One Hundred Years of Solitude

orders that no one should
come closer than ten feet, not
even Úrsula, while the
members of his escort
finished placing guards about
the house. He was wearing an
ordinary denim uniform with
no insignia of any kind and
high boots with spurs that
were caked with mud and
dried blood. On his waist he
wore a holster with the flap
open and his hand, which was
always on the butt of the