One Hundred Years of Solitude

own lies. Arcadio is a serious
man now, she said, and very
brave, and a fine-looking
young man with his uniform
and saber. It was like
speaking to a dead man, for
José Arcadio Buendía was
already beyond the reach of
any worry. But she insisted.
He seemed so peaceful, so
indifferent to everything that
she decided to release him.
He did not even move from
his stool. He stayed there,