confusedly as a progressive breakdown of time。 “The years nowadays don’t pass the way the old ones used to；？she would say； feeling that everyday reality was slipping through her hands。 In the past； she thought； children took a long time to grow up。 All one had to do was remember all the time needed for Jos？Arcadio； the elder； to go away with the gypsies and all that happened before he came back painted like a snake and talking like an astronomer； and the things that happened in the house before Amaranta and Arcadio forgot the language of the Indians and learned Spanish。 One had to see only the days of sun and dew that poor Jos？Arcadio Buendía went through under the chestnut tree and all the time weeded to mourn his death before they brought in a dying Colonel Aureliano Buendía； who after so much war and so much suffering from it was still not fifty years of age。 In other times； after spending the whole day making candy animals； she had more than enough time for the children； to see from the whites of their eyes that they needed a dose of castor oil。 Now； however； when she had nothing to do and would go about with Jos？Arcadio riding on her hip from dawn to dusk； this bad kind of time pelled her to leave things half done。 The truth was that ？rsula resisted growing old even when she had already lost count of her age and she was a bother on all sides as she tried to meddle in everything and as she annoyed strangers with her questions as to whether they had left a plaster Saint Joseph to be kept until the rains were over during the days of the war。 No one knew exactly when she had begun to lose her sight。 Even in her later years； when she could no longer get out of bed； it seemed that she was simply defeated by decrepitude； but no one discovered that she was blind。 She had noticed it before the birth of Jos？Arcadio。 At first she thought it was a matter of a passing debility and she secretly took marrow syrup and put honey on her eyes； but quite soon she began to realize that she was irrevocably sinking into the darkness； to a point where she never had a clear notion of the invention of the electric light； for when they put in the first bulbs she was only able to perceive the glow。 She did not tell anyone about it because it would have been a public recognition of her uselessness。 She concentrated on a silent schooling in the distances of things and peoples voices； so that she would still be able to see with her memory what the shadows of her cataracts no longer allowed her to。 Later on she was to discover the unforeseen help of odors； which were defined in the shadows with a strength that was much more convincing than that of bulk and color； and which saved her finally from the shame of admitting defeat。 In the darkness of the room she was able to thread a needle and sew a buttonhole and she knew when the milk was about to boil。 She knew with so much certainty the location of everything that she herself forgot that she was blind at times。 On one occasion Fernanda had the whole house upset because she had lost her wedding ring； and ？rsula found it on a shelf in the children’s bedroom。 Quite simply； while the others were going carelessly all about； she watched them with her four senses so that they never took her by surprise； and after some time she discovered that every member of the family； without realizing it； repeated the same path every day； the same actions； and almost repeated the same words at the same hour。 Only when they deviated from meticulous routine did they run the risk of losing something。 So when she heard Fernanda all upset be cause she had lost her ring； ？rsula remembered that the only thing different that she had done that day was to put the mattresses out in the sun because Meme had found a bedbug the might before。 Since the children had been present at the fumigation； ？rsula figured that Fernanda had put the ring in the only place where they could not reach it： the shelf。 Fernanda； on the other hand； looked for it in vain along the paths of her everyday itinerary without knowing that the search for lost things is hindered by routine habits and that is why it is so difficult to find them。
The rearing of Jos？Arcadio helped ？rsula in the exhausting task of keeping herself up to date on the smallest changes in the house。 When she realized that Amaranta was dressing the saints in the bedroom she pretended to show the boy the differences in the colors。
“Let’s see；？she would tell him。 “Tell me what color the Archangel Raphael is wearing。？
In that way the child gave her the information that was denied her by her eyes； and long before he went away to the seminary ？rsula could already distinguish the different colors of the saints？clothing by the texture。 Sometimes unforeseen accidents would happen。 One afternoon when Amaranta was ‘embroidering on the porch with the begonias ？rsula bumped into her。
“For heaven’s sake；？Amaranta protested。 “watch where you’re going。？
“It’s your fault；？？rsula said。 “You’re not sitting where you’re supposed to。？
She was sure of it。 But that day she began to realize something that no one had noticed and it was that with the passage of the year the sun imperceptibly changed position and those who sat on the porch had to change their position little by little without being aware of it。 From then on ？rsula had only to remember the date in order to know exactly where Amaranta was sitting。 Even though the trembling of her hands was more and more noticeable and the weight of her feet was too much for her； her small figure was never seen in so many places at the same time。 She was almost as diligent as when she had the whole weight of the house on her shoulders。 Nevertheless； in the impenetrable solitude of decrepitude she had such clairvoyance as she examined the most insignificant happenings in the family that for the first time she saw clearly the truths that her busy life in former times had prevented her from seeing。 Around the time they were preparing Jos？Arcadio for the seminary she had already made a detailed recapitulation of life in the house since the founding of Macondo and had pletely changed the opinion that she had always held of her descendants。 She realized that Colonel Aureliano Buendía had not lost his love for the family because he had been hardened by the war； as she had thought before； but that he had never loved anyone； not even his wife Remedios or the countless one…night women who had passed through his life； and much less his sons。 She sensed that he had fought so many wars not out of idealism； as everyone had thought； nor had he renounced a certain victory because of fatigue； as everyone had thought； but that he had won and lost for the same reason； pure and sinful pride。 She reached the conclusion that the son for whom she would have given her life was simply a man incapable of love。 One night when she was carrying him in her belly she heard him weeping。 It was such a definite lament that Jos？Arcadio Buendía woke up beside her and was happy with the idea that his son was going to be a ventriloquist。 Other people predicted that he would be a prophet。 She； on the other hand； shuddered from the certainty that the deep moan was a first indication of the fearful pig tail and she begged God to let the child die in her womb。 But the lucidity of her old age allowed her to see； and she said so many times； that the cries of children in their mothers？wombs are not announcements of ventriloquism or a faculty for prophecy but an unmistakable sign of an incapacity for love。 The lowering of the image of her son brought out in her all at once all the passion that she owed him。 Amaranta； however； whose hardness of heart frightened her； whose concentrated bitterness made her bitter； suddenly became clear to her in the final analysis as the most tender woman who had ever existed； and she understood with pitying clarity that the unjust tortures to which she had submitted Pietro Crespi had not been dictated by a desire for vengeance； as everyone had thought； nor had the slow martyrdom with which she had frustrated the life of Colonel Gerineldo Márquez been determined by the gall of her bitterness； as everyone had thought； but that both actions had been a mortal struggle between a measureless love and an invincible cowardice； and that the irrational fear that Amaranta had always had of her own tormented heart had triumphed in the end。 It was during that time that ？rsula； began to speak Rebeca’s name； bringing back the memory of her with an old love that was exalted by tardy repentance and a sudden admiration； ing to understand that only she； Rebeca； the one who had never fed of her milk but only of the earth of the land and the whiteness of the walls； the one who did not carry the blood of her veins in hers but the unknown blood of the strangers whose bones were still clocing in their grave。 Rebeca； the one with an impatient heart； the one with a fierce womb； was the only one who bad the unbridled courage that ？rsula had wanted for her line。
“Rebeca；？she would say； feeling along the walls； “how unfair we’ve been to you！？
In the house they simply thought that her mind was wandering； especially since the time she had begun walking about with her right