In Search of Lost Time, Volume II_ Within a Budding Grove - Marcel Proust [102]
“Oh, I do love that story; I think it’s simply exquisite!” cried Mme Swann. “But certainly for the Doctor’s consultation days you should make a point of having a little home, with your flowers and books and all your pretty things,” she urged Mme Cottard.
“Straight out like that! Slap-bang, right in the face! She made no bones about it, I can tell you! And she didn’t give me a word of warning, the little minx; she’s as cunning as a monkey. You’re lucky to be able to hold yourself back; I do envy people who can hide what’s in their minds.” “But I’ve no need to do that, Mme Bontemps, I’m not so hard to please,” Mme Cottard gently expostulated. “For one thing, I’m not in such a privileged position as you,” she went on, slightly raising her voice as was her custom, as though to underline the remark, whenever she slipped into the conversation one of those delicate courtesies, those skilful flatteries which won her the admiration and assisted the career of her husband. “And besides I’m only too glad to do anything that can be of use to the Professor.”
“But Madame, it’s what one is able to do! I expect you’re not highly strung. Do you know, whenever I see the War Minister’s wife grimacing, I start imitating her at once. It’s a dreadful thing to have a temperament like mine.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mme Cottard, “I’ve heard that she had a twitch. My husband knows someone else who occupies a very high position, and it’s only natural, when these gentlemen get talking together . . .”
“And then you know, it’s just the same with the Head of Protocol, who’s a hunchback. He has only to be in my house five minutes before my fingers are itching to stroke his hump. I can’t help it. My husband says I’ll cost him his place. What if I do! Pooh to the Ministry! Yes, pooh to the Ministry! I should like to have that printed as a motto on my notepaper. I can see I’m shocking you; you’re so good, but I must say there’s nothing amuses me like a little devilry now and then. Life would be dreadfully monotonous without it.”
And she went on talking about the Ministry all the time, as though it had been Mount Olympus. To change the subject, Mme Swann turned to Mme Cottard: “But you’re looking very elegant today. Redfern fecit?”
“No, you know I always swear by Raudnitz. Besides, it’s only an old thing I’ve had done up.”
“Well, well! it’s really smart!”
“Guess how much . . . No, change the first figure!”
“You don’t say so! Why, it’s dirt cheap, it’s a gift! Three times that at least, I was told.”
“That’s how history comes to be written,” concluded the doctor’s wife. And pointing to a neck-ribbon which had been a present from Mme Swann: “Look, Odette! Do you recognise it?”
Through the gap between a pair of curtains a head peeped with ceremonious deference, making a playful pretence of being afraid of disturbing the party: it was Swann. “Odette, the Prince d’Agrigente is with me in my study and wants to know if he may pay his respects to you. What am I to tell him?” “Why, that I shall be delighted,” Odette replied, secretly flattered but without losing anything of the composure which came to her all the more easily since she had always, even as a cocotte, been accustomed to entertain men of fashion. Swann disappeared to deliver the message, to return presently with the Prince, unless in the meantime Mme Verdurin had arrived.
When he married Odette Swann had insisted on her ceasing to frequent the little clan. (He had several good reasons for this stipulation, and even if he had had none, would have made it none the less in obedience to a law of ingratitude which admits of no exception and proves that every