One Hundred Years of Solitude

developed in a different way.
No sooner had Remedios the
Beauty ascended to heaven in
body and soul than the
inconsiderate Fernanda was
going about mumbling to
herself because her sheets had
been carried off. The bodies
of the Aurelianos were no
sooner cold in their graves
than Aureliano Segundo had
the house lighted up again,
filled with drunkards playing
the accordion and dousing