Illuminated, as
though by a row of footlights, in the new surroundings in which it now
appeared, that word 'marble,' which he had lost the power to distinguish,
so often had it passed, in print, beneath his eyes, had suddenly become
visible once again, and had at once brought back to his mind the story
which Odette had told him, long ago, of a visit which she had paid to the
Salon at the Palais d'Industrie with Mme. Verdurin, who had said to her,
"Take care, now! I know how to melt you, all right. You're not made of
marble." Odette had assured him that it was only a joke, and he had not
attached any importance to it at the time. But he had had more confidence
in her then than he had now. And the anonymous letter referred explicitly
to relations of that sort. Without daring to lift his eyes to the
newspaper, he opened it, turned the page so as not to see again the words,
_Filles de Marbre_, and began to read mechanically the news from the
provinces. There had been a storm in the Channel, and damage was reported
from Dieppe, Cabourg, Beuzeval.... Suddenly he recoiled again in horror.
The name of Beuzeval had suggested to him that of another place in the
same district, Beuzeville, which carried also, bound to it by a hyphen, a
second name, to wit Breaute, which he had often seen on maps, but without
ever previously remarking that it was the same name as that borne by his
friend M.
Pages:
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702