“Bayardo San Román, the man who had given back his bride, had turned up for the first time in August of the year before: six months before the wedding. He arrived on the weekly boat with some saddlebags decorated with silver that matched the buckle of his belt and the rings on his boots. He was around thirty years old, but they were well-concealed, because he had the waist of a novice bullfighter, golden eyes, and a skin slowly roasted by saltpeter. He arrived wearing a short jacket and very light trousers, both of natural calfskin, and kid gloves of //the same color” (Márquez 25-26).
“Magdalena Oliver had been with him on the boast and couldn’t take her eyes off him during the whole trip. ‘He looked like a fairy,’ she told me. ‘And it was a pity, because I could have buttered him and eaten him alive.’ She wasn’t the only one who thought so, nor was she the last to realize that Bayardo San Román was not a man to be known at first sight” (Márquez 26).
“[my mother] told me: ‘the strange man is called Bayardo San Román, and everybody says he’s enchanting, but I haven’t seen him’” (Márquez 26).
“Nobody knew what he’d come for. Someone who couldn’t resist the temptation of asking him, a little before the wedding, received the answer: ‘I’ve been going from town to town looking for someone to marry’” (Márquez 26).
“Bayardo San Román not only was capable of doing everything, and doing it quite well, but also had access to endless resources” (Márquez 27). RICHNESS IMPORTANT SEE PAGE 27 “’People like him a lot,’ she told me, ‘because he’s honest and has a good heart’” (Márquez 27). “His golden eyes had caused the shudder of a fear in her” (Márquez 28). “He reminded me of the devil” (Márquez 28).
“I met him a short while after she did, when I came home for Christmas vacation, and I found him just as strange as they had said. He seemed attractive, certainly, but far from Magdalena Oliver’s idyllic vision. He seemed more serious to me than his antics would have led one to believe, and with a hidden tension that was barely concealed by his excessive good manners. But above all, he seemed to me like a very sad man. At that time he had already formalized his contract of love with Angela Vicario” (Márquez 28).
“It had never been too well-established how they had met. The landlady of the bachelors’ boardinghouse where Bayardo San Román lived told of how he’d been napping in a rocking chair in the parlor toward the end of September, when Angela Vicario and her mother crossed the square, carrying two baskets of artificial flowers. Bayardo San Román half-awoke, saw the two women dressed in the unforgiving black worn by the only living creatures in the morass of two o’clock in the afternoon, and asked who the young one was. The landlady answered him that she was the youngest daughter of the woman with her and that her name was Angela Vicario. Bayardo San Román // followed them with his look to the other side of the square. ‘She’s well-named,’ he said.
Then he rested his head on the back of the rocker and closed his eyes again. ‘When I wake up,’ he said, ‘remind me that I’m going to marry her’” (Márquez 29).
“On the other hand, all the versions agreed that Angela Vicario and Bayardo San Román had seen each other for the first time on the national holiday in October during a charity bazaar at which she was in charge of singing out the raffle numbers. Bayardo San Román came to the bazaar and went straight to the booth run by the languid raffler, who was in mourning, and he asked her the price of the music box inlaid with mother-of-pearl that must have been the major attraction of the fair. She answered him that it was not for sale but was to be raffled off. ‘So much the better,’ he said. ‘That makes it easier and cheaper...