One Hundred Years of Solitude

it, Amaranta thought of Pietro
Crespi, his evening gardenia,
and his smell of lavender, and
in the depths of her withered
heart a clean rancor
flourished, purified by time.
One afternoon when she was
trying to put the parlor in
order, Úrsula asked for the
help of the soldiers who were
guarding the house. The
young commander of the
guard gave them permission.
Little by little, Úrsula began