One Hundred Years of Solitude

sacred respect, as if they were
caste marks, stamps of
invulnerability. Remedios the
Beauty did not tell anyone
that one of the men, taking
advantage of the tumult, had
managed to attack her
stomach with a hand that was
more like the claw of an eagle
clinging to the edge of a
precipice. She faced the
attacker in a kind of
instantaneous flash and saw
the disconsolate eyes, which