Сто лет одиночества

           Aurelianorelaxedwiththeproofoftheomen.Hewentbacktoconcentrateonhisworkasifnothinghadhappened,andhisvoicetookonarestfulstrength.

           "Iwillrecognizehim,"hesaid."He’llbearmyname."

           JoséArcadioBuendíafinallygotwhathewaslookingfor:heconnectedthemechanismoftheclocktoamechanicalballerina,andthetoydanceduninterruptedlytotherhythmofherownmusicforthreedays.Thatdiscoveryexcitedhimmuchmorethananyofhisotherharebrainedundertakings.Hestoppedeating.Hestoppedsleeping.OnlythevigilanceandcareofRebecakepthimfrombeingdraggedoffbyhisimaginationintoastateofperpetualdeliriumfromwhichhewouldnotrecover.Hewouldspendthenightswalkingaroundtheroomthinkingaloud,searchingforawaytoapplytheprinciplesofthependulumtooxcarts,toharrows,toeverythingthatwasusefulwhenputintomotion.Thefeverofinsomniafatiguedhimsomuchthatonedawnhecouldnotrecognizetheoldmanwithwhitehairanduncertaingestureswhocameintohisbedroom.ItwasPrudencioAguilar.Whenhefinallyidentifiedhim,startledthatthedeadalsoaged,JoséArcadioBuendíafelthimselfshakenbynostalgia."Prudencio,"heexclaimed."You’vecomefromalongwayoff!"Aftermanyyearsofdeaththeyearningforthelivingwassointense,theneedforcompanysopressing,soterrifyingtheneatnessthatotherdeathwhichexistswithindeath,thatPrudencioAguilarhadendeduplovinghisworstenemy.Hehadspentagreatdealoftimelookingforhim.