Swann had brought specially; cherries, the first to
come from the cherry-tree, which had yielded none for the last two years;
a cream cheese, of which in those days I was extremely fond; an almond
cake, because she had ordered one the evening before; a fancy loaf,
because it was our turn to 'offer' the holy bread. And when all these had
been eaten, a work composed expressly for ourselves, but dedicated more
particularly to my father, who had a fondness for such things, a cream of
chocolate, inspired in the mind, created by the hand of Francoise, would
be laid before us, light and fleeting as an 'occasional piece' of music,
into which she had poured the whole of her talent. Anyone who refused to
partake of it, saying: "No, thank you, I have finished; I am not hungry,"
would at once have been lowered to the level of the Philistines who, when
an artist makes them a present of one of his works, examine its weight and
material, whereas what is of value is the creator's intention and his
signature. To have left even the tiniest morsel in the dish would have
shewn as much discourtesy as to rise and leave a concert hall while the
'piece' was still being played, and under the composer's-very eyes.
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