Three days later they were married during the five--o'clock mass. José Arcadio had gone to Pietro Crespi's store the day before. He found him giving a zither lesson and did not draw him aside to speak to him. "I'm going to marry Rebeca," he told him. Pietro Crespi turned pale, gave the zither to one of his pupils, and dismissed the class. When they were alone in the room that was crowded with musical instruments and mechanical toys, Pietro Crespi said:
"She's your sister."
"I don't care," José Arcadio replied.
Pietro Crespi mopped his brow with the handkerchief that was soaked in lavender.
"It's against nature," he explained, "and besides, it's against the law."
José Arcadio grew impatient, not so much at the argument as over Pietro Crespi's paleness.
"Fuck nature two times over," he said. "And I've come to tell you not to bother going to ask Rebeca anything."
But his brutal deportment broke down when he saw Pietro Crespi's eyes grow moist.
"Now," he said to him in a different tone, "if you really like the family, there's Amaranta for you."