Chapter 51 Avellino Arredondo

It happened in Montevideo, in 1897. Every Saturday a few friends always occupied the table against the wall of the Universal Cafe, like those decent poor people who know their homes are too poor to entertain, but want to escape their surroundings.They were all from Montevideo; at first they found it difficult to get acquainted with Arredondo, who was from the interior, and he was reluctant to confess his heart or ask questions.He was in his early twenties; thin and dark, of short stature, and a little clumsy in his movements.His eyes seemed sleepy, but aggressive, and otherwise ordinary in appearance.He was a clerk in a grocery store on Buenos Aires Street and studied law in his spare time.Arredondo said nothing when others condemned the war as a disaster for the country and, as most people said, the president was delaying it for ulterior motives.When others teased him and said he was mean, he didn't speak.

Shortly after the Battle of White Mountain, Arredondo told his companions that he had business to go to Mercedes and would be away for a while.The news disturbed no one.Someone reminded him to be more careful with Aparicio Saravia's gaucho soldiers! Redondo smiled and replied that he was not afraid of the White Party.Remind his people to support the White Party and say nothing more. When he said goodbye to his girlfriend Clara, it was difficult to part with him.He still said those words, the difference was that he said that he was very busy and would not have time to write to her.Clara didn't like writing letters, and had no problem with it.The two of them have a very good relationship.

Arredondo lived in the suburbs.He was served by a mulatto woman whose parents had been slaves of the Aredonian family during the war, and who had therefore taken her master's surname.The woman was very trustworthy; Arredondo told her that whoever came looking for him said he was in the country.He has been paid his last month's salary at the grocery store. He moved into a room in the back dirt yard.This measure was useless, but it helped him begin the life of confinement he had imposed on himself. He resumed his nap habit, lying on the narrow iron bed, looking sadly at the empty shelves.He sold all the books, not even the book on the introduction to law.He has only one Bible left, which he has never read before and will not finish this time.

He flipped through page after page, sometimes with interest and sometimes with boredom, certain chapters and the end of Ecclesiastes which he forced himself to recite by heart.He didn't want to make sense of what he was looking at.He was a freethinker, but he made sure to say his prayers every night before going to bed, which he had promised his mother before coming to Montevideo, and that breaking his promise as a son might bring him bad luck. He knew his goal was the morning of August 25th.He knew the exact number of days to come.Once the goal is achieved, time stops, or rather, what happens afterward is irrelevant.He looked forward to that day as he expected happiness or relief.He stopped the clock so as not to keep looking, but every night when he heard midnight in the dark, he tore off a calendar and thought: Another day missing.

Initially, he wanted to establish a routine of life.He drank yerba mate, smoked his own cigarettes, read and skimmed a certain number of pages, tried to chat with Clementine when she brought him meals, and repeated and polished a speech before turning off the lights at night.Clementina was getting old and it was not easy to talk to her because her memories were stuck in the country and its daily life. He had a chessboard and played it all by himself, never finishing a game.If a chess piece lacks a rook, he replaces it with a bullet or a copper plate. To pass the time, Arredondo cleaned the house every morning with a rag and broom, exterminating spiders.The mulatto woman didn't like to see him do such lowly things, it was her job, and Arredondo couldn't do it well.

He really wanted to sleep until the sun was high, but he had already formed the habit of getting up at dawn, and he couldn't change it. He missed his friends very much, and it hurt him that they didn't think of him because he had been a loner before.A friend came to him one afternoon and refused without entering the hall.The mulatto woman didn't know the man; Arredondo couldn't remember who it was.He used to like reading newspapers very much, but now he doesn't know the big and small things of the day, which makes him uncomfortable.He is not a contemplative person. Day and night made no difference to him, but Sunday was hard to pass.

In mid-July, he discovered that it was a mistake to divide time into small chunks, and that time, regardless of day or night, was always passing.So he let his imagination run wild, and he imagined that now in the vast upper land of bloody Uruguay, in the ravine-crissed fields of San Irene where he had flown his kite, a two-coloured pony that was mostly dead now, drove The dust that rises when the cattlemen drive their cattle, the tired stagecoach that brings groceries from Fray Bentos every month, the beach of Agraciada where thirty-three people land, he wants to fly waterfalls, mountains, rivers, He remembered that he had climbed to the top of the hill where the lighthouse stood, and thought that there was no better scenery on the banks of the Plata River.Once, he climbed over the hill from the beach to the back hill, where he lay down and fell asleep.

The sea breeze brings coolness every night and lulls people to sleep.He never loses sleep. He loves his girlfriend with all his heart, but reminds himself that a man should not think about women, especially when there are no women.Country life had given him the habit of keeping himself clean.As for the other thing...he tried to think as little as possible of the man he hated.The sound of rain on the roof deck accompanied him. To the imprisoned or the blind, time is like a river flowing slowly on a gentle slope.Arredondo has reached that state without the concept of time more than once.The first courtyard had a pool with a toad at the bottom; it never occurred to him that the time of the toad connected with eternity was what he was looking for.

As the day drew near, restlessness came to the fore again.One night, he couldn't bear it anymore, so he went for a walk in the street.He felt that everything had changed, bigger than before.He turned the corner, saw the light, and went into the grocery store.Now that he went in, he asked for a glass of white wine.A few soldiers chatted with their elbows on the wooden counter.One of them said: "You all know that the spreading of war news is strictly prohibited. Yesterday afternoon, we encountered an incident that will make you laugh. I walked past the door of the "Justice" building with some partners. We heard violations of orders outside. We broke in immediately. The editorial office was dark, and we shot the man who was talking. When he stopped talking, we tried to drag him out, but found that the speaker was a machine called a phonograph. thing."

Everyone laughed. Arredondo was watching.The soldier said to him: "Do you think it's funny, man?" Arredondo remained silent.The soldier put his face together and said: "Call Juan Ydiarte Borda at once, long live the President of the country!" Arredondo did not defy.Amidst the laughter, he went out the door.When he got to the street, he also heard insulting words. "That coward doesn't dare to get angry, he's not stupid at all." He acted like a coward, but knew he wasn't.He walked home slowly. On August 25, Avellino Arredondo woke up after nine o'clock.He thought of Clara first, and that day only later.He breathed a sigh of relief and said: The waiting task is over.The day has finally arrived.He shaved his face in a leisurely manner, and his appearance in the mirror was still the same as before.He picked out a red tie and put on his best clothes.Late dinner.The sky was gray and rainy; he had been imagining it would be sunny.There was a tinge of sadness in his leaving that dank room for good.He met the mulatto woman on the porch and gave her the few pesos he had left with him.The colorful diamond pattern on the hardware store sign reminded him that he hadn't noticed it for more than two months.He walked towards Sarandi Street.It was a holiday that day, and there were very few pedestrians.

The clock had not yet struck three o'clock when he reached the Matrizplatz.The service of thanksgiving was over; a crowd of gentlemen, soldiers, and high priesthood descended slowly from the steps of the church, and at first sight the top hats (some still in hand), the uniforms, the filigree, the weapons, and the cassocks made a huge crowd hallucinations; in fact there were less than thirty.Arredondo had no timidity, but a sense of respect.He asked which one was the president.replied: "It's the one next to the archbishop wearing the crown and holding the staff." He drew his pistol and pulled the trigger. Idiarte Borda staggered a few steps forward, fell face down on the ground, and said clearly: I'm done. Arredondo surrendered to the authorities.He later stated: "I am the Red Party, and I proudly declare myself to be. I killed the President because he betrayed and tarnished our party. I cut off friends and lovers, so as not to implicate them; I do not read newspapers, lest people say Who am I to instigate. This act of justice rests with me alone. Judge me." That's how it happened, though more complicated; that's how I imagined it to happen.