In Search of Lost Time, Volume I_ Swann's Way - Marcel Proust [209]
“Why, you of all people ought to know that it’s true,” replied the Princesse des Laumes, “since you must have asked him a hundred times, and he’s never been to your house once.”
And leaving her cousin mortified, she burst out laughing again, scandalising everyone who was trying to listen to the music, but attracting the attention of Mme de Saint-Euverte, who had stayed, out of politeness, near the piano, and now caught sight of the Princess for the first time. Mme de Saint-Euverte was all the more delighted to see Mme des Laumes as she imagined her to be still at Guermantes, looking after her sick father-in-law.
“My dear Princess, you here?”
“Yes, I tucked myself away in a corner, and I’ve been hearing such lovely things.”
“What, you’ve been here for quite a time?”
“Oh, yes, a very long time which seemed very short, long only because I couldn’t see you.”
Mme de Saint-Euverte offered her own chair to the Princess, who declined it, saying:
“Oh, please, no! Why should you? I don’t mind in the least where I sit.” And deliberately picking out, the better to display the simplicity of a really great lady, a low seat without a back: “There now, that pouf, that’s all I need. It will make me keep my back straight. Oh! good heavens, I’m making a noise again; they’ll be telling you to have me chucked out.”
Meanwhile, the pianist having redoubled his speed, the musical excitement was at its height, a servant was handing refreshments round on a salver, and was making the spoons rattle, and, as happened every week, Mme de Saint-Euverte was making unavailing signs to him to go away. A recent bride, who had been told that a young woman ought never to appear bored, was smiling vigorously, trying to catch her hostess’s eye so as to flash her a look of gratitude for having “thought of her” in connexion with so delightful an entertainment. However, although she remained calmer than Mme de Franquetot, it was not without some uneasiness that she followed the flying fingers, the object of her concern being not the pianist but the piano, on which a lighted candle, jumping at each fortissimo, threatened, if not to set its shade on fire, at least to spill wax upon the rosewood. At last she could contain herself no longer, and, running up the two steps of the platform on which the piano stood, flung herself on the candle to adjust its sconce. But scarcely had her hand come within reach of it when, on a final chord, the piece came to an end and the pianist rose to his feet. Nevertheless the bold initiative shown by this young woman and the brief promiscuity between her and the instrumentalist which resulted from it, produced a generally favourable impression.
“Did you see what that girl did just now, Princess?” asked General de Froberville, who had come up to Mme des Laumes as her hostess left her for a moment. “Odd, wasn’t it? Is she one of the performers?”
“No, she’s a little Mme de Cambremer,” replied the Princess without thinking, and then added hurriedly: “I’m only repeating what I’ve heard—I haven’t the faintest notion who she is; someone behind me said that they were neighbours of Mme de Saint-Euverte in the country, but I don’t believe anyone knows them, really. They must be ‘country cousins’! By the way, I don’t know whether you’re particularly familiar with the brilliant society which we see before us, because I’ve no idea who all these astonishing people can be. What do you suppose they do with themselves when they’re not at Mme de Saint-Euverte’s parties? She must have ordered them along with the musicians and the chairs and the food. ‘Universal providers,’ you know. You must admit they’re rather splendid, General. But can she really have the heart to hire the same ‘supers’ every week? It isn’t possible!”
“Oh, but Cambremer is quite a good name—old, too,” protested the General.
“I see no objection to its being old,” the Princess answered dryly, “but whatever else it is it’s not euphonious,” she went on, isolating the word