Сто лет одиночества

           Aurelianoturnedhishead,sawtheenormousdisfiguredfacewithafeltflowerbehindtheear,andthenhelosthismemory,asduringthetimesofforgetfulness,andherecovereditonastrangedawnandinaroomthatwascompletelyforeign,wherePilarTernerastoodinherslip,barefoot,herhairdown,holdingalampoverhim,startledwithdisbelief.

           "Aureliano!"

           Aurelianocheckedhisfeetandraisedhishead.Hedidnotknowhowhehadcomethere,butheknewwhathisaimwas,becausehehadcarriedithiddensinceinfancyinaninviolablebackwaterofhisheart.

           "I’vecometosleepwithyou,"hesaid.

           Hisclothesweresmearedwithmudandvomit.PilarTernera,wholivedaloneatthattimewithhertwoyoungerchildren,didnotaskhimanyquestions.Shetookhimtothebed.Shecleanedhisfacewithadampcloth,tookofhisclothes,andthengotcompletelyundressedandloweredthemosquitonettingsothatherchildrenwouldnotseethemiftheywokeup.Shehadbecometiredofwaitingforthemanwhowouldstay,ofthemenwholeft,ofthecountlessmenwhomissedtheroadtoherhouse,confusedbytheuncertaintyofthecards.Duringthewaitherskinhadbecomewrinkled,herbreastshadwithered,thecoalsofherhearthadgoneout.ShefeltforAurelianointhedarkness,putherhandonhisstomachandkissedhimontheneckwithamaternaltenderness."Mypoorchild,"shemurmured.Aurelianoshuddered.