Bildungsromans; France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
Sometimes the Swanns decided to remain in the house all afternoon, and
then, as we had had luncheon so late, very soon I must watch setting,
beyond the garden-wall, the sun of that day which had seemed to me bound
to be different from other days; then in vain might the servants bring
in lamps of every size and shape, burning each upon the consecrated
altar of a console, a card-table, a corner-cupboard, a bracket, as
though for the celebration of some strange and secret rite; nothing
extraordinary transpired in the conversation, and I went home
disappointed, as one often is in one's childhood after the midnight
mass.
But my disappointment was scarcely more than mental. I was radiant with
happiness in this house where Gilberte, when she was still not with us,
was about to appear and would bestow on me in a moment, and for hours to
come, her speech, her smiling and attentive gaze, just as I had caught
it, that first time, at Combray. At the most I was a trifle jealous when
I saw her so often disappear into vast rooms above, reached by a private
staircase. Obliged myself to remain in the drawing-room, like a man in
love with an actress who is confined to his stall "in front" and wonders
anxiously what is going on behind the scenes, in the green-room, I put
to Swann, with regard to this other part of the house questions artfully
veiled, but in a tone from which I could not quite succeed in banishing
the note of uneasiness. He explained to me that the place to which
Gilberte had gone was the linen-room, offered himself to shew it to me,
and promised me that whenever Gilberte had occasion to go there again he
would insist upon her taking me with her. By these last words and the
relief which they brought me Swann at once annihilated for me one of
those terrifying interior perspectives at the end of which a woman with
whom we are in love appears so remote. At that moment I felt for him an
affection which I believed to be deeper than my affection for Gilberte.
For he, being the master over his daughter, was giving her to me,
whereas she, she withheld herself now and then, I had not the same
direct control over her as I had indirectly through Swann. Besides, it
was she whom I loved and could not, therefore look upon without that
disturbance, without that desire for something more which destroys in
us, in the presence of one whom we love, the sensation of loving.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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