One Hundred Years of Solitude

exactly when they returned to
the laboratory, dusting things,
lighting the water pipe,
involved once more in the
patient manipulation of the
material that had been
sleeping for several months in
its bed of manure. Even
Amaranta, lying in a wicker
basket, observed with
curiosity the absorbing work
of her father and her brother
in the small room where the
air was rarefied by mercury