And Swann it was who, before she allowed her face, as
though despite her efforts, to fall upon his lips, held it back for a
moment longer, at a little distance between his hands. He had intended to
leave time for her mind to overtake her body's movements, to recognise the
dream which she had so long cherished and to assist at its realisation,
like a mother invited as a spectator when a prize is given to the child
whom she has reared and loves. Perhaps, moreover, Swann himself was fixing
upon these features of an Odette not yet possessed, not even kissed by
him, on whom he was looking now for the last time, that comprehensive gaze
with which, on the day of his departure, a traveller strives to bear away
with him in memory the view of a country to which he may never return.
But he was so shy in approaching her that, after this evening which had
begun by his arranging her cattleyas and had ended in her complete
surrender, whether from fear of chilling her, or from reluctance to
appear, even retrospectively, to have lied, or perhaps because he lacked
the audacity to formulate a more urgent requirement than this (which could
always be repeated, since it had not annoyed her on the first occasion),
he resorted to the same pretext on the following days.
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