"You don't suppose she'll die, your mother," exclaimed Mme. Verdurin
bitterly, "if you don't have dinner with her on New Year's Day, like
people in the _provinces_!"
Her uneasiness was kindled again in Holy Week: "Now you, Doctor, you're a
sensible, broad-minded man; you'll come, of course, on Good Friday, just
like any other day?" she said to Cottard in the first year of the little
'nucleus,' in a loud and confident voice, as though there could be no
doubt of his answer. But she trembled as she waited for it, for if he did
not come she might find herself condemned to dine alone.
"I shall come on Good Friday--to say good-bye to you, for we are going to
spend the holidays in Auvergne."
"In Auvergne? To be eaten by fleas and all sorts of creatures! A fine lot
of good that will do you!" And after a solemn pause: "If you had only told
us, we would have tried to get up a party, and all gone there together,
comfortably."
And so, too, if one of the 'faithful' had a friend, or one of the ladies a
young man, who was liable, now and then, to make them miss an evening, the
Verdurins, who were not in the least afraid of a woman's having a lover,
provided that she had him in their company, loved him in their company and
did not prefer him to their company, would say: "Very well, then, bring
your friend along.
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