themselves in champagne, as
if dogs and not Christians had
died, and as if that madhouse
which had cost her so many
headaches and so many candy
animals was destined to
become a trash heap of
perdition. Remembering
those things as she prepared
José Arcadios trunk, Úrsula
wondered if it was not
preferable to lie down once
and for all in her grave and let
them throw the earth over
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