Сто лет одиночества
Chapter 3
HewentstraighttothehouseofJoséArcadioBuendía.
Visitacióndidnotrecognizehimwhensheopenedthedoorshethoughthehadcomewiththeideaofsellingsomething,unawarethatnothingcouldbesoldinatownthatwassinkingirrevocablyintothequick-sandofforgetfulness.Hewasadecrepitman.Althoughhisvoicewasalsobrokenbyuncertaintyandhishandsseemedtodoubttheexistenceofthings,itwasevidentthathecamefromtheworldwheremencouldstillsleepandremember.JoséArcadioBuendíafoundhimsittinginthelivingroomfanninghimselfwithapatchedblackhatashereadwithcompassionateattentionthesignspastedtothewalls.Hegreetedhimwithabroadshowofaffection,afraidthathehadknownhimatanothertimeandthathedidnotrememberhimnow.Butthevisitorwasawarehisfalseness,Hefelthimselfforgotten,notwiththeirremediableforgetfulnessoftheheart,butwithadifferentkindofforgetfulness,whichwasmorecruelandirrevocableandwhichheknewverywellbecauseitwastheforgetfulnessofdeath.Thenheunderstood.Heopenedthesuitcasecrammedwithindecipherableobjectsandfromamongthenhetookoutalittlecasewithmanyflasks.HegaveJoséArcadioBuendíaadrinkofagentlecolorandthelightwentoninhismemory.Hiseyesbecamemoistfromweepingevenbeforehenoticedhimselfinanabsurdlivingroomwhereobjectswerelabeledandbeforehewasashamedofthesolemnnonsensewrittenonthewalls,andevenbeforeherecognizedthenewcomerwithadazzlingglowofjoy.ItwasMelquíades.
