrsulaabandonedher.ShedidnotevenraisehereyestopityherontheafternoonwhenAmarantawentintothekitchenandputherhandintothecoalsofthestoveuntilithurthersomuchthatshefeltnomorepainbutinsteadsmelledthepestilenceofherownsingedflesh.Itwasastupidcureforherremorse.Forseveraldaysshewentaboutthehousewithherhandinapotofeggwhites,andwhentheburnshealeditappearedasifthewhiteshadalsoscarredoverthesoresonherheart.Theonlyexternaltracethatthetragedyleftwasthebandageofblackgauzethatsheputonherburnedhandandthatsheworeuntilherdeath.

           ArcadiogaveararedisplayofgenerositybydecreeingofficialmourningforPietroCrespi.úrsulainterpreteditasthereturnofthestrayedlamb.Butshewasmistaken.ShehadlostArcadio,notwhenhehadputonhismilitaryuniform,butfromthebeginning.