I need only, to make them
reappear, pronounce the names: Balbec, Venice, Florence, within whose
syllables had gradually accumulated all the longing inspired in me by the
places for which they stood. Even in spring, to come in a book upon the
name of Balbec sufficed to awaken in me the desire for storms at sea and
for the Norman gothic; even on a stormy day the name of Florence or of
Venice would awaken the desire for sunshine, for lilies, for the Palace of
the Doges and for Santa Maria del Fiore.
But if their names thus permanently absorbed the image that I had formed
of these towns, it was only by transforming that image, by subordinating
its reappearance in me to their own special laws; and in consequence of
this they made it more beautiful, but at the same time more different from
anything that the towns of Normandy or Tuscany could in reality be, and,
by increasing the arbitrary delights of my imagination, aggravated the
disenchantment that was in store for me when I set out upon my travels.
They magnified the idea that I formed of certain points on the earth's
surface, making them more special, and in consequence more real.
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