Sodom and Gomorrah by Marcel Proust;William C. Carter;

Author:Marcel Proust;William C. Carter;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yale University Press
Published: 2021-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

The sorrows of M. de Charlus—His sham duel—The stations on the “Transatlantic”—Weary of Albertine, I decide to break with her

I was dropping with sleep. I was taken up to my floor not by the liftboy but by the squinting page, who to make conversation informed me that his sister was still with the monsieur who was so rich, and that, on one occasion, when she had made up her mind to return home instead of sticking to her business, her monsieur had paid a visit to the mother of the squinting page and of the other more fortunate children, who had very soon made the silly creature return to her protector. “You know, Monsieur, she’s a grande dame, my sister is. She plays the piano, she talks Spanish. And you would never take her for the sister of the humble employee who brings you up in the elevator, she denies herself nothing; Madame has a maid to herself, I wouldn’t be surprised if one day she keeps her carriage. She is very pretty, if you could see her, a little too high and mighty, but, good Lord! You can understand that. She’s full of fun. She never leaves a hotel without relieving herself first in a wardrobe or a drawer, just to leave a little keepsake with the chambermaid who will have to wipe it up. Sometimes she does it in a carriage, and after she’s paid her fare, she’ll hide behind a tree, and she doesn’t half laugh when the coachman finds he’s got to clean his carriage after her. My father had another stroke of luck when he found my young brother that Indian Prince he used to know long ago. It’s not the same style of thing, of course. But it’s a superb position. If it weren’t for the traveling, it would be a dream. I’m the only one still on the shelf. But you never know. We’re a lucky family; perhaps one day I will be President of the Republic. But I’m keeping you talking” (I had not uttered a single word and was beginning to fall asleep as I listened to the flow of his). “Goodnight, Monsieur. Oh! Thank you, Monsieur. If everybody had as kind a heart as you, there wouldn’t be any poor people left. But, as my sister says, ‘there will always have to be the poor so that now I’m rich I can shit on them.’ You’ll pardon the expression. Goodnight, Monsieur.”

Perhaps every night we accept the risk of experiencing, while we are asleep, sufferings that we regard as null and void because they will be felt in the course of a sleep that we suppose to be unconscious. And indeed, on these evenings when I came back late from La Raspelière I was very sleepy. But after the weather turned cold I could not get to sleep at once, for the fire lighted up the room as though there were a lamp burning in it. Only it was nothing

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