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Proust, Marcel, 1871-1922

"Swann's Way"

A breath of wind
dispersed them; the stone grew dark again, but, like tamed creatures, they
returned; they began, imperceptibly, to grow lighter, and by one of those
continuous crescendos, such as, in music, at the end of an overture, carry
a single note to the extreme fortissimo, making it pass rapidly through
all the intermediate stages, I saw it attain to that fixed, unalterable
gold of fine days, on which the sharply cut shadows of the wrought iron of
the balustrade were outlined in black like a capricious vegetation, with a
fineness in the delineation of their smallest details which seemed to
indicate a deliberate application, an artist's satisfaction, and with so
much relief, so velvety a bloom in the restfulness of their sombre and
happy mass that in truth those large and leafy shadows which lay reflected
on that lake of sunshine seemed aware that they were pledges of happiness
and peace of mind.
Brief, fading ivy, climbing, fugitive flora, the most colourless, the most
depressing, to many minds, of all that creep on walls or decorate windows;
to me the dearest of them all, from the day when it appeared upon our
balcony, like the very shadow of the presence of Gilberte, who was perhaps
already in the Champs-Elysees, and as soon as I arrived there would greet
me with: "Let's begin at once.


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