Marcel Proust - In Search of Lost Time [volumes 1 to 7]

Marcel Proust

★

★

★

★

À la Recherche du temps perdu

Translated from the French by

C. K. Scott Moncrieff and

Stephen Hudson

Swann’s Way Marcel Proust IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME ★

Overture swann’s way

Combray swann’s way

Swann in Love swann’s way

Place-Names: The Name swann’s way

Within a Budding Grove Marcel Proust IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME ★

Seascape, with Frieze of Girls within a budding grove

Dinners at Rivebelle—Enter Albertine.

Madame Swann at Home within a budding grove

A break in the narrative: old friends in new aspects—The Marquis de Norpois—Bergotte—How I cease for the time being to see Gilberte: a general outline of the sorrow caused by a parting and of the irregular process of oblivion.

Place-Names: The Place

My first visit to Balbec—First impressions of M. de Charlus and of Robert de Saint-Loup—Dinner with Bloch and his family.

The Guermantes Way

Chapter One

Names of People: The Duchesse de Guermantes—Saint-Loup at Doncières—Mme. de Villeparisis at home—My grandmother’s illness—Bergotte’s illness—The Duke and the Doctor—Decline and death of my grandmother.

Chapter Two

A visit from Albertine—Prospect of rich brides for certain friends of Saint-Loup—The wit of the Guermantes, as displayed before the Princesse de Parme—A strange visit to M. de Charlus—His character puzzles me more and more—The red shoes of the Duchess.

Cities of the Plain

Introduction

Introducing the men-women, descendants of those of the inhabitants of Sodom who were spared by the fire from heaven.

Chapter One

M. de Charlus in Society.—A physician.—Typical physiognomy of Mme. de Vaugoubert.—Mme. d’Arpajon, the Hubert Robert fountain and the merriment of the Grand Duke Vladimir.—Mmes. d’Amoncourt, de Citri, de Saint-Euverte, etc.—Curious conversation between Swann and the Prince de Guermantes.—Albertine on the telephone.—My social life in the interval before my second and final visit to Balbec. Arrival at Balbec.

The Heart’s Intermissions

Chapter Two

The mysteries of Albertine—The girls whom she sees reflected in the glass—The other woman—The lift-boy—Madame de Cambremer.

Chapter Two (continued)

The pleasures of M. Nissim Bernard—Outline of the strange character of Morel—M. de Charlus dines with the Verdurins.

Chapter Three

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

Chapter Four

Sudden revulsion in favour of Albertine.—Agony at sunrise.—I set off at once with Albertine for Paris.

The Captive

Chapter One

Life with Albertine

Chapter Two

The Verdurins Quarrel with M. De Charlus

Chapter Two (continued)

Chapter Three

Flight of Albertine

The Sweet Cheat Gone

Chapter One

Grief and Oblivion

Chapter Two

Mademoiselle De Forcheville

Chapter Three

Venice

Chapter Four

A Fresh Light Upon Robert De Saint-Loup

Time Regained

Chapter One

Tansonville

Chapter Two

M. de Charlus during the war, his opinions, his pleasures

Chapter Three

An afternoon party at the house of the Princesse de Guermantes

Marcel Proust

IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME

★

★

À la Recherche du temps perdu:

Du côté de chez Swann

Translated from the French by

C. K. Scott Moncrieff

swann’s way

F or a long time I used to go to bed early. Sometimes, when I had put out my candle, my eyes would close so quickly that I had not even time to say “I’m going to sleep.” And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I imagined, was still in my hands, and to blow out the light; I had been thinking all the time, while I was asleep, of what I had just been reading, but my thoughts had run into a channel of their own, until I myself seemed actually to have become the subject of my book: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between François I and Charles V. This impression would persist for some moments after I was awake; it did not disturb my mind, but it lay like scales upon my eyes and prevented them from registering the fact that the candle was no longer burning. Then it would begin to seem unintelligible, as the thoughts of a former existence must be to a reincarnate spirit; the subject of my book would separate itself from me, leaving me free to choose whether I would form part of it or no; and at the same time my sight would return and I would be astonished to find myself in a state of darkness, pleasant and restful enough for the eyes, and even more, perhaps, for my mind, to which it appeared incomprehensible, without a cause, a matter dark indeed.

I would ask myself what o’clock it could be; I could hear the whistling of trains, which, now nearer and now farther off, punctuating the distance like the note of a bird in a forest, shewed me in perspective the deserted countryside through which a traveller would be hurrying towards the nearest station: the path that he followed being fixed for ever in his memory by the general excitement due to being in a strange place, to doing unusual things, to the last words of conversation, to farewells exchanged beneath an unfamiliar lamp which echoed still in his ears amid the silence of the night; and to the delightful prospect of being once again at home.

I would lay my cheeks gently against the comfortable cheeks of my pillow, as plump and blooming as the cheeks of babyhood. Or I would strike a match to look at my watch. Nearly midnight. The hour when an invalid, who has been obliged to start on a journey and to sleep in a strange hotel, awakens in a moment of illness and sees with glad relief a streak of daylight shewing under his bedroom door. Oh, joy of joys! it is morning. The servants will be about in a minute: he can ring, and some one will come to look after him. The thought of being made comfortable gives him strength to endure his pain. He is certain he heard footsteps: they come nearer, and then die away. The ray of light beneath his door is extinguished. It is midnight; some one has turned out the gas; the last servant has gone to bed, and he must lie all night in agony with no one to bring him any help.

I would fall asleep, and often I would be awake again for short snatches only, just long enough to hear the regular creaking of the wainscot, or to open my eyes to settle the shifting kaleidoscope of the darkness, to savour, in an instantaneous flash of perception, the sleep which lay heavy upon the furniture, the room, the whole surroundings of which I formed but an insignificant part and whose unconsciousness I should very soon return to share. Or, perhaps, while I was asleep I had returned without the least effort to an earlier stage in my life, now for ever outgrown; and had come under the thrall of one of my childish terrors, such as that old terror of my great-uncle’s pulling my curls, which was effectually dispelled on the day—the dawn of a new era to me—on which they were finally cropped from my head. I had forgotten that event during my sleep; I remembered it again immediately I had succeeded in making myself wake up to escape my great-uncle’s fingers; still, as a measure of precaution, I would bury the whole of my head in the pillow before returning to the world of dreams.