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the worms with splendid funeral ceremonies。 She worked out the plan with such hatred that it made her tremble to think about the scheme； which she would have carried out in exactly the same way if it had been done out of love； but she would not allow herself to bee upset by the confusion and went on perfecting the details so minutely that she came to be more than a specialist and was a virtuoso in the rites of death。 The only thing that she did not keep In mind in her fearsome plan was that in spite of her pleas to God she might die before Rebeca。 That was； in fact； what happened。 At the final moment； however； Amaranta did not feel frustrated； but on the contrary； free of all bitterness because death had awarded her the privilege of announcing itself several years ahead of time。 She saw it on one burning afternoon sewing with her on the porch a short time after Meme had left for school。 She saw it because it was a woman dressed in blue with long hair； with a sort of antiquated look； and with a certain resemblance to Pilar Ternera during the time when she had helped with the chores in the kitchen。 Fernanda was present several times and did not see her； in spite of the fact that she was so real； so human； and on one occasion asked of Amaranta the favor of threading a needle。 Death did not tell her when she was going to die or whether her hour was assigned before that of Rebeca； but ordered her to begin sewing her own shroud on the next sixth of April。 She was authorized to make it as plicated and as fine as she wanted； but just as honestly executed as Rebeca’s； and she was told that she would die without pain； fear； or bitterness at dusk on the day that she finished it。 Trying to waste the most time possible； Amaranta ordered some rough flax and spun the thread herself。 She did it so carefully that the work alone took four years。 Then she started the sewing。 As she got closer to the unavoidable end she began to understand that only a miracle would allow her to prolong the work past Rebeca’s death； but the very concentration gave her the calmness that she needed to accept the idea of frustration。 It was then that she understood the vicious circle of Colonel Aureliano Buendía’s little gold fishes。 The world was reduced to the surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness。 It pained her not to have had that revelation many years before when it had still been possible to purify memories and reconstruct the universe under a new light and evoke without trembling Pietro Crespi’s smell of lavender at dusk and rescue Rebeca from her slough of misery； not out of hatred or out of love but because of the measureless understanding of solitude。 The hatred that she noticed one night in Memes words did not upset her because it was directed at her； but she felt the repetition of another adolescence that seemed as clean as hers must have seemed and that； however； was already tainted with rancor。 But by then her acceptance of her fate was so deep that she was not even upset by the certainty that all possibilities of rectification were closed to her。 Her only objective was to finish the shroud。 Instead of slowing it down with useless detail as she had done in the beginning； she speeded up the work。 One week before she calculated that she would take the last stitch on the night of February 4； and without revealing the motives； she suggested to Meme that she move up a clavichord concert that she had arranged for the day after； but the girl paid no attention to her。 Amaranta then looked for a way to delay for forty…eight hours； and she even thought that death was giving her her way because on the night of February fourth a storm caused a breakdown at the power plant。 But on the following day； at eight in the morning； she took the last stitch in the most beautiful piece of work that any woman had ever finished； and she announced without the least bit of dramatics that she was going to die at dusk。 She not only told the family but the whole town； because Amaranta had conceived of the idea that she could make up for a life of meanness with one last favor to the world； and she thought that no one was in a better position to take letters to the dead。
The news that Amaranta Buendía was sailing at dusk carrying the mail of death spread throughout Macondo before noon； and at three in the afternoon there was a whole carton full of letters in the parlor。 Those who did not want to write gave Amaranta verbal messages； which she wrote down in a notebook with the name and date of death of the recipient。 “Don’t worry；？she told the senders。 “The first thing I’ll do when I get there is to ask for him and give him your message。？It was farcical。 Amaranta did not show any upset or the slightest sign of grief； and she even looked a bit rejuvenated by a duty acplished。 She was as straight and as thin as ever。 If it had not been for her hardened cheekbones and a few missing teeth； she would have looked much younger than she really was。 She herself arranged for them to put the letters in a box sealed with pitch and told them to place it in her grave in a way best to protect it from the dampness。 In the morning she had a carpenter called who took her measurements for the coffin as she stood in the parlor； as if it were for a new dress。 She showed such vigor in her last hours that Fernanda thought she was making fun of everyone。 ？rsula； with the experience that Buendías died without any illness； did not doubt at all that Amaranta had received an omen of death； but in any case she was tormented by the fear that with the business of the letters and the anxiety of the senders for them to arrive quickly they would bury her alive in their confusion。 So she set about clearing out the house； arguing with the intruders as she shouted at them； and by four in the afternoon she was successful。 At that time Amaranta had finished dividing her things among the poor and had left on the severe coffin of unfinished boards only the change of clothing and the simple cloth slippers that she would wear in death。 She did not neglect that precaution because she remembered that when Colonel Aureliano Buendía died they had to buy a pair of new shoes for him because all he had left were the bedroom slippers that he wore in the workshop。 A little before five Aureliano Segundo came to fetch Meme for the concert and was surprised that the house was prepared for the funeral。 if anyone seemed alive at the moment it was the serene Amaranta； who had even had enough time to cut her corns。 Aureliano Segundo and Meme took leave of her with mocking farewells and promised her that on the following Saturday they would have a big resurrection party。 Drawn by the public talk that Amaranta Buendía was receiving letters for the dead； Father Antonio Isabel arrived at five o’clock for the last rites and he had to wait for more than fifteen minutes for the recipient to e out of her bath。 When he saw her appear in a madapollam nightshirt and with her hair loose over her shoulders； the decrepit parish priest thought that it was a trick and sent the altar boy away。 He thought however； that he would take advantage of the occasion to have Amaranta confess after twenty years of reticence。 Amaranta answered simply that she did not need spiritual help of any kind because her conscience was clean。 Fernanda was scandalized。 Without caring that people could hear her she asked herself aloud what horrible sin Amaranta had mitted to make her prefer an impious death to the shame of confession。 Thereupon Amaranta lay down and made ？rsula give public testimony as to her virginity。
“Let no one have any illusions；？she shouted so that Fernanda would hear her。 “Amaranta Buendía is leaving this world just as she came into it。
She did not get up again。 Lying on cushions； as if she really were ill； she braided her long hair and rolled it about her ears as death had told her it should be on her bier。 Then she asked ？rsula for a mirror and for the first time in more than forty years she saw her face； devastated by age and martyrdom； and she was surprised at how much she resembled the mental image that she had of herself。 ？rsula understood by the silence in the bedroom that it had begun to grow dark。
“Say good…bye to Fernanda；？she begged her。 One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship。？
“It’s of no use now；？Amaranta replied。
Meme could not help thinking about her when they turned on the lights on the improvised stage and she began the second part of the program。 In the middle of the piece someone whispered the news in her ear and the session stopped。 When he arrived home； Aureliano Segundo had to push his way through the crowd to see the corpse of the aged virgin； ugly and discolored； with the black bandage on her hand and wrapped in the magnificent shroud。 She was laid out in the parlor beside the box of letters。
？rsula did not get up again after the nine nights of mourning for Amaranta； Santa Sofía de la Piedad took care of her。 She took her meals to her bedroom and annatto water for her to wash in and she kept her up to date on everything that happened in Macondo。 Aureliano Segundo visited her frequently and he brought her clothing which she would place be