But, above
all, I set between them, far more distinctly than the mere distance in
miles and yards and inches which separated one from the other, the
distance that there was between the two parts of my brain in which I used
to think of them, one of those distances of the mind which time serves
only to lengthen, which separate things irremediably from one another,
keeping them for ever upon different planes. And this distinction was
rendered still more absolute because the habit we had of never going both
ways on the same day, or in the course of the same walk, but the
'Meseglise way' one time and the 'Guermantes way' another, shut them up,
so to speak, far apart and unaware of each other's existence, in the
sealed vessels--between which there could be no communication--of separate
afternoons.
When we had decided to go the 'Meseglise way' we would start (without
undue haste, and even if the sky were clouded over, since the walk was not
very long, and did not take us too far from home), as though we were not
going anywhere in particular, by the front-door of my aunt's house, which
opened on to the Rue du Saint-Esprit.
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