.."
"What balls?"
"Why, silly, the balls people give in Paris; the smart ones, I mean. Wait
now, Herbinger, you know who I mean, the fellow who's in one of the
jobbers' offices; yes, of course, you must know him, he's one of the
best-known men in Paris, that great big fair-haired boy who wears such
swagger clothes; he always has a flower in his buttonhole and a
light-coloured overcoat with a fold down the back; he goes about with that
old image, takes her to all the first-nights. Very well! He gave a ball
the other night, and all the smart people in Paris were there. I should
have loved to go! but you had to shew your invitation at the door, and I
couldn't get one anywhere. After all, I'm just as glad, now, that I didn't
go; I should have been killed in the crush, and seen nothing. Still, just
to be able to say one had been to Herbinger's ball. You know how vain I
am! However, you may be quite certain that half the people who tell you
they were there are telling stories.... But I am surprised that you
weren't there, a regular 'tip-topper' like you."
Swann made no attempt, however, to modify this conception of fashion;
feeling that his own came no nearer to the truth, was just as fatuous,
devoid of all importance, he saw no advantage to be gained by imparting it
to his mistress, with the result that, after a few months, she ceased to
take any interest in the people to whose houses he went, except when they
were the means of his obtaining tickets for the paddock at race-meetings
or first-nights at the theatre.
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