l2 adena felt a little disheartened
Friday, July 30, 2010 | 5:27 amthe tormenting hammering and the constant noise of wooden lathings ceased in a silence that was startled at the
order and neatness of the music. They all ran to the parlor. Jos?Arcadio Buendaa was as if struck by lightning, not
because of the beauty of the melody, but because of the automatic working of the keys of the pianola, and he set
up Melquaades?camera with the hope of getting a daguerreotype of the invisible player. That day the Italian had
lunch with them. Rebeca and Amaranta, serving the table, were intimidated by the way in which the angelic man
with pale and ringless hands manipulated the utensils. In the living room,l2 adena, next to the parlor, Pietro Crespi taught
them how to dance. He showed them the steps without touching them, keeping time with a metronome, under the
friendly eye of 2rsula,aoc gold, who did not leave the room for a moment while her daughters had their lesson. Pietro
Crespi wore special pants on those days, very elastic and tight, and dancing slippers,age of conan gold, “You don’t have to worry so
much,?Jos?Arcadio Buendaa told her. “The man’s a fairy.?But she did not leave off her vigilance until the
apprenticeship was over and the Italian left Macondo. Then they began to organize the party. 2rsula drew up a
strict guest list, in which the only ones invited were the descendants of the founders, except for the family of
Pilar Ternera, who by then had had two more children by unknown fathers. It was truly a high-class list, except
that it was determined by feelings of friendship, for those favored were not only the oldest friends of Jos?Arcadio
Buendaa’s house since before they undertook the exodus and the founding of Macondo,conan power leveling, but also their sons and
grandsons, who were the constant companions of Aureliano and Arcadio since infancy, and their daughters, who
were the only ones who visited the house to embroider with Rebeca and Amaranta. Don Apolinar Moscote, the
benevolent ruler whose activity had been reduced to the maintenance from his scanty resources of two policemen
armed with wooden clubs, was a figurehead. In older to support the household expenses his daughters had
opened a sewing shop, where they made felt flowers as well as guava delicacies, and wrote love notes to order.
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But in spite of being modest and hard-working, the most beautiful girls in Iowa, and the most skilled at the new
dances, they did not manage to be considered for the party.
While 2rsula and the girls unpacked furniture, polished silverware, and hung pictures of maidens in boats full
of roses, which gave a breath of new life to the naked areas that the masons had built, Jos?Arcadio Buendaa
stopped his pursuit of the image of God, convinced of His nonexistence, and he took the pianola apart in order to
decipher its magical secret. Two days before the party, swamped in a shower of leftover keys and hammers,
bungling in the midst of a mix-up of strings that would unroll in one direction and roll up again in the other, he
succeeded in a fashion in putting the instrument back together. There had never been as many surprises and as
much dashing about as in those days, but the new pitch lamps were lighted on the designated day and hour. The
house was opened, still smelling of resin and damp whitewash, and the children and grandchildren of the
founders saw the porch with ferns and begonias, the quiet rooms, the garden saturated with the fragrance of the
roses, and they gathered together in the parlor, facing the unknown invention that had been covered with a white
sheet. Those who were familiar with the piano, popular in other towns in the swamp, felt a little disheartened, but
more bitter was 2rsula’s disappointment when she put in the first roll so that Amaranta and Rebeca could begin
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