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Proust, Marcel, 1871-1922

"Swann's Way"

I noticed before his door a carriage and pair, with
red carnations on the horses' blinkers and in the coachman's buttonhole.
As I climbed the staircase I could hear laughter and a woman's voice, and,
as soon as I had rung, silence and the sound of shutting doors. The
man-servant who let me in appeared embarrassed, and said that my uncle was
extremely busy and probably could not see me; he went in, however, to
announce my arrival, and the same voice I had heard before said: "Oh, yes!
Do let him come in; just for a moment; it will be so amusing. Is that his
photograph there, on your desk? And his mother (your niece, isn't she?)
beside it? The image of her, isn't he? I should so like to see the little
chap, just for a second."
I could hear my uncle grumbling and growing angry; finally the manservant
told me to come in.
On the table was the same plate of marchpanes that was always there; my
uncle wore the same alpaca coat as on other days; but opposite to him, in
a pink silk dress with a great necklace of pearls about her throat, sat a
young woman who was just finishing a tangerine. My uncertainty whether I
ought to address her as Madame or Mademoiselle made me blush, and not
daring to look too much in her direction, in case I should be obliged to
speak to her, I hurried across to kiss my uncle.


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