Autobiographical fiction; France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
Saniette who, ever since he had surrendered his untouched plate to the
butler, had been plunged once more in silent meditation, emerged finally
to tell them, with a nervous laugh, a story of how he had once dined
with the Duc de La Trémoïlle, the point of which was that the Duke
did not know that George Sand was the pseudonym of a woman. Swann,
who really liked Saniette, felt bound to supply him with a few facts
illustrative of the Duke's culture, which would prove that such
ignorance on his part was literally impossible; but suddenly he stopped
short; he had realised, as he was speaking, that Saniette needed no
proof, but knew already that the story was untrue for the simple reason
that he had at that moment invented it. The worthy man suffered acutely
from the Verdurins' always finding him so dull; and as he was conscious
of having been more than ordinarily morose this evening, he had made up
his mind that he would succeed in being amusing, at least once, before
the end of dinner. He surrendered so quickly, looked so wretched at the
sight of his castle in ruins, and replied in so craven a tone to Swann,
appealing to him not to persist in a refutation which was already
superfluous, "All right; all right; anyhow, even if I have made a
mistake that's not a crime, I hope," that Swann longed to be able
to console him by insisting that the story was indubitably true and
exquisitely funny. The Doctor, who had been listening, had an idea that
it was the right moment to interject "_Se non è vero_," but he was not
quite certain of the words, and was afraid of being caught out.
After dinner, Forcheville went up to the Doctor. "She can't have been
at all bad looking, Mme. Verdurin; anyhow, she's a woman you can really
talk to; that's all I want. Of course she's getting a bit broad in the
beam. But Mme. de Crécy! There's a little woman who knows what's what,
all right. Upon my word and soul, you can see at a glance she's got
the American eye, that girl has. We are speaking of Mme. de Crécy," he
explained, as M. Verdurin joined them, his pipe in his mouth. "I should
say that, as a specimen of the female form--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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