世紀文學經典:《百年孤獨》第9章Part 3

He did not give it, as a matter of fact. But two weeks later General Teófilo Vargas was cut to bits by machetes in an ambush and Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía assumed the main command. The same night that his authority was recognized by all the rebel commands, he woke up in a fright, calling for a blanket.
An inner coldness which shattered his bones and tortured him even in the heat of the sun would not let him sleep for several months, until it became a habit. The intoxication of power began to break apart under waves of discomfort.
Searching for a cure against the chill, he had the young officer who had proposed the murder of General Teófilo Vargas shot. His orders were being carried out even before they were given, even before he thought of them, and they always went much beyond what he would have dared have them do. Lost in the solitude of his immense power, he began to lose direction. He was bothered by the people who cheered him in neighboring villages, and he imagined that they were the same cheers they gave the enemy. Everywhere he met adolescents who looked at him with his own eyes, who spoke to him with his own voice, who greeted him with the same mistrust with which he greeted them, and who said they were his sons. He felt scattered about, multiplied, and more solitary than ever. He was convinced that his own officers were lying to him. He fought with the Duke of Marlborough. "The best friend a person has," he would say at that time, "is one who has just died." He was weary of the uncertainty, of the vicious circle of that eternal war that always found him in the same place, but always older, wearier, even more in the position of not knowing why, or how, or even when. There was always someone outside of the chalk circle. Someone who needed money, someone who had a son with whooping cough, or someone who wanted to go off and sleep forever because he could not stand the shit taste of the war in his mouth and who, nevertheless, stood at attention to inform him: "Everything normal, colonel." And normality was precisely the most fearful part of that infinite war: nothing ever happened. Alone, abandoned by his premonitions, fleeing the chill that was to accompany him until death, he sought a last refuge in Macondo in the warmth of his oldest memories. His indolence was so serious that when they announced the arrival of a commission from his party that was authorized to discuss the stalemate of the war, he rolled over in his hammock without completely waking up.
"Take them to the whores," he said.
They were six lawyers in frock coats and top hats who endured the violent November sun with stiff stoicism. úrsula put them up in her house. They spent the greater part of the day closeted in the bedroom in hermetic conferences and at dusk they asked for an escort and some accordion players and took over Catarino's store. "Leave them alone," Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía ordered. "After all, I know what they want." At the beginning of December the long-awaited interview, which many had foreseen as an interminable argument, was resolved in less than an hour.
In the hot parlor, beside the specter of the pianola shrouded in a white sheet, Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía did not sit down that time inside the chalk circle that his aides had drawn. He sat in a chair between his political advisers and, wrapped in his woolen blanket, he listened in silence to the brief proposals of the emissaries. They asked first that he renounce the revision of property titles in order to get back the support of the Liberal landowners. They asked, secondly, that he renounce the fight against clerical influence in order to obtain the support of the Catholic masses. They asked, finally, that he renounce the aim of equal rights for natural and illegitimate children in order to preserve the integrity of the home.
"That means," Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía said, smiling when the reading was over, "that all we're fighting for is power."
"They're tactical changes," one of the delegates replied. "Right now the main thing is to broaden the popular base of the war. Then we'll have another look."
One of Colonel Aureli-ano Buendía's political advisers hastened to intervene.

他確實沒有發出這樣的命令。然而兩個星期之後，泰菲羅將軍中了埋伏，被大砍刀剁成內醬，於是奧雷連諾上校擔任了總指揮。就在那天夜裏，他的權力得到起義部隊所有的指揮官承認以後，他突然驚恐地醒來，大叫大嚷地要人給他一條毛毯。
身體內部徹骨的寒冷，在灼熱的太陽下也折磨着他，在許多肩裏都使他睡不着覺，終於變成一種病症，他原來醉心於權力，現在一陣一陣地對自己感到很不滿意了。
爲了治好寒熱病，他下令槍斃勸他殺死泰菲羅·瓦加斯將軍的年輕軍官。但他還沒發出命令，甚至還沒想到這種命令，他的部下就那麼幹了，他們經常超過他自己敢於達到的界線。他雖有無限的權力，可是陷入孤獨，開始迷失方向。現在，在他佔領的城鎮裏，羣衆的歡呼也惹他生氣，他覺得這些人也是這樣歡迎他的敵人的。在每一個地方，他都遇見一些年輕人，他們用他那樣的眼睛看他。用他那樣的腔調跟他說話，對他採取他對他們的那種懷疑態度，而且把自己叫做他的兒子。他覺得奇怪——他彷彿變成了許多人，但是更加孤獨了。他懷疑自己的軍官都在騙他，他對馬博羅公爵也冷淡了。“最好的朋友是已經死了的，”當時他喜歡這麼說。由於經常多疑，由於連年戰爭的惡性循環，他已睏乏不堪；他繞來繞去，實際上是原地踏步，但卻越來越衰老，越來越精疲力盡，越來越不明白：爲什麼？怎麼辦？到何時爲止？在粉筆劃的圓圈外面，經常都站着什麼人：有的缺錢；有的兒子患了百日咳；有的希望長眠，因爲對骯髒的戰爭已經感到厭惡；但是有的卻鼓起餘力，採取“立正，，姿勢，報告說：”一切正常，上校。“然而，在綿延不斷的戰爭中，”正常“恰恰是最可怕的：表示毫無進展。奧雷連諾上校陷入孤獨，不再產生什麼預感，爲了擺脫寒熱病（這種病一直陪他到死）。他打算在馬孔多找到最後的棲身之所，在住事的回憶中得到溫暖。他的消極情緒是那麼嚴重，有人報告他自由黨代表團前來跟他討論最重要的政治問題時。他只是在吊牀上翻了個身，甚至沒讓自己睜開眼睛。
“帶他們去找妓女吧，”他嘟噥着說。
代表團成員是六個穿着禮服，戴着高筒帽的律師，以罕見的斯多葛精神忍受了＋一月裏灼熱的太陽。烏蘇娜讓他們住在她家裏。白天的大部分時間，他們都呆在臥室內祕密商量，晚上則要求給他們一個衛隊和一個手風琴合奏隊，並且包下了整個卡塔林諾遊藝場。“別打攪他們，”奧雷連諾上校命令說。“我清楚地知道他們需要什麼。”十二月初舉行的期待已久的談判用了不到一個小時，雖然許多人都以爲這次談判會變成沒完沒了的爭論。
在悶熱的客廳裏，幽靈似的自動鋼琴是用裹屍布一樣的白罩單遮住的，奧雷連諾上校的副官們在鋼琴旁邊用粉筆劃了個圈子；可是上校這一次沒有走進圈子。他坐在他那些政治顧問之間的椅子上，用毛毯裹着身子，默不作聲地傾聽代表團簡短的建議。他們要求他：第一，不再重新審覈土地所有權，以便恢復自由派地主對自由黨的支持；第二，不再反對教會勢力，以便取得信徒們的支持，第三，不再要求婚生子女和非婚生子女的平等權利，以便維護家庭的聖潔和牢固關係。
“這就是說，”在建議唸完之後，奧雷連諾上校微笑着說，“咱們戰鬥只是爲了權力羅。”
“從策略上考慮，我們對自己的綱領作了這些修改，”其中一個代表回答。“目前最主要的是擴大我們的羣衆基礎，其他的到時候再說。”
奧雷連諾上校的一位政治顧問連忙插活。