Chapter 33 Part Two Around the Girls Volume One Around Madame Swann (8)

My parents hoped that the wisdom Bergott had discovered in me would turn into a great achievement.When I didn't know the Swanns, I thought that I didn't want to write because I couldn't meet Hilbert freely, because I was anxious.But when they opened the door to me, I got up and ran to their house as soon as I sat down at the desk.I came back from their house, alone, but that was only the appearance, and my mind still couldn't resist the flow of words, because I had mechanically allowed myself to be swept away by it during the last few hours.I was alone, but I continued to invent words that might please the Swann couple, and, to make the game more interesting, I played the interlocutor present, and I asked myself imaginary questions in order to make my insights into ingenious answers.This exercise, although performed in silence, is a conversation, not a meditation.My solitude is a kind of spiritual salon in which I am not in control of my words but an imaginary interlocutor; I therefore feel a purely passive pleasure, such as that one feels when immobilized by indigestion.

If I wasn't planning to write for a long time, I might be in a hurry to start writing.Now that my intention is certain, since in another twenty-four hours (tomorrow is a blank frame, I haven't entered yet, so everything in the frame is in order), my good wishes can easily come true , then why pick a night when you are in a bad mood for writing?Of course, unfortunately, the next few days were not auspicious for writing.Since I have been waiting for several years, there is no harm in waiting for three more days.I was so convinced that by the third day I would be able to write several pages that I kept my parents silent about my plans.I would rather endure for a few more hours, and then show my grandmother the work I am creating, to comfort her and convince her.Sadly, the next day was still not the expansive, action day I was eagerly looking forward to.At the end of the day, my laziness, my arduous struggle with my inner block lasted only another twenty-four hours, and after a few days, my plan was still on paper, and I no longer expected it to be realized immediately, and No more courage to make this a prerequisite.So I started going to bed late again, and I didn't have to go to bed early with the exact fantasy of starting my pen tomorrow morning.I'll need a few days off before getting back on my feet.One day (the only time), my grandmother mustered up her courage and reproached in a disappointed and gentle tone: "Why, there is no follow-up to your writing?"Her words put me back again, and perhaps for a long time, from putting them into practice, because her injustice to me annoys me, and I don't like to write in a mood that's bothered me.Realizing that her doubts had blindly interfered with my intentions, she apologized, kissed me and said, "I'm sorry, I won't say anything more." , writing will start naturally.

"Besides," I thought to myself, "going to Swann's to spend time, am I not like Bergotte?" My parents almost thought that since I was in the same salon as a famous writer, the time spent there Surely a great boost to genius, though I am very lazy.How absurd it is to receive genius from others instead of developing it from within yourself!This is like a person who does not pay attention to hygiene at all, eats and drinks too much, and keeps healthy just by sharing meals with the doctor regularly!However, the greatest victim of this fantasy (which deceived me and my parents) was Mme Swann.When I told her I couldn't come and I had to stay at home and work, she acted as if she thought I was putting on airs, stupid and pretentious.

"But Bergott is coming. Don't you think his writing is bad? It will be better soon," she went on. "He writes articles for the newspapers that are sharper, more concise, and not a little bit like his books." Wordy. I have already arranged to ask him to write an editorial for Le Figaro in the future, this is the right man in the right place (the right man in the right place).” She added: "Come on, he knows best what you should do." It was for the sake of my career that she told me to have dinner at the same table with Bergott the next day anyway (just like a volunteer soldier meeting a colonel), and she seemed to think that literary masterpieces are produced "through association".

As a result, neither the Swanns nor my parents—who at various moments seemed to have stopped me—had any further objection to my easy life, which allowed me to live freely, if not calmly at least It was intoxicating to meet Hilbert.There is no peace in love, because one always pushes an inch.In the past, I couldn't go to her house, so I regarded going to her house as an unattainable happiness. I never thought that there would be new troublesome factors in her house.When her parents let go of their objections, and when the problem was finally resolved, the annoyance reappeared in a new form.In this sense, it can be said that every day begins a new friendship.When I come back at night, I always think of certain things that are crucial to our friendship, that I must talk to Hilbert, and these things are endless and never the same.But I am happy after all, and this happiness is no longer threatened by anything.Instead, the threat finally appeared, and, unfortunately, it came from the side I thought was infallible, Gilberte and me.The things that comforted me, what I thought were happiness, should have disturbed me.We are often in an abnormal state in love, with a certain seriousness.We are happy because there is something unstable within us, which we are constantly striving to maintain, and which, so long as it does not shift, we are hardly aware of.It is true that love involves persistent pain, but it is diluted by joy and becomes latent and delayed pain, but it can burst out violently at any time (if people don't get what they want, this pain will have burst out long ago).

Several times I felt that Hilbert did not want me to go too often.Indeed, her parents became more and more convinced that I was a good influence on her, and I thought that all I had to do was ask them to invite me when I saw her, so I thought: "Then my love will never be in any danger again. Since They are on my side, and they have authority over Hilbert, so what have I to worry about?" However, when her father invited me, somehow against her wishes, she showed displeasure. Impatience, these expressions made me wonder: Is what I thought to be the guarantee of happiness the very secret cause of its interruption?

The last time I went to see Hilbert, it was raining.She was invited to dance training, but she didn't know the family well enough to take me there.I took more caffeine than usual that day to fight off the humidity.Mrs. Swan probably because of the bad weather or because she had a prejudice against the family at the party, so when her daughter went out, she called her angrily: "Hilbert stay!" and pointed at me, indicating that I came to see her Yes, she should stay at home with me.Mrs. Swann uttered—or called out—"Hilbert" out of kindness to me, but Hilbert shrugged as she put down her clothes, and I immediately realized that this mother had inadvertently accelerated my relationship with me. The process of the girlfriend's gradual breakup, which may have been prevented until then. "It is not necessary to dance every day," said Odette to her daughter, with an air of wisdom which she had probably learned from Swann.Then she returned to Odette's normal state and spoke English with her daughter. Immediately, it was as if a wall covered part of Hilbert, as if an evil spirit had wrapped my girlfriend away from me.In languages ​​we are familiar with, we can substitute transparent thoughts for opaque voices, but languages ​​unfamiliar to us are like a closed palace where the woman we love can flirt and we are Closed out, desperate but powerless, seeing nothing, stopping nothing.Certain French proper nouns, which often appear in this English conversation, seem to be clues and make me more disturbed.A month ago I would have laughed it off, but now, even though they were talking within close proximity, I felt cruel and merciless, leaving me alone.Finally, Madame Swann went away.On this day, perhaps because Hilbert complained that I could not help hindering her from dancing, perhaps because I was deliberately colder than before (I guessed that she was angry with me), her face did not have a trace of joy, dryness, and sullenness, It was as if the whole afternoon had been spent thinking about the quadruple that my visit had prevented her from doing, as if the whole afternoon had been spent blaming everyone, first and foremost of course me, for not understanding the mysterious reason why she was so attached to the Boston dance.She just exchanged a few words with me from time to time, how is the weather, the rain is getting heavier, the clock is going faster, with silence and monosyllabic words in between.I struggled desperately, determined to spoil these moments that should have been devoted to friendship and happiness.Everything we said was so blunt, so empty and absurd, which comforted me, because Hilbert would not take my banal thoughts and indifferent tone seriously.Although I said: "It used to be that the clock seemed to run slowly." She understood me to mean: "You are so bad!" I fought tenaciously on this rainy day to prolong these words without a ray of sunshine, but all efforts belonged In vain, I know that my indifference is not as frozen as it is pretended to be, Hilbert must have felt that since I have said "the days are getting shorter" three times, if I rashly repeat it a fourth time, then I must Difficult to control, will burst into tears.As she looked now, there was no smile in her eyes or face, and there was a depressing monotony in her sad eyes and gloomy face.The face had become almost ugly, like that drab beach where the water had receded so far, its blazing uniformity and boredom within the fixed, closed horizon.Finally, seeing that Hilbert still did not change her mind as I had expected for several hours, I told her that she was not enough. "You're not mean enough," she replied. "What's wrong with me?" I asked myself what I did wrong, and when I found nothing, I asked her again.

"Of course, you think you're good!" She laughed for a long time after she finished speaking.Then I felt how painful it was that I couldn't reach that other layer of thought that her laughter expressed, another, more elusive layer of thought.Her smile seemed to mean: "No, no, I don't believe you at all. I know you love me, but I don't care, I don't take you seriously." However, I reminded myself that after all, laughing is not a clear How can I be sure that I understand the language correctly, not to mention Hilbert's words are still full of emotion. "What's wrong with me? Tell me, and I will do what you say." "No, it's not necessary, I can't explain it to you." For a moment, I was afraid that she would think that I didn't love her. Just as intensely painful, it calls for another kind of logic. "If you knew how much it hurts me, you would have told me." If she had doubted my love, my sadness would have pleased her, but at this moment, on the contrary, she was angry.Realizing my error of judgment, I resolved not to take her word for it, to let her say, "I have always loved you, and one day you will understand." (Sinners often say their innocence will be revealed, however, out of For mysterious reasons, this day will never be the day they are tried).I mustered up my courage and suddenly decided not to see her again, but not to tell her for a while because she wouldn't believe it.

Someone you love can bring you bitter sorrow, even when you are too preoccupied with worries, affairs, and joys that have nothing to do with her or him.But if the sorrow—as mine was this time—is born when we are immersed in the bliss of meeting her, then there is a sharp depression in our sunny, stable and peaceful mind. , thus setting off a violent storm on us, so that we have no confidence to fight it to the end.The storm rising in my heart at this moment is so fierce that I leave, dazed and bruised, and feel that I can only catch my breath if I go back, find an excuse to go back to Hilbert again.But she would say, "It's him again! It seems I can do whatever I want with him. He will always come back, and the more painful he is going, the more submissive he will be when he comes back." My thoughts pulled me back with irresistible force. to her side.When I got home, these shifting winds, this internal dislocation of the compass were still there, and I began to write inconsistent letters to Hilbert.

I am about to go through a difficult situation, which a person tends to face many times in a lifetime, and each time, at different ages, people take a different attitude, although there is no change in their character or nature (we Our nature creates love, creates the women we love, and even their mistakes.) At this point, our lives are split in two, as if all on opposite scales.One plate is our desire not to upset those we love but do not understand, but not to be too humble, to subtly snub them a little, not to make them feel that they are indispensable for a moment, because this feeling will make them leave us.The other scale is pain (not definite, partial pain), which is the opposite of the previous state, only when we stop trying to please this woman, stop making her believe that she is nothing to us, so that we can no longer feel it. The pain eased when he got close to her.If we take from the scale of self-esteem some of the perseverance that age wears out, and add to the scale of sorrow the physical pain we have gradually acquired and allowed to develop, then the scale will not show us when we were twenty. It was a brave decision at the time, but a decision we made when we were approaching our fifties—it was heavy, unbalanced, and unbearable.Moreover, the situation is changed by repetition, and certain habits which we may be happy to confound with love in middle or old age (which is fatal to love), are not recognized in youth, and are subject to many others. Obligation constraints, can not arbitrarily dominate their own.

I had just written a letter to Hilbert expressing my anger, but I had also deliberately arranged a few seemingly accidental remarks, and my girlfriend could grab these life circles to reconcile with me; but a moment later, the wind changed, and I wrote some A sentimental sentence, using something sweet and sad, like "never again."The user finds these words touching, but the woman reading the letter finds them boring, or she thinks it's all a lie, interpreting "never again" as "if you need me tonight"; It's the truth, so it means breaking up forever (and what a shame to break up with someone we don't love).Now that we are in love, we cannot behave as we would when we are no longer in love, and we cannot imagine the woman's true state of mind, because, knowing that she is cold and unfeeling, we still imagine her speaking as a lover (we Do it to deceive yourself with beautiful fantasies, or to relieve a heavy sorrow).We behave in the face of the woman we love in the same way that the earliest scientists of antiquity faced natural phenomena (science has not yet been established, the unknown has not yet been explained), at a loss, or worse.We can't see cause and effect, we can't see the connection between this phenomenon and that phenomenon, and the world in our eyes is as vague as a dream.Of course, I tried to overcome this disorder, trying to find out why.I even tried to be "objective", seriously considering Hilbert's status in my eyes, my status in her eyes, and her status in the eyes of others, how different they are!If I didn't see this disparity, I'd see my girlfriend's simple attentions as an outpouring of passionate love, and my own ridiculous and indecent behavior as a simple, graceful devotion to beauty.But I was also afraid of going to the other extreme and seeing Hilbert's late appointments and bad mood as irrevocable hostility.My pains were somewhat assuaged by the calculations I made in trying to find, among these two equally distorted views of the truth, a third view which reflected things correctly.I decided to go to the Swann's next day (perhaps as a result of submitting to these calculations, perhaps I made the calculations express my desire), I was happy, like a person who does not want to travel and is troubled for a long time, Finally, when I arrived at the station, I made up my mind to cancel the trip, so I happily returned home and unpacked my luggage.When people hesitate, the thought of taking some decision (unless the thought is deadened by not taking any decision) is like a living seed that outlines the outlines of the passions that will arise when the action is completed. Therefore, I It was absurd to tell myself that it was only an idea that I would never see her again, and that I should suffer as if it were the real thing!Besides, since I will eventually return to her side, why make such painful decisions and promises? However, this revival of friendly relations only lasted for a moment, that is, on my way to Swann's house.It was shattered not because the caterer (who liked me very much) told me that Hilbert was not at home (I knew from the people who met her that night that she was not at home), but because of the way he said: "Monsieur, Miss is not at home, and I assure you that she is. If sir wants to find out, I can call the lady's maid. Sir, you can trust that I will do everything to please him. If Miss is at home, I will get you right away. Go see her, sir." The only significance of this statement is its spontaneity, as it puts an x-ray (at least roughly) at an unimaginable reality that its pretentious words mask.These words prove that in the eyes of those around Hilbert, I am a stalker.As soon as these words came out of his mouth, hatred aroused in my heart. Of course, I am happy to regard him, not Hilbert, as the object of hatred.I poured out all my anger against her on him, so that my love, free from anger, remained alone.However, this remark also shows that I should not go to Hilbert in the short term.She will write and apologize to me.Still, I'm not going to see her right away, I'm going to prove to her that I can live without her.Besides, after I received Hilbert's letter, I could more easily endure the pain of not seeing her for a while, because I would definitely see her whenever I wanted to.In order to bear this deliberate separation without being too painful, my mind must be rid of terrible doubts, such as whether we have broken up, whether she has been engaged to someone else, and has been stolen.The next few days were very similar to New Year's week, when I had to go on living without Hilbert.However, it was clear to me at the time that at the end of that Monday, she would be back on the Champs-Elysées, and I would see her as before, and on the other hand, as long as the New Year's holiday was not over, I would go to the Champs-Elysées It didn't work either.So, during that already distant, melancholy week, I bore my sorrows calmly, without fear or hope.But not now, and this latter emotion, hope, pained me almost as much as fear. I did not receive a letter from Hilbert that night. I blamed her negligence and busyness, and I was convinced that there must be a letter from her in the next morning's letter.I look forward to the morning letter every day, my heart is beating violently, and when I receive a letter from someone other than Hilbert, I am dejected.Sometimes I don't have a letter, which is not worse, because another woman's kindness to me will make Hilbert's indifference even more merciless.I then turned my attention to the afternoon letter.I did not go out, even outside of the post office hours, because she was likely to have a letter delivered.Finally, it was getting late, and neither the postman nor the Swann's servants would come to the door, so I forwarded my hope of calming down to the next morning.I do this because I don't think my pain will last and I have to keep renewing it let's say.Grief remains the same, but instead of prolonging the original passion as it did invariably, it begins afresh many times a day, and the passion is renewed so frequently that it ends—it is a purely material, temporary state. —Steady there, so that before the confusion caused by the previous anticipation calmed down, the second anticipation appeared, and I was in anxiety all the time every day (it was not easy to endure for an hour).The pain this time was a hundred times more severe than the previous New Year's holiday, because this time I didn't accept the pain completely, but I always hoped that the pain would end. In the end I accepted the pain after all, knowing that it was decisive that I would give up Hilbert forever, also for the sake of my love, because I would never want her to still despise me in memory.From now on, when she makes an appointment for me, I often even promise, lest she think I'm being mad at love; Dealing with someone I don't want to meet.I feel that these apologetic polite words, which are usually used in casual acquaintances, are more likely to convince Hilbert of my indifference than the pretended indifference to the woman I love.Instead of words, I used repeated actions to better explain that I had no intention of meeting her; when I did, she might be interested in me again.Unfortunately, this is fantasy.To revive her interest in seeing me by not seeing her again would be tantamount to losing her forever, because, first, when the interest revived, I could not immediately submit to it in order to perpetuate it; The worst of times is over, because I need her most now.I really want to warn her that soon, the pain of this separation will be greatly reduced, and I will not think of surrender, reconciliation, and seeing her again in order to end the pain as I am doing now.In the future, when Hilbert's interest in me resumes, and I can express my interest to her without danger, this interest will not survive such a long separation and will cease to exist.Hilbert will become dispensable to me.I know this very well, but I can't tell her.If I tell her that I will not love her again after a long absence, she will think that my purpose is only to make her call me quickly.During this period, I always chose to visit Mrs. Swan on the days when Gilberte was not at home, and she and her girlfriend went out for dinner (for me she became the same as before, when I rarely saw her daughter, When the girl does not come to the Champs-Elysées, I go for a walk on the Avenue des Champs), so that Gilberte can understand that the reason why I don’t see her is not because I am troubled by other things, nor because I am not in good health, but because I don’t want to see her. Meet, despite my confession to the contrary.This method made it easier for me to maintain the separation.Since I can hear people talking about Hilbert, she must also hear people talking about me, and she will understand that I am not attached to her.Like all people who are in pain, I feel that although my situation is not good, it is not the worst, because I can come and go from Hilbert's house at will (although I will never take advantage of this privilege).If the pain becomes too intense, I can stop it.So my pain is temporary every day, it’s not enough to say, how many times an hour (but now there is no such thing as the suffocating, anxious anticipation of the first few weeks of the break—on my return to Sri Lanka. Wanjia before), I read to myself the letter that Hilbert will send me one day, or send it himself!This imaginary happiness, which now and then comes before me, helped me to endure the ruin of real happiness.No matter our women are like "missing persons", even though we know there is no hope, we still look forward, waiting for a little movement, a little sound.It's like a mother who knows that her son, who is surveying danger, has been buried in the sea, but still imagines that he will be miraculously rescued and will walk in the door in good health.This waiting, depending on the strength of the memory and the resistance of the organs, either causes the mother to admit the fact after many years and gradually forgets the son and lives on, or causes the mother to die.On the other hand, I was a little relieved to think that my grief was in favor of my love.I visited Mme. Swann without seeing Hilbert. This visit was always cruel, but I felt that it would improve Hilbert's opinion of me. Before going to see Mrs. Swann, I always inquire whether her daughter is really not at home. I do this not only because I am determined to break off relations with her, but also because I still hope for reconciliation, and this hope overlaps with the intention of breaking off relations. (hopes and intentions are seldom absolute, at least not always, for there is a law in the human mind, which is governed by sudden flashes of different memories, which is discontinuity), and keeps me unconscious The cruelty of the intention.I know very well that there is little hope.I am like a poor man who would not weep so much if, while nibbling his dry bread, he thought that some stranger might give him the whole fortune in a little while.To make reality bearable, we often have to keep some little absurdity in our minds.So my hope would have been more intact if I hadn't met Hilbert--though at the same time our separation had become more real.If I had met her face to face at her mother's house, we might have exchanged a few irreparable words, which would have made the rift permanent and my hopes dashed; I can hardly resign myself to fate. A long time ago, before I broke up with her daughter, Madame Swann said to me: "It is very good that you come to see Hilbert, but I hope you will come to see me sometimes, but not in my comfort." Fleury comes on a day with a lot of guests, which will tire you, come on another day, and I will always be home later in the day." So it seemed that my visit was only to fulfill a wish she had expressed long ago.I went out to Madame Swann's house late at night, when my parents were about to have dinner, knowing that I would not meet Hilbert during the interview, but all I could think of was her.At that time, Paris was not as brightly lit as it is today. Even the streets in the city center had no electric lights, and indoor electric lights were rare. The room where the lady usually receives guests is here) The living room casts bright lights to illuminate the street and make passers-by look up.He naturally connected this light, its obvious and obscure cause, with the gorgeous carriages at the gate.When he saw a carriage start, he thought with emotion that the cause of the mystery had changed. It was just that the driver was afraid that the horses would catch cold, so he let the horses walk back and forth. This movement was impressive, because the rubber wheels were silent. Silent, it makes the hoofbeats appear crisper and more distinct. -------- ① Schuffler, the protagonist in Offenbach's light opera, here refers to the official reception day. In those days, the indoor "winter garden" could be seen from the street, no matter which street it was on, as long as the house was not too high from the pavement (today it can only be seen in the gravure photographs of the New Year's gift series of Stahl). ), this kind of garden is the exact opposite of the decoration of Louis XVI living rooms today - very few flowers, only a single rose or Japanese pansy in a long-necked crystal glass bottle, and no more can be inserted - Its profusion of the fashionable houseplants, so carelessly arranged, shows not so much the hostess' calm adoption of lifeless decorations as her passionate love of living plants.It is even more reminiscent of the portable miniature greenhouses that were popular in mansions at that time.In the early morning of January 1st, people put this kind of flower house under the lamp - the children are impatient to wait until dawn - among the New Year's gifts, and it is the most beautiful gift, because people can use it to cultivate plants, so as to forget the bare winter.The winter garden is not only similar to this kind of greenhouse, but also to the picture of the greenhouse in the beautiful book next to the greenhouse. The picture is also a New Year gift, but it is not given to the children, but to Miss Lily, the heroine in the book, It fascinates children so much that they are old now and still think that winter in those lucky years was the best of seasons.Passers-by stand on tiptoe and can often see in the depths of this winter garden, inside the various trees (looking in from the street, the lighted windows seem to be the windows of children's greenhouses-pictures or real- glass cover), a man in a gown with a gardenia or carnation in his button is standing in front of a seated lady, silhouetted like two dimples in a block of topaz. The living room was filled with the mist of a samovar—a new import at the time—that still exists today, but people take it for granted and ignore it.Mrs. Swan attaches great importance to this kind of "tea". She thinks it is novel and charming to say to men, "You come later every day, I am always at home, and you come to drink tea." With a gentle and sweet smile, so that the other party is very serious, bow to her with a solemn expression, as if this matter is of great importance, strange and extraordinary, people should respect it, and must not take it lightly. -------- ① Stael was a French literati and publisher (1814-1886). The flowers in Mrs. Swann's living room are not only decorative. In addition to the above reasons, there is another reason that has nothing to do with the times and is only related to Odette's old life.She had been a courtesan and spent most of her time with her lover, that is to say in her home, so she had to arrange her own home.What is seen in a respectable woman's home, and is considered important by a respectable woman, is even more important to a courtesan.The peak moment of her day is not to dress up for others to watch, but to undress and have a tryst with a man.Whether she's in dressing gown or pajamas, she has to look as good as she does when she goes out.Other women show off their jewelry, but she keeps it in her inner room.This type of life demands and accustoms one to a secret, almost careless luxury.This luxury of Madame Swan also extended to flowers and plants.Next to her easy chair there was always a huge crystal glass basin full of Palma pansies or daisies with their petals scattered in the water.The pots seemed to prove to visitors that it was a pastime she liked - just as she liked drinking tea alone, only to be interrupted by unexpected visitors.This pastime is even more intimate and mysterious than drinking tea.Therefore, when the visitor sees the flowers displayed beside her, he cannot help wanting to apologize to her, as if he had turned over the title of Odette's unclosed book, which would reveal what she was reading, or That is to say what she is thinking at the moment.Besides, flowers have more life than books.People went into the living room to visit her and were disturbed to find that she was not alone; people went home with her and were disturbed to see that the living room was not empty.These flowers occupy a mysterious place in the drawing room, and they are intimately connected with the life of the unknown mistress.They are not reserved for visitors, but are there as if forgotten by Odette.They had been and are confiding with Odette, so that one dreaded disturbing them, while staring at the lavender Parma pansies, like diluted watercolors, in vain attempts to gain insight into them.From the end of October, Odette tried to come home on time for tea, which was still called fiveo Eclockter (five o'clock tea), because Odette had heard (and liked to repeat to others) that Madame Verdurin's salon was just In order to tell others that she must be home at this hour.Odette also wanted to open a salon, of the same type as the Verdurin salon, but more free, in her words, senzarigore ①.It was therefore as if she were Mademoiselle de Lespinas, who took the most agreeable men, especially Swann, from Madame di Defond in the small group, so that she could set up a new family.In a way, Swann had followed her throughout her separatist activities and seclusion, but although she could easily convince her new friends who did not know the past, she herself was not convinced.Yet when we like certain characters, we play them again and again in public and rehearse them in private, so often we think of their illusory witnesses, and the reality is almost forgotten.斯万夫人整天在家时，穿着双绉丝便袍，它如初雪一般洁白纯净，有时穿着百褶薄纱长袍，上面洒满了粉色和白色的花瓣。今天，人们可能认为这身装束与冬天不相称，其实不然。这些轻盈的丝绸和柔和的色彩使她（那时的客厅挂有门帘，十分闷热，描写沙龙生活的小说家当时最高的褒词便是“舒舒服服地垫得厚厚的”）像她身边那些仿佛冬去春来裸露出肉红色的玫瑰花一样显得娇弱畏寒。地毯使脚步声难以觉察，女主人又隐坐在客厅一角，毫不觉察你的到来，因此，当你来到她面前时，她仍在埋头看书，这增加了浪漫性，增加了魅力——仿佛突然发现奥秘，至今我们记忆犹新。斯万夫人穿的便袍当时已不时新，大概只有她还仍然穿着它们，因此仿佛是小说中的人物（只有亨利·格雷维③的小说中才见过这种便袍）。此刻是初冬，奥黛特客厅里硕大的菊花万紫千红，这是斯万从前未在她的寓所见过的。我赞赏它们——当我闷闷不乐地拜访斯万夫人时，我的失意使这位希尔贝特的母亲具有浓厚的神秘诗意，因为她第二天会对女儿说：“你的朋友来看我了”——可能是由于那些菊花或是和路易十五式丝椅垫一样呈浅粉色，或是和她的双绉睡袍一样雪白，或是和她的茶炊具一样呈铜红色，它们给客厅的布置又加上一层装饰，这层装饰也同样艳丽高雅，但却具有生命，而且只能持续几天。使我尤为感动的是，与十一月黄昏薄雾中的夕阳所放射的绚丽的红色或深褐色相比，菊花的颜色并非转瞬即逝，它持续的时闻更长。我看见阳光在空中暗淡下去，我跨进斯万夫人家，发现阳光再现，转移到菊花那火焰般的色彩上。这些菊花仿佛是高超的彩色画家从瞬息万变的大气和阳光中猎取来装点住宅的光彩一样，它们敦促我抛开深沉的忧郁，利用喝茶的这个小时去贪婪地享受十一月份短暂的乐趣（这乐趣闪烁在我身旁那亲切而神秘的菊花光辉之中）。可惜，我所听见的谈话并不能使我达到这光辉，谈话与光辉毫无共同之处。时光不早，但是斯万夫人温柔地对戈达尔夫人说：“啊不，还早呢，别瞧钟，还不到时间，钟也不准。您有什么事要急着走呢？”同时又朝并未放下小皮夹的教授夫人递去一小块馅饼。 -------- ①意大利文：无拘束。 ②德·莱斯比纳斯，迪·德方都是十八世纪著名沙龙的女主人。 ③亨利·格雷维，法国女小说家（1842—1902），作品情节曲折，以俄罗斯为背景。 “要从这里出去可不容易。”邦当夫人对斯万夫人说。这句话表达了戈达尔夫人的感想，她惊奇地大声说：“可不是，我的小脑瓜里也总是这么想的。”她的话得到赛马俱乐部先生们的赞成。当斯万夫人将他们介绍给这位毫不可爱、平庸无奇的矮女人时，他们仿佛受宠若惊，一再致敬，而戈达尔夫人对奥黛特显赫的朋友也十分谨慎，用她的话说，“严阵以待。”（她喜欢用高雅的字句来表述最简单的事物）“您瞧瞧，连着三个礼拜三您都失约。”斯万夫人对戈达尔夫人说。“可不是，奥黛特，有多少个世纪、多长的日子我们没见面了。我这不是认罪了吗？不过，您知道，”她用一种过分腼腆和含糊的神气说（虽然是医生的夫人，她谈起风湿病或肾绞痛来也不直截了当），“我遇到不少小麻烦。各人都有难念的经嘛！我的男仆中出了一场风波，其实我并不比别的女人更看重权威，但是，我不得不辞退膳食总管，以示警戒，他也正想找一个更赚钱的工作。他这一走几乎引起内阁全体辞职，连我的贴身侍女也不愿意留下，那场面可以和荷马媲美。不过，我终于掌稳了舵，这个教训使我获益匪浅。瞧，我用这些仆人们的琐事来使您厌烦。您也知道，不得已进行人员调整，这是多么伤脑筋的事。您那位漂亮女儿不在家？”她问道。“不，我那位漂亮女儿在女友家吃饭，”斯万夫人回答，同时转身对我说：“我以为她给您写过信，让您明天来看她哩。”接着又对教授夫人说：“您的婴儿怎么样？”我长长地舒了一口气。斯万夫人的话向我证明，只要我愿意我就可以和希尔贝特见面，而这正是我前来寻找的安慰，正因为如此，我这段时期的访问成为必不可少的。“没有，我今晚给她写几个字。再说，希尔贝特和我再不能见面了。”我说话的语气仿佛将这分离归结为某个神秘原因，这样一来，我可以保持爱情的幻想，我谈到希尔贝特和她谈到我时的温柔口吻使这幻想不至于破灭。 “您知道她十分爱您。您明天真的不来？”斯万夫人说。一阵喜悦突然使我飞了起来，我心里想：“为什么不来呢？既然是她母亲亲自请我？”但我立刻堕入忧愁之中。我担心希尔贝特看到我时会认为我最近的冷淡是伪装的，因此我宁愿继续不见面。在个别交谈中，邦当夫人抱怨说她讨厌政治家的夫人们，并且装腔作势地说所有的人都可厌和可笑，她为她丈夫的地位感到遗憾。 “这么说，您可以一口气接待五十位医生夫人？”她对戈达尔夫人说，因为后者对谁都和蔼可亲，认真履行义务。“啊，您是有美德的人。我嘛，在部里，当然我必须接待。哎！那些官太太，您知道，真没办法，我没法不法不对她们伸舌头。我的外甥女阿尔贝蒂娜也和我一样。您不知道这小姑娘有多冒失。上星期我的接待日那天，来了一位财政部次长的夫人，她说她对烹调一窍不通。我那位外甥女露出最美妙的微笑回答说：'可是，夫人，您肯定知道烹调是怎么回事，因为令尊大人刷过盘子。'” “啊！我真喜欢这故事，妙极了！”斯万夫人说，接着又向戈达尔夫人建议道：“医生出诊的日子，您至少能享受一下可爱的家，和花草书本及您喜欢的东西作伴吧。” “就这样，她直截了当地给了那位女士两下，砰，砰，她可不含糊。事先一点风也不透，这个小坏蛋，象猴子一样机灵。您是幸运者，您能克制自己，我特别羡慕那些善于掩饰思想的人。” “我并不需要这样做，夫人，我这人很随和。”戈达尔夫人轻声说，“首先，我没有您这样的特权地位，”她略略提高声音。每当她在谈话中塞进微妙的殷勤和灵巧的恭维，以博得好感并有益于丈夫的事业时，她总是这样略略抬高声音以增强效果的，“其次，我对教授是鞠躬尽瘁的。” “不过，夫人，问题不在于愿意不愿意，而在于能够不能够。您大概不属于神经质的人。而我，一看见国防部部长夫人装模作样，我就禁不住模仿她。我这脾气真糟糕。” “啊！对了，”戈达尔夫人说，“听说她有抽搐的毛病。我丈夫还认识一位地位很高的人，当然，这些先生们私下议论起来……” “对了，夫人，正像那位驼背的礼宾司司长。他每次来，不到五分钟我必定要碰碰他的驼背。我丈夫说我会让他丢了差事，有什么办法呢，让他的部见鬼去吧！对，让他的部见鬼去吧！我该把这句话印在信纸上作为座右铭。我这样说一定使您听着刺耳吧，您是位和气的人，而我，我承认，我喜欢小小的恶作剧，不然生活就太单调了。” 她一个劲地谈论丈夫的部，仿佛它曾是奥林匹斯似的。为了转移话题，斯万夫人转身对戈达尔夫人说： “您看上去真漂亮。是勒德弗商店做的？” “不，您知道，我是罗德尼兹商店的信徒，再说，这是改的。” “是吗，挺有派头！” “您猜多少钱？……不，第一位数不对。” “怎么，这么便宜，简直是白给的。人家告诉我的比这要贵三倍。” “人们就是这样写历史的。”医生的妻子回答说。接着她指着斯万夫人送她的围脖缎带说道：“您瞧，奥黛特，您还认得吗？” 门帘掀开了一半，伸进一个脑袋，他毕恭毕敬、彬彬有礼，戏谑地假装唯恐打扰众人，这是斯万。“奥黛特，阿格里让特亲王正在我的书房，他问能不能来看看你。我该怎样回答他呢？”“我很乐意。”奥黛特显然满意地说，但脸色平静。这很自然，因为她曾接待过高雅人士（即使在她当交际花的时期）。斯万将这个批准令带去给亲王。如果不是在这个空隙里维尔迪兰夫人走了进来，他就要领着亲王回到妻子身边。 斯万和奥黛特结婚时，曾要求她不再和那个小集团来往（他这样做当然有许多理由，而且，即使没有理由，他也会这样做，因为忘恩负义是一条规律，它容不得例外，它更证明了这一点：所有牵线搭桥的中间人不是缺乏远见就是毫无私心）。他只允许奥黛特和维尔迪兰夫人每年互访两次。“女主人”的某些信徒十分气愤，认为这未免太过分，为她鸣不平，因为多年以来，奥黛特，甚至斯万，一直被她视为上宾。小集团中诚然有虚情假意的兄弟，他们不去维尔迪兰夫人家，而是偷偷地赴奥黛特的约会，而且，万一事情泄露，他们便借口说想见见贝戈特（尽管“女主人”说贝戈特不去斯万家，又说他毫无才华可言，但她仍然想方设法——用她的话说——吸引他），但小集团中也有“过激分子”，他们对妥善的个别处理方式（它往往使当事人避免采取极端态度来对待某人）一窃不通，而是盼望维尔迪兰夫人与奥黛特一刀两断（这个愿望当然落空），使奥黛特从此再不能得意洋洋地笑着说：“自从分裂出来，我们很少去'女主人'家。我丈夫还是单身汉时，去她家比较容易，可是结婚以后就不那么容易了……说老实话，斯万先生受不了维尔迪兰大妈，所以他也不愿意我和她经常来往。而我呢，作为忠实的妻子……”斯万陪同妻子出席维尔迪兰家的晚会，但是当维尔迪兰来看奥黛特时，他往往回避。因此，如果“女主人”在座，他就让阿格里让特亲王一个人进去。奥黛特单独将亲王介绍给维尔迪兰夫人，她不愿意维尔迪兰夫人在这里听见默默无闻的姓氏，而愿意让她看到许多陌生面孔，从而自认为置身于贵族名流之中。奥黛特的这番算计十分奏效，维尔迪兰夫人当晚便带着鄙夷的神气对丈夫说：“她的朋友们真可爱，的确是反动势力的精华！”