Original subtitles

= IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME =

= IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME = based on the works of MARCEL PROUST

Translated by selaflaure (selaflaure@gmail.com)

Hey! Hey! You're beautiful. Can we touch?

- Can we touch you? - I look pregnant.

- It's nice, but... - If it's pointed, it will be a boy.

Maybe twins.

- So? - Oh!

The key to the role, for me, is my mother.

A real Jewish mother, crazy about her son. Always worried.

It's true that it brings out the color of the eyes.

Smile a little to make sure it doesn't bother you.

A small blow-dry of eyebrows.

Alice, do I put my hat on?

- I'm Gilberte at 12 years old. - I, Gilberte at 15 years old.

And me, Gilberte at... Later than you two.

The director came in person to pick me up at the station.

It was the least thing.

I prize above all my titled clientele.

I understood that, in the darkness of his grammatical memory,

"titled" meant "regular".

You see a lack of politeness, I'm doing it in relation to the noise.

That way, you won't have anyone above you to exhaust your "attic".

It was the same room from my first stay.

My mother should join me after two days,

but being alone wouldn't hurt me.

I'm happy to see you again, sir.

To meet women at Balbec would be just as easy

as it had been difficult before,

as now I had as many relationships and support

as I had missed in the past.

= THE INTERMITTENCES OF THE HEART =

I had barely touched the first button of my boot...

For the first time since her death,

I found in an involuntary memory

the living reality of my grandmother.

I've often talked about her since then, and even thought of her,

but under my words and thoughts of an ungrateful, selfish and cruel young man,

there was nothing resembling my grandmother,

because disorders of the memory

are related to the intermittences of the heart.

I became again this being who wanted

to take refuge in his grandmother's arms,

and I had just learned that I had lost her forever.

Little by little,

I remembered all the opportunities I had seized

to cause her, with some insulting words,

a pain that I imagined being wiped out by my kisses,

as that day when Saint-Loup had photographed her.

I could never again erase that sadness on her face.

As soon as she arrived, my mother came down to this beach

which my grandmother had told her about every day in her letters.

She seemed to be looking for a dead woman

whom the waves must return to shore.

Your grandmother would not like to see you so unhappy.

My poor little one, you have to go out again.

You should see Albertine. I met her.

She told me so many nice things about mother and you.

I'll ask the manager to go look for her.

Miss Albertine is downstairs, sir.

Oh! This poor lady! This is her.

That day she twice felt very ill.

She said to me: "Above all, my grandson must not find out."

Then she sad: "If something happens to me,

"he should have a portrait of me.

"I've never had one done before."

At that moment, she didn't believe that she would come back from Balbec.

Do you feel unwell, sir?

You keep me here talking to you, while your visitor has arrived.

I have to go down.

With an impatience like hers, she may have gone.

Miss Albertine doesn't like to wait.

Go tell her, Françoise. I won't be able to see her today.

And then, one day,

my grandmother's photograph was sweet to look at.

After another few days,

I wanted to hear Albertine's laugh again.

I went as fast as I could, but she hadn't finished her hair.

If she doesn't stay one hour to pomade herself,

she doesn't stay 5 minutes. It'll smell like a perfumery in here.

She's coming. She stayed behind

to make some last adjustments in front of the mirror.

I tell you, my dear, that, contrary to my earlier plans,

I'll stay at Balbec the whole season.

Couldn't we, like the first year, see each other every day?

My little Albertine, at this moment, I'm still too sad.

If you like, I'd rather pick you up from time to time,

at the last moment, like in Paris.

If you ever feel pain in your heart, don't hesitate, call me.

I'll come at once. And I'll stay as long as you wish.

I'll write you the dates when I'll be gone

and the addresses of friends where I'll spend a few days.

In case you'll need me.

You? What are you doing here?

The train broke down. I'm waiting for it to leave.

- Come with us to the casino. - Oh, yes!

Not today, my little Albertine. I'm paying a visit.

As you wish. Come, girls.

The Verdurins had rented one of the castles of the Cambremers,

and they really wanted to see me.

In Paris, I never took advantage of their invitation.

What a nice surprise!

I came to Incarville for consultation, imagine!

I was getting ready to go and see Mme Verdurin, who has invited me several times,

but a train breakdown held me up here.

I'll take you there. I was getting ready to take the slow train again

to go to dinner.

I was told that the breakdown would take some time.

Should we enter the casino for a moment?

So here you are!

Look, Doctor, how well they dance. What a delight!

Parents are careless leaving their daughters to take on such habits.

I would not allow mine to come here.

Look at them.

I forgot my eyeglass and I can't see so well,

but they are certainly enjoying themselves.

And what isn't known is that especially through their breasts women experience it.

And, you see? Theirs are touching completely.

I'm going back to the hotel. I'll go to the Verdurins another day.

That day my cruel mistrust began to take consistency.

- Sometimes... - You know, I didn't find her.

If she comes back, I'll give her your message.

I waited until late, but Albertine didn't come.

Other times, I had her close to me

and she seemed in a hurry to leave me to go to another appointment.

I'm feeling bad. I beg you to stay with me.

It's impossible, my dear. This lady receives at 5 o'clock and I have to be there.

You can miss a visit for a sick friend.

This lady would be angry and make up stories for my aunt.

And then I made an appointment with friends at her place.

The air will do me good.

If you can't leave the lady,

I'll accompany you to her door, in Infreville.

Obviously, it bothers you that I accompany you.

You know that my greatest pleasure is to dine with you.

Why don't we go to the other side of Balbec?

I'm sick of Infreville and its green corners.

- Your aunt's friend will be angry. - She'll get over it.

I can go anytime, it'll be the same.

No, Albertine.

Go to your lady's house,

or whoever it is you're seeing, I don't care.

I won't go with you, because you don't want it.

Walking with me isn't what you want.

The proof is that all you did was to contradict yourself.

I change everything for an evening with you,

but you refuse, and it's still you who accuse me of lying?

You've made yourself clear. I'll leave. You're too mean today.

You have no confidence in me. It's very hurtful.

Look.

Bloch's sister and her little cousin Esther.

She's Bloch's sister who lives with that actress, Leah.

And she doesn't hide it, I can tell you.

I was told that last night they caused a huge scandal here.

They sat themselves on a couch,

no more embarrassed than if they'd been in bed.

And some people complained to the director.

Have they been sent away?

- Not even that. - Those Yids have millions.

I'm like Albertine. There's nothing that horrifies us like this.

The little blonde, isn't she the one who got the prize yesterday?

- In the race for flower cars? - I don't know.

Is there one who's blonde?

I tell you they don't interest me.

- I didn't even watch them. - They didn't watch us either.

Didn't they watch us? They watched us all the time.

You couldn't know. You turned your back on them.

And that one?

The Bloch girls are pretty, but look how they are dressed!

It's scary.

This is the opposite of the Angosnac girls.

Tomorrow, will we eat on the cliff or at the farm?

Let's ask Andrée and Albertine.

Tomorrow, will we eat on the cliff or at the farm?

We'll go to see M. Elstir.

Instead of going as a group,

it would be nice to see each other behind the little woods,

at the deserted cottage?

Frankly, I'm starting to find this life really stupid.

Mum blames me for doing nothing, and rightly so.

She asks me to at least read when I'm not working.

To visit the cottage next to the woods,

you can easily find other company.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye!

- Albertine, what are you doing? - Go home. I have to talk to him.

Let's go up to my room.

What do you have against me? What could I do?

The gulls are over the waves again, and now they're flying.

Don't change the subject. Be frank!

I'm going to tell you. I love Andrée. Passionately.

You know what love is, it's suffering.

And, maybe as a friend, would you have the heart to stop it?

- Look at this majestic flight. - He goes straight to the point.

What do you expect from me? Tell me!

- I'm sure you'll get angry. - I won't get angry.

I was told about you. What kind of life you live.

Despite the disgust women with the same vice inspire in me,

I didn't worry about it, until I was counted as your accomplice.

You can understand the pain I felt.

Who is that unknown slanderer? I want to see him and face him.

But you won't tell me.

If that were true, I would admit it to you.

Andrée and I have the same horror about such things.

We've not reached our age to please women

with short hair and male manners, nothing disgusts us more.

Thanks for that.

See how you torment yourself for no reason?

Our reconciliation is done. I'll never be harsh with you again.

You should go back for dinner. Your aunt will be angry.

She'll understand quite well.

Don't you feel good like this?

It was a caress she had never given me before.

To start with, I would not part my lips.

What a big bad guy you're making of yourself!

I should have left that night, without ever seeing her again.

The season was in full swing.

Balbec was now populated by young girls.

I would have wanted no woman to come to Balbec anymore.

What a scandal! What a shameful show for the young ones!

Quick! Let's find an empty compartment where I can kiss you all the way!

To prevent Albertine from staying at the casino without me,

I asked her that day to come with me to Doncières,

to see Saint-Loup again.

My young friend! Hello!

Baron...

Baron de Charlus,

Albertine Simonet, one of my young friends in Balbec.

Knowing I had to go and take the train to Paris,

my nephew Robert charged me to apologize to you if I saw you.

Your cable came too late to be able to take leave.

Now it's your turn do me a favour, to call this young soldier,

a relative of mine, who's the other side of the rails.

He's in the regimental band.

Lucky you are young, so that you can

spare me the displeasure of crossing.

I'll join you in the waiting room.

Oh! Gosh! Is it you, Morel?

You're in Doncières? How come?

If you happen to remember, I won the first violin prize at the Conservatory.

They put me in the band, on the drums.

I do remember. How's your dad? I heard he's unwell.

I'd like to hear some music tonight.

I'll give 500 francs per night.

Maybe that might be of interest to one of your friends,

if he's also into music.

- Goodbye, my dear. - Goodbye, sir.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

What amazed me was that, before leaving for Paris in 5 minutes,

the baron asked to hear music.

- The Paris train is announced, sir. - But I'm not taking the train!

Take my bags to left luggage, what the hell!

It came to me in a flash.

I understood that M. de Charlus didn't know Morel at all,

and that, for Morel, the offer of 500 francs

replaced the absence of previous relationships.

I beg your pardon for leaving you alone.

This young soldier that M. de Charlus knew,

I happen to know him too. His name is Charles Morel.

He's the son of my great-uncle's valet, recently deceased.

He visited me on that occasion.

Do you think I look like your poor grandmother?

I thought for a moment I was dreaming.

Is Albertine going with you to the Verdurins?

No.

She's spending a few days with her aunt, Mme Bontemps.

President Toureuil and his wife told me that they had lunch with Mme Bontemps.

A marriage between Albertine and you would be the dream of her aunt.

And you? What do you think about Albertine?

I can't tell you what I think about Albertine.

I have no opinion, but it'll be fine

if she's the one who makes you happy.

Good Heavens, that's what I call arriving on time!

Do you realize that, if we'd missed the train, Mme. Verdurin

would have caught sight of the carriages without us?

What a sight!

Brichot. Nice to meet you.

- Saniette. Nice to meet you. - Viradobetski. Call me Ski.

If it's your first time at Mme Verdurin, you'll see

that there is no place to better feel the pleasure of living.

Still nothing is known about the violinist?

He's probably still stuck in the theatre.

He's a young violinist serving near Doncières

who came 3 times a week to dinner at La Raspelière.

He had a leave 'til midnight.

The day before yesterday, he was expected.

But, for the first time, he didn't show up.

Talking about the young violinist,

I forgot, Cottard, to tell you about the great news.

Did you know that our poor room-mate,

Mme Verdurin's old favorite pianist, has just died?

It will be all the more frustrating for Mme Verdurin,

if the violinist skips tonight,

the more so because tonight she receives her neighbours for the first time,

who rented La Raspelière to them:

the Marquis and the Marquise de Cambremer.

The Marquis and the Marquise de Cambremer? Damn!

As beginners, you sure made a lucky hit!

It's going to be an exceptionally bright evening.

Although, between you and me, for the lady

it's a chore to receive the Cambremers.

Don't leave me alone with these Chinese people.

We must, on the contrary, be many to bear their boredom.

Of course we can't talk about anything that interests us.

It will be a failed Wednesday. What else!

At the Raspelière, as in Paris,

Mme Verdurin did not give dinner. She had Wednesdays.

How touching that the Verdurins sent for us to the station.

You are exaggerating. A simple politeness.

My friends!

Good that I've got my tuxedo, because I have such chic people!

I'm sorry for being in a suit.

It doesn't matter, come on. Here, it's a dinner for friends.

I'm speechless with admiration for the beauty of this land.

Ah! Good! And you haven't seen anything yet. We'll show it to you.

Well! Poor Dechambre...

Yes, it's awful, but what can we do?

Good. Quick, put your things here, we have a bouillabaisse that can't wait.

Don't forget, don't talk about Dechambre to Mme Verdurin.

I swear, when she found out he'd died, she almost wept!

Mr Verdurin is right. What good are our complaints?

Though a great talent disappears.

There is no reason, now that he's died, to make him out a genius, for he was not.

I found the violinist. Yesterday he stayed in bed because of a migraine.

Tonight you'll hear a little fellow whom my wife discovered.

He comes with an old friend of his family

who found him and who annoys him to the hilt:

the Baron de Charlus.

For your first visit,

I'm afraid the evening will not be the most successful.

At least you'll have the pleasure of the eyes.

Along the road we have followed so far,

you'd say the sunset was weaving golden silk under the leaves.

A poplar seemed painted on the canvas of a panorama.

At such height above the sea,

the view of the blue gulf almost makes one dizzy.

Isn't it so?

It's obvious that you are gifted at painting.

Do you draw?

- Alas no. - Believe me, you should.

You should.

Your young friend is of a very enthusiastic nature.

He's very emotional. He needs painkillers. And to start knitting.

I have a surprise for you.

Where could I see the Darnetal rocks?

I was told they are adorable at this hour, and refract so many colors.

At the other end of the park, but you can't go alone, you'll lose yourself.

I'll take you there, if you wish.

Aren't you tired of the pains you had the other day?

He'll see them another time. I hear the car coming back.

I think it's my duty to prevent you letting into your house

this Baron de Charlus, who is an eccentric individual,

known by everyone as being the very embodiment of sexual aversion.

I never believe that kind of gossip.

And if it were true, it wouldn't be too compromising for me.

Oh, yes! Here they are!

Instead of M. de Charlus,

one would think it was Mme de Marsantes coming, his sister.

Thinking so tenderly about men, you become a woman,

and an imaginary dress hinders your steps.

Madame...

Allow me to present my respectful greetings.

I didn't know that I would have the honor of finding you here.

Could you do me the great favor not to tell Mme Verdurin and the guests

what kind of profession my father practiced at your uncle's?

You'd better say he was, in your family, the steward

of such vast domains that made him almost equal with your parents.

That annoys me.

Not to paint a better picture of your father, is neither here nor there,

but my father's wealth, that seems ridiculous to me.

But I'll do it, you have my word.

As soon as I spoke to Mme Verdurin,

Morel's respect for me evaporated as by charm.

I'm glad the father of our Morel was so well placed.

But it's not that important. For here we appreciate one's own valor.

As long as it concerns art,

- the rest counts less. - The Cambremers are coming.

Baron de Charlus is here.

She had never managed to get him introduced to her.

You're happy we came, aren't you?

Madame is served!

- Excuse me. - Marquise...

Do I offer my arm to Baron de Charlus?

No, the other is one rank higher, him being a marquis.

M. de Charlus is his inferior.

I'm happy to meet our dear Raspelière again.

But you must make some changes.

There are big bronze devils and stuffed seats

that I put in the attic.

When you get into these relatively high places,

like the one we're at today,

doesn't it seem to you like incrementally suffocating?

I can't tell you how amused I am to find out you suffer from breathlessness.

It amuses me because, precisely, my sister has that too.

Balbec must be an alteration of Dalbec.

The river that gave the name to Balbec is very strange.

Seen from the cliff, it seems to reflect the arrows of the church

located, in fact, at a great distance.

An effect that Elstir loves very much.

I saw several sketches of it.

Elstir! Do you know Tiche?

Be sure I knew him in his greatest intimacy.

He always had his place at dinner with us, and came every day.

But it seems my dinners were a waste of time for him.

That I was damaging his genius! I!

From the day he left our company, he was finished.

What he does today, I call it 'being queasy'.

Excuse me for talking to you about these trivialities,

as I don't suppose you take much note of such things.

The bourgeois spirits pay attention to them, but the artists,

those who are truly artists, don't take them into account.

Ever since we exchanged words, I noticed you were like that.

Don't protest, dear sir. You are. It's plain as can be.

You don't have to practice an art.

Brichot is not, Morel is. My wife is.

What did you want to tell me?

We put you only on the left.

- But that's of no import, here. - But I did it for a purpose,

because M. de Cambremer is a marquis,

- while you're just a baron. - Allow me, I'm also Duke of Brabant,

Prince of Oléron, Carency, Viareggio and of Dunes.

But don't torment yourself.

I noticed right away that you're not in the habit.

That hurts me.

Poor Elstir. He ruined a pretty painter's temperament.

In fact, he was quite mediocre.

For a start, he was so dirty!

Do you like people who never wash?

This card game, shall we, yes or no?

First, I demand a bit of violin, my little Charles.

To my great astonishment,

M. de Charlus, who never spoke about his great gifts,

went to the piano to accompany Morel, with the purest style.

Under the action of countless neuralgia

which music had caused her for years,

the forehead of Mrs. Verdurin took on enormous proportions.

All her traits proclaimed, without need for its owner to speak,

resignation to her suffering to come,

caused by beautiful things and the courage she had to wear a dress

when one hardly noticed the last sonata.

- Hold on! Play this. It's divine. - I've had enough of music for tonight.

Can we play cards?

We don't have enough partners for whist.

But I can play with you if you want.

You think it's not a crime that this being

who could delight us with his violin sits at a table of écarté?

He plays cards well. He does everything well. He's so smart...

Tell me, Charlus, you told me that you know Mme de Molé.

- Are you going to her house? - Well... sometimes.

Did you meet the Duke de Guermantes there?

- I don't remember. - Ah! You don't know the Duke.

But how... how could I not know him?

But why do you say "how could I not know him"?

Since he's my brother.

- Ah... - You understand...

Let's go sit down.

I heard that M. de Cambremer invited you to dinner.

For your good, I hope you won't go. It's excessively unhealthy.

When you have caught a chest inflammation

or rheumatism from the family, it'll already be quite serious.

And you, with your breathlessness...

But isn't the place really nice?

Very nice is too much said. We're 100 times better here.

I'll still have to go there once or twice.

I have a young cousin whom I can't leave alone for too long.

I've already introduced her to the Cambremers who invited her.

I understand they invited her, because they can't stay without guests.

Instead of taking her to the Cambremers,

bring your cousin here. At least here you have plenty to eat.

At their place, there's hunger and thirst.

If you like rats, go right away. You will be served galore.

For me? Oh! How nice you are!

Since you'll have your car, it will suit you well.

Will I have a car?

With the stifling temperature these days,

my little Albertine was hot on the train.

From now on, a car will come look for us.

- How much money you spend! - said my mother, caringly.

- And Françoise replied: - Money flies.

Ah! You are a one for surprises.

I come from the garden, the yard and the vegetable plot.

I'm dressed like a peasant, which I am, as a matter of fact.

We took the car through the area and we ventured out.

You did well. You could have broken your nose, children.

You'll always find me Monday ready for a picnic.

I want to introduce my cousin Albertine.

Come both on a Monday to taste all our pastries.

The best you can find in the region.

But you can't leave without tasting.

You will have sablé and apple tarts.

Our chef makes them like no one else.

We regret that we will deprive ourselves of the apple pie.

We have to go already.

You know what? I'll come too.

- I'm going with you! - I want to join in the fun, too!

And we'll come back together by train.

I didn't want to allow Madame to spoil the pleasure

I had promised Albertine on the return from the ride.

- We have a visit to make. - We'll wait for you.

My cousin wants to consult me over some trouble.

I have to be alone with her.

Very well! We won't come!

- Ah? - No.

- I thought I had broken with her. - Don't forget the day after tomorrow!

It's Wednesday!

Wait! Wait!

Slices of apple pie and sablé

that Mme Verdurin packed for you.

Sometimes, Albertine found it wiser

to stay in Saint-Jean de la Haise to paint.

I'll come back for you.

While pretending to neglect Albertine for other pleasures,

I thought only of her.

Even from a fairly large distance,

I was happy to think that this powerful and gentle sea breeze

which passed me by

had come to shake the tree branches at Saint-Jean de la Haise,

caressing my friend's face,

and binding us each to the other.

When we took the road back,

Albertine sometimes asked me to look for a bottle of cider,

to drink in the car.

After drinking,

she seemed unable to bear an empty place between us,

her legs pressed against mine,

she approached cheek to cheek,

which had become full, warm and red on her cheekbones,

with a hot, dry touch, as girls in the suburbs have.

Besides his talent, which is great, Morel is a nice boy,

full of delicacy, grateful for what is done for him.

When he talked about Morel, a subject he couldn't avoid,

the Baron believed that it would be understood in complete innocence.

And, with all his beauty,...

He thought that there were, in the universe, some people

who were, according to the expression, attached to his account,

but he figured they were no more than 3 or 4.

and that he had none on the Normandy coast.

What a shock for M. de Charlus if he had heard Madame

saying, during a recent breakfast,

We are only waiting for these young ladies.

I noticed your first name is Charles,

that looks like Charlus, and that the property where we are now

is called Les Charmes.

A nice name is half from an artistic reputation.

It occurred to me that you should take

without hesitating the name of Charmel,

which will remind us of the place of our rendez-vous.

Charmel? And what else?

I'm not a doggie that you can baptize as you like.

You'll not going to make me change my name.

Since you don't want "Charmel",

I would like to ennoble you

and give you one of the titles of the Guermantes.

My graduate artist name, Morel,

is to my eyes a thousand times superior

to any name you could give me.

My children! My little children!

The trips back and forth to Raspelière

awoke in me the desire to travel, to lead a new life,

to give up any idea of marriage with Albertine,

and even to finally break the bonds between us.

Well, I say farewell to you. I'm leaving you here.

Farewell? What? I thought I'd spend the end of the day with you.

Ah, no. I've things to do. Goodbye.

Since you're left alone unexpectedly,

don't you want me to accompany you a little?

Oh yes, I do.

Go home alone. I'll see you tonight.

I'm asking you a...

a great favor.

Take a car to go faster.

You'll still find Morel in his room.

You'll give him this note.

Excuse me for enclosing it.

You'll tell him that you met me by chance, in the company of...

someone you don't know, that you thought you heard...

words about... sending seconds.

I am fighting tomorrow, indeed.

Above all...

don't tell him that I'm asking.

But if he wants to come with you, don't stop him from doing so.

Yes, come in.

Ah, God! How lucky to see you! I have nothing to do tonight.

Please let's spend it together.

We'll go boating, we'll make music if you like.

I already have an appointment at Balbec for dinner.

I bring you word from M. de Charlus.

He's come here to hunt me out? Then I am a slave?

I won't open the letter. You'll tell him that you didn't see me.

You'd better open it. I think it's serious.

You don't know the infernal tricks that old pirate is capable of.

It's a trick to make me go to see him. Well, I won't.

I want peace tonight.

- Isn't it a duel tomorrow? - A duel?

I don't know a thing about that. I don't care.

This disgusting old man can shoot himself if he likes.

After all, you intrigue me.

God, that's the last straw!

They told him two officers in the regiment

talked badly about him concerning me.

He'll send them his seconds!

I'll have to leave the regiment in scandal and shame!

Where is he? I know where to find him right now.

What are you doing here?

I told you expressly not to bring him here.

I'm here, in the name of our friendship, to beg you on my knees...

- not to do this madness. - Letters to the seconds are gone.

If your friendship is sincere as you claim,

you should approve

my not allowing these barrack-room insinuations to pass.

I hope that my two opponents, despite their unequal rank,

have blood that I can shed with no shame.

I won't survive them!

But shouldn't these seconds see you before going to find the officer?

I think they should.

Let me not leave you until you find the right path.

M. de Charlus had invented this story,

but, if Morel hadn't come, crazy as he was, M. de Charlus

would have sent the seconds to some officer,

whom he would have had the comfort of defeating.

I'll try to find an escape.

We'll see.

This reconciliation ended only for a time the baron's torments.

I'll not be gone long, my dear.

I'm happy to be able to give you satisfaction before your departure.

I have definitely decided not to marry Albertine,

and to stop seeing her.

I don't hide from you that you give me great pleasure.

I'm only waiting for an opportunity to tell her.

That same day,

while I returned with Albertine from dinner at La Raspelière,

by the time the congregation descended at one station or another,

I felt I wouldn't have time that night, and it would be better to postpone it.

So, tomorrow, Verdurin again? Don't forget you'll come for me?

Unless I don't bother.

I'm starting to find this life stupid.

Anyway, if we go, I can ask Mme Verdurin

something that might interest me a lot, which I would love,

something I don't really find this year in Balbec.

It's not kind to me, but I don't blame you.

Because I feel you're on edge.

What is this pleasure?

That Mme Verdurin plays me the music of a man whose work she knows very well.

I know one piece, but it seems he has others. - Who is this musician?

Honey, if I told you his name is Vinteuil,

would you be much more edified?

You don't even know how much you amuse me.

It tells me a lot more than you think.

Do you remember? I told you about a friend

older than me, who was for me like a mother, or a sister,

and that I'll have to meet again at Cherbourg, in a few weeks.

This friend is the best friend of the daughter of this Vinteuil.

And I know almost as well this Vinteuil's daughter.

I only call them my older sisters.

I'm not upset to show you that your little Albertine

may be useful to you.

Albertine, friend of Mlle Vinteuil and of her friend...

professional practitioners of Sapphism?

Would it be possible to come to bed tonight at Balbec?

That's it. Lie down. Will you be well?

I'm ashamed to keep you from going to sleep in your room.

I'm going straight away, don't worry.

When I came to Balbec,

I left a woman whom I gave up marrying.

I knew she was leaving Paris today

for a long journey.

Every day I was about to wire her to say I can't live without her.

I had the courage not to do it, and she left.

But tonight I was so unhappy

that I thought I would commit suicide.

That's why I asked you to stay with me.

My poor little one, I won't leave you anymore.

I'll stay forever here.

It's dangerous. They'll see us.

When they see us, it'll be all the more pleasant.

The point is, I... I would go to Paris today.

Wouldn't you go away with me?

And wouldn't you like to come live with us in Paris?

What need do you have to go back so quickly to Paris,

since this lady is gone?

At all costs I had to keep her near me

to prevent her from meeting again Mlle Vinteuil's friend.

I've suffered too much here,

and I've a horror of Balbec.

You should marry this lady, my dear.

You'd be happy. And her too, certainly.

From a certain point of view, I could make a woman happy.

I inherited a fortune allowing me to keep her in luxury.

You, my little Albertine,

who love so much cars and yachting,

it's sad that you're not the one I love.

But I didn't dare to marry her.

I wouldn't have wanted to make a young woman live

alongside someone so suffering, so boring...

Are you mad?

Everyone would like to live close to you.

Look how everybody is looking for you.

That woman was not very nice

to give you that impression of doubt about yourself.

Except the one that I love and whom I gave up,

I only care about my little Albertine.

She's the only one who could comfort me a little.

So, do you accept my invitation for Paris?

My aunt would not want me to go off like that, point blank.

Even if, later, she accepts it,

won't it seem a little odd to show up this way at your home?

We'll say that we are engaged.

When I wake up, I'll go and reassure my aunt and talk with her.

I'll join you in the afternoon.

Send the page with a note for your aunt.

Stay at the hotel with me.

Agreed.

Come on, sleep, my dear.

I embraced her as I did once with my mother,

to calm my childhood sorrows.

Albertine came to Paris to live under the same roof as me.

She had her room 20 steps away from mine, down the hall.

Françoise had taught her to respect my sleeping hours,

and Albertine was waiting every morning for me to wake up

before daring to make any noise in her bathroom.

Often, as soon as I heard her,

I went to my bathroom contiguous to hers. Albertine was singing.

♪ Oh! How it puts the heart ♪ ♪ to sleep, fatigue and pain! ♪

= THE PRISONER = ♪ For melancholy is folly, ♪

♪ And whoever heeds it ♪ ♪ is a fool. ♪

♪ you who consoles, ♪ ♪ Bagpipes, bagpipes my dear bagpipe. ♪

Where are you going today?

To Buttes-Chaumont, with Andrée. I've never been there before.

Sometimes I stayed in bed, dreaming as long as I wanted.

If at first mother, who worried about leaving me alone,

wouldn't have been hostile to Albertine,

now she wrote me from Combray:

"My dear, I find absolutely bizarre and shocking

"that a girl lives alone with you,

"and that her staying continues so long in the absence of her parents."

The prohibition of entering my room before I rang greatly amused Albertine.

She had adopted our family habit of quotations.

"Death is the price for all who dare, without being called, appear before my eyes."

"I am subject to this law as any other,

"and to to talk to him he must search for or at least call for me."

You're already shaved. How pretty you are!

I'd rather die than leave you. I swear.

When I take a book that has been in your room,

I may read it outside, one still knows that it comes from here,

because it keeps something of your dirty fumigations.

Will you go out with us today?

You have to forgive me again for not accompanying you.

I'm suffering too much, my dear, and I'd like to try to work a little.

No sooner had Albertine left,

than I felt first revived, thirsty for healing,

to be free, to know other women,

to leave for Venice.

But the day was already over,

and I was invaded by the evening's desolation.

At that time, I knew I would find Mme de Guermantes at home.

Albertine liked that I go to the duchess,

looking for fashion tips for herself.

I couldn't refuse to gift her incessantly beautiful things.

Without almost thinking how uncommon it was,

I was coming to this mysterious Duchess de Guermantes from my childhood

just to use her and to obtain practical information,

as we do on the phone, once a supernatural instrument,

and that we use it even without thinking.

For example, Madame, the day you had to go to dinner

to Mme de Saint-Euverte before going to the Princess de Guermantes,

you had a red dress, with red shoes...

You looked like a... big flower of blood,

of a ruby in flames. Can a young girl wear that?

I didn't know I was like a ruby in flames or a flower of blood.

It was red satin, as it was then.

A young girl can wear it too,

but you told me that yours doesn't come out in the evening.

It's a big party dress. So you don't wear it when you go on a visit.

And you remember, Madame, the first time you were kind to me...

The first time I was kind to him!

You had a yellow dress with large black flowers.

My dear, it's the same thing. There are big party dresses.

And this dressing gown that smells so bad,

which you had the other night, dark with golden striations

like a butterfly wing?

That's a Fortuny dress. Your girl can put that on, when she stays inside.

I have plenty, I'll show you.

I can even give you some, if it pleases you.

I'm like a duchess! I'm crazy about it.

What a face Andrée's mother would make

seeing me become a rich woman like her,

what she calls a woman with "horses, carriages, paintings".

I never told you that she said that?

Oh, she's a character!

Albertine, whom I had so much trouble catching up,

riding on her bike,

who sometimes I expected all night in vain,

Albertine, who was like a great star of sea resort life,

arousing jealousies,

I had removed her from the stage, locked her up

and sheltered her from everyone's desires.

I was proud to have picked

and hidden from everyone's eyes the most beautiful rose.

Sometimes,

even though I was only a moment out of my room,

entering again,

not daring to make any noise,

I could hear none but her breath

coming to expire on her lips.

It seemed to me to be the long stem of a flower

which someone would have put there.

By holding it under my eyes, in my hands,

I had the impression that I possessed her entirely,

which I did not have when she was awake.

My only free hand was moved by Albertine's breath.

I was myself easily displaced by her regular movement.

I was embarking on Albertine's sleep.

Sometimes it made me taste a less pure pleasure.

But this pleasure of seeing her sleeping

put an end to the pleasure of seeing her awaken.

Honey...

In my need of keeping Albertine this way each evening beside me,

Have you written anything lately, darling?

mixed a power of appeasement such as I had never felt...

since the long ago evenings of Combray,

where my mother, bending over my bed,

came to bring me comfort through a kiss.

And for tomorrow, what are your plans?

It's possible that I'll go to the Verdurins.

I don't know if I'll go. I don't feel like it.

Albertine was always using this doubtful tone

for irrevocable resolutions.

She surely planned this visit to make a meeting,

to prepare some delight.

If I feel well, would that annoy you

to go with you tomorrow to the Verdurins,

to make that visit promised even since Raspelière?

You'll do as you please, but I don't know if I'll go.

The Verdurins have shown me much kindness,

but there are things I don't like about them.

Then don't go there, my dear.

Tomorrow at Trocadéro there's a superb charity performance.

I'm tired. We've walked so much.

I'm asking your permission to go to bed.

Albertine, my dear girl, you have no obligation.

I want to be sure you feel well here.

I don't know where I could be happier. Good night, my dear.

Her kiss, from where she was actually absent,

caused me a terrible anxiety.

She let's you know that she gave up visiting the Verdurins.

She'll go to the Trocadéro, as you advised her, with her friend Andrée.

She asks if she may come in.

I was told you were awake.

Françoise already told you,

Andrée and I don't feel like going to the Verdurins.

Andrée is waiting for me. I'm off.

Once Albertine had left...

I felt what a fatigue her eternal presence held for me.

What a pleasure if she had the good idea of leaving

who knows where to never return home again.

"In the matinee program that will be given

"this afternoon in the Trocadéro's party hall,

"we must add the name of Mlle Léa."

Léa...

the actress who at Balbec had shown herself with Bloch's sister.

Everybody knew each other in Balbec.

Albertine would congratulate her in her dressing room.

Albertine! Albertine! - She's just left, sir.

Quickly, Françoise. Catch her up.

Go to the Trocadéro if you have to.

Tell her you saw me upset by some news I'd received.

You have to bring her back here, happy or not.

It would be the last straw not being happy to see Monsieur.

I'll scoot. And presto.

Here she is. She hadn't gone too far.

What an unhappy figure!

Is it still the same woman who wrote to upset you?

I asked you to sacrifice your afternoon,

because only my little Albertine can comfort me.

Stay with me.

After dinner, I'll go to see some friends.

Mme de Guermantes, de Villeparisis, those I could find at home...

- Do you want to come with me? - I don't have an evening dress.

One of these days, we'll order you a Fortuny dress

which I saw at the duchess'.

I'm tired, I'll stay here. I will read and sleep.

Without telling Albertine, I decided to go to the Verdurins,

to try to learn who she had hoped to meet at their place.

You walk in the night with a young man?

We met in the rue Buonaparte.

You're not seen too often, charming youth! How are you?

- But your cousin? Isn't she with you? - Well, no.

You may have done well not bringing her.

I heard through Charlus today that Vinteuil's daughter and her friend will come,

two people with a terrible reputation.

But it is not certain that we'll see them.

They should have been here all afternoon, at a rehearsal,

but they didn't come. Come on, my friend.

What's the matter with you? You're green. Come on, come in.

You look unwell. Maybe you've caught a chill.

I had received my answer.

It was Mlle Vinteuil whom Albertine had hoped to soon meet.

You'll see how this kid plays the music of Vinteuil.

He gives me a turn.

I know I'm exaggerating with him,

like all the mother hens from the conservatory.

I made the invitations.

I've called some agreeable people from another milieu,

which may be useful to Charlie

and whom Verdurin would be interested to know.

My children, I have a surprise for you.

Cottard tried the experiment to treat my nose with rhino-gomenol.

I can cry like who knows how many mothers who've lost their children.

- No trace of cold. - Bravo, Cottard.

... discovered a formula which seems to work.

From the very first days,

Vinteuil's music, by making me cry,

caused me enormous colds.

I was like a drunken old man.

I was just falling from one bronchitis into another.

Is Vinteuil's daughter here? Or one of her friends?

No. I just received a telegram. They had to stay in the country.

Explain to me what you are going to play, my dear.

Show me your scores.

If Charlus allows himself to rule Charlie, I'll show him my teeth.

This poor Charlie has just told me.

This gentleman prevents him from accepting an invitation to friends

to whom I had promised his help,

because he himself is not invited.

So, he's going to have a serious warning.

And if that's not enough, he'll just leave us through that door.

Dear Palamède...

What M. de Charlus lost that night

was the poor education, so frequent in this world,

of the people whom he had invited.

Each duchess went straight to the baron,

as if he were the master of the house.

And he didn't think to ask them to go greet Mme Verdurin.

... make me happy thinking of me...

Show me where mother Verdurin is.

This white haired woman? Doesn't she seem rather the wrong kind?

Of all the guests of Mr. Charlus, only the Queen of Naples,

sister of Empress Elisabeth of Austria, made exception. - My dear cousin!

Your Highness...

Dear Madame, for so long I have wanted to meet you.

I rarely go out in the world.

I came out of my lair for the pleasure of knowing you,

more than for music or for my cousin's sake.

Your Highness is too good. It touches me and it honors me.

I hope you can forgive me, I won't be able to stay until the end of the concert.

But when I leave, most of all pay me no attention.

Come on, sit down.

Quiet, please.

I stopped listening to the music

to ask myself again if Albertine saw or not

Mlle Vinteuil these days.

The moment I imagined Albertine waiting for me at home

or maybe falling asleep,

I was caressed in passing by a tender phrase of the septet.

Perhaps Vinteuil was inspired by his daughter's sleep?

Of his daughter, who today is the cause of all my anxieties.

This phrase calmed me.

Asleep or awake, I would find her tonight,

Albertine, my little child.

The notorious bond of his daughter broke Vinteuil's heart.

Mlle Vinteuil's friend, who had hastened his death,

then spent years deciphering his scribbled notes

which he had left, and making them readable.

Thanks to her could come to me the strange calling

which I never ceased to hear,

as the promise that there is something else,

realizable through art, no doubt,

than the nothingness I had found in all pleasures,

and even in love.

We can't leave without thanking Palamède.

There's no one today who could give such a show.

Could I give a soiree to listen to your friend?

- You mean my protégé. - My compliments to your protégé.

Bravo for this evening. It was a success.

It was sublime.

Well, are you satisfied?

You see that, when I give a party, it is not half-successful.

Think that the Queen of Naples came from Neuilly.

The Duchess of Duras was delighted.

She has engaged Morel too and he'll give the same program.

General! We have to talk.

Brichot!

Suggest Charlus to come smoke a cigar with you,

so I can illuminate that Dulcinea about the chasm in which he rolls,

without Charlus realizing it.

I don't feel safe with that in my home.

I learnt one of his ugly stories and that the police keep an eye on him.

Apparently he was in prison.

- My dear Madame, you surprise me. - I'm telling you because I know!

Go get Charlus!

Oh! What a party!

I confess that the thought that poor Baron has no idea what would hit him

saddens me. He's crazy about this boy.

It seems to me that I'm leading him, as they say, into an ambush.

The idea of the suffering they prepared for Mr. Charlus was unbearable.

- Shall we go smoke a cigarette? - With pleasure.

I would have liked to put him on guard, but didn't know how to do so.

My dear Charlie, Mme Verdurin would like to talk to you.

I regret that the Queen of Naples left before I could be introduced to her.

My dear Charlie,

I am your friend. It's my duty to tell you.

You don't have to suffer much longer

this shameful promiscuity with a wicked character

who is not received anywhere.

You are the laughing stock of the conservatory.

An extra month lived thus, and your artistic future is destroyed.

But... but I have heard nothing of it.

You are the only one!

He's a man of whom ugly things are said.

I know the police are watching him.

Besides, even materially, he can be of no use.

He's completely ruined.

He's at the mercy of someone blackmailing him,

among others, that Jupien.

And everything is fully mortgaged. Hotels, castles...

I'd never have imagined it.

You are not told straight, but they are pointing at you.

Such a connection makes anyone ridiculous.

He is the laughing stock of all, for his whole life.

I don't know how to thank you.

Even tonight, I'll break with M. Charlus.

The Queen of Naples has gone, hasn't she?

If it weren't for that, I'd have asked him to introduce me to her.

She left indeed, for another engagement.

She's an honest woman.

She makes no big fuss about Charlus. She came especially for me.

You see, what I blame Charlus for most,

it's lacking delicacy towards you.

There are things we don't tell everyone.

Someone thought to please him by saying:

"We admire your friend Morel a lot."

He replied: "How can you think him to be my friend?

"We are not of the same class.

He is my protégé, nothing more."

My husband was told several times he said "my lackey".

That I can't say for sure.

On the contrary, he bet in front of us that it will make you joyful

announcing that you'll receive the Cross of the Legion of Honor.

It's a joke,

as his recommendation alone

would be enough to prevent you from receiving it.

We were grieved when he added laughing out loud

that, if you want the cross,

it's for your father.

And that your father was a lackey.

How grievous!

Well, are you happy, young glory,

and soon Knight of The Legion of Honor?

General Delcourt has just confirmed it to me.

You'll soon be able to show your cross.

Leave me! I forbid you to approach!

I know now what a wretch you are!

I wasn't supposed to know, but I know!

I'm not the first one you try to pervert and destroy!

My only consolation

was to imagine Morel and Verdurin

smashed by M. de Charlus.

But what's going on?

What does this mean?

Charlie, for pity sake...

Did you see Charlus?

He's not well.

He trembles on his legs. He should sit down.

He's going to collapse in the chair.

Isn't that lady the Queen of Naples?

After what happened, I can't ask the Baron to introduce me.

Wait, I'll do it.

I'm Mme Verdurin. Your Majesty doesn't recognize me?

Yes, very well.

I was coming to look for my fan.

You don't look good, my dear cousin. Lean on my arm.

Be sure it'll always support you. It's solid enough for that.

It has already kept the villain in check.

It'll know how to serve you as rampart.

A few days later, the Baron, in a total state of prostration,

contracted pneumonia and stayed for several months suspended between life and death.

Guess where I've come from? The Verdurins.

I thought so.

I didn't know it would bother you if I went to them.

Bother me? Why do you think I would care?

That's something equilateral to me.

Shouldn't Miss Vinteuil be there too?

You didn't tell me you saw Mme Verdurin the other day, who informed you.

And there are other things that you hide from me.

Tonight, at the Verdurins, I've learned the truth about Mlle Vinteuil!

You mean you found out that I lied to you

when I claimed I was half raised by her?

I felt so despised by you...

I felt that I was boring you, that you thought me a goose,

I thought I was interesting claiming I knew those girls well.

I bet Mlle Vinteuil's friend told you she didn't know me.

She only saw me twice at a colleague's place.

But of course I'm not that chic for such famous people.

They prefer to say they have never seen me.

But, my dear,

I'd love to give you a few hundred francs

to go where you want to make yourself chic

- and invite the Verdurins to dinner. - Many thanks!

Spend a dime for those old people? I'd rather go break...

- What did you say, Albertine? - No, nothing, I...

- I'm half asleep. - You're very much awake!

Have at least the courage to finish your sentence. To break what?

Let me go, it's very vulgar. Those are words heard on the street.

I blurted it out without knowing what it means.

Suddenly, terrible words came into my mind.

What Albertine wanted to say "to go break my ass".

Terrible! That was what she'd have preferred.

Not the least of the prostitutes who agrees or wants it

could use this expression. Albertine!

The life you live here is boring for you.

You better leave us.

To shorten the pain I'll feel,

I'm asking you to say goodbye to me tonight.

And leave tomorrow before I wake up.

Tomorrow? Do you really want that?

We need to put an end to this all at once.

And, Albertine, I ask you one thing:

Never see me again in this life.

It would hurt me too much, for I have truly loved you.

Not really love maybe, but a great, great friendship.

Do you really think I don't love you!

It hurts me very much to leave you.

And me, a thousand times more!

But I promise you, I'll never see you again.

Rather than seeing you cry like that, darling.

I can't believe I won't see all this again.

Not tomorrow, not ever...

Poor little room...

It seems to me impossible.

It had to be. You were unhappy here.

I was not unhappy. But now I will be.

Listen, Albertine, you say you'll be unhappy.

This troubles me.

Do you want us to try to prolong it a few weeks?

Week by week, who knows?

Oh! How nice of you!

Then what madness to hurt each other like this

for hours. I'm heartbroken.

Go to sleep, darling. You must be shattered.

- I'm especially very happy. - Do you love me? A little?

A hundred times more than before.

When Albertine claimed to feel so happy at home,

could I believe her,

or had she, sometimes, the desire to break her chains?

You seemed to regret giving up the other dresses to choose this one.

I've ordered them all.

But whatever I do, you show total ingratitude.

The travels, the pleasures that I sacrifice to be with you,

you're not grateful at all!

You can ask anyone, it's just a cry!

Forgive me, my little Albertine.

Wicked people want to separate us.

I'm driven crazy by certain denunciations.

I'm persecuted with talk of your relationship with Andrée.

With Andrée? Charming!

And can I know who told you of these beautiful things?

My little Albertine, there are anonymous letters.

I'm tired. I'll say good night.

Albertine, I couldn't sleep.

If you don't feel like sleeping, you may stay a little with me.

You should take off your dress. It's too hot, too stiff.

I don't dare to approach you.

Take off your clothes, darling.

I'll undress in my room, right away.

It's very late and I'm tired.

Good night. Try to sleep well.

It was the sound of Albertine's window which opened violently.

However, one of the conventions of our life together,

because I feared the flow of air, was that the windows not be open at night.

I had to go to Venice. It was time.

My life with Albertine, when I wasn't jealous, was merely boredom.

And when I was jealous, merely suffering.

I had to choose a beautiful day like this,

to leave her a note, and, without seeing her again, go to Venice.

I shall ask Françoise to buy me a guide

and train timetable.

I was very worried that Monsieur rings so late today.

I didn't know what to do.

This morning, at 8 o'clock, Mlle Albertine asked me for her trunks.

In vain I kept insisting she waits an hour,

because I still thought Monsieur will ring, she didn't want to.

She left me this letter for Monsieur, and, at 9 o'clock, she left.

Very good. You did well not to wake me.

Leave me a moment. I'll ring you right away.

"My friend,

"forgive me for not daring to speak to you.

"I have always been so scared in front of you.

"Here's what I had to tell you.

"Between us, life has become impossible.

"Please be so kind to forgive me if I've brought you a little pain

"thinking of that huge one "which I will have."

= ALBERTINE GONE =

"My beautiful Albertine,

"my friend,

"you have made the decision with a wonderful premonition.

"For you left the day my mother gave me her consent

"to ask for your hand. And we would have bound our lives

"for what it would have been for us, who knows? Unhappiness."

Just as I once wrote to Albertine "I don't love you"

for her to love me, now I wrote her "Farewell forever"

for her to return.

"My dear, since fate purposely wanted that my little Albertine

"cannot be my wife...

"I thought the one that would replace you best,

"because she would mention you the most,

"is Andrée. I asked her to come."

I would still have a woman in Andrée.

My dear... My little dear...

"I need you to return, with no conditions.

"You'll do whatever you want.

"I just want to kiss you for one minute, three times a week,

"before going to bed."

My telegram had just left, when I received one.

It was from Mme Bontemps.

"My poor friend, our little Albertine is gone.

"Forgive me for telling you this awful thing,

"you, who loved her so much.

"She was thrown from the saddle against a tree, while riding.

"All our efforts have not been able to revive her.

"Why didn't I die instead of her?"

What is it?

Monsieur does not need to look angry. On the contrary, he will be happy.

This is a letter from Mlle Albertine.

"Would it be too late to come back to you?

"If you haven't yet written to Andrée, would you agree to take me back?

"If your decision was that I come back,

"I would take the train immediately.

"With all my heart to you, Albertine."

This letter

she must have written shortly before the ride in which she died.

I told myself that only my own death

could comfort me for that of Albertine's.

Formerly,

I had incessantly thought about the uncertain future that was before us.

And now, what was before me as uncertain and even more cruel,

was no longer Albertine's future, it was her past.

Suddenly a remembrance arose that was buried in my memory.

My dear Aimé,

I know I can have in you an absolute trust.

When I was in Balbec,

I heard that two young women, whose behavior was scandalous,

were going to the hydropathic service in the hotel

and not just for showers and baths.

Try to find out if Mlle Albertine's behavior when she went to bathe

had ever seemed suspicious.

I could say that all that year

my life was filled with love, with a real bond.

And the one who was the object of this love

was now dead.

"I just talked at last with the person Monsieur charged me to meet

"and who remembers well Mlle A.

"According to her, the thing Monsieur suspected was absolutely sure.

"Mlle A. often came to shower with a woman older than her.

"She and Mlle A.

"locked themselves in the cabin and stayed for a long time.

"But, more often than not, Mlle A. came with much younger girls."

I remembered then that my grandmother told me about an unbelievable story

that the shower woman told to Mme de Villeparisis,

She's a woman who must have the disease of lying.

A good way to discover the truth

was to send Aimé to spend a few days in the vicinity of Mme Bontemps's villa.

"For now, sir, from a young laundrywoman in town,

"I only found out that Mlle A. had a special way to shake her arm.

"«But,» she said, «the lady has never done anything to me.»"

"To make the little laundress talk, I took her to dinner, I made her drink,

"and so she told me

"that Mlle Albertine met her often on the seashore.

"They were bathing

"and stayed in the grass to dry, to caress, to tickle.

"Seeing Mlle A. rubbing against her in her bathrobe,

"she made her remove it by caressing with her tongue

"along her neck, her arms, even the soles of her feet.

"She told me nothing more.

"Wanting to do my best to please you,

"I took the laundress to sleep with me.

"She asked me if I wanted her to do to me what she did to Albertine

"when this one took off her bathing suit.

"And she told me:

"«If you only knew how this lady writhed!

"«She was telling me that I send her to the angels,

"«and she was so nervous that she couldn't refrain from biting me.»"

I saw Albertine recomposing, along the laundress and her friends,

that group of Albertine's friends from Balbec whom I liked so much.

If I had been an amateur sensitive to beauty alone,

I would have admitted that Aimé's story gave me...

a much nicer vision.

But my heart burned in the fires of hell.

If I could have managed to evoke Albertine in turning the tables,

I would only want it to tell her

You thought I would never find out what you did after you left me?

Well, I know everything!

I know about the laundress!

You said "You send me to the angels.". I saw the bite.

If there was a vile Albertine, that doesn't mean there weren't others.

Then moments came back to my mind in which she was only good.

Or serious.

The lamps, this room... Thinking I'll never see them again...

Oh, no! Anything, than to cause you pain.

From the moment the good Albertine had returned,

as I would have done if she were alive, I questioned her tenderly.

My little girl,

is it true, the laundress story?

I swear that it's not.

Aimé wanted to show you he rightfully earned the money you gave him.

He didn't want to come back empty-handed.

He made the laundress tell him what he wanted.

You don't need to tell me anything, my dear.

If you did what you wanted, my poor little girl,

it doesn't change any of the feelings which bind us and will always bind us.

If I hid from you my tastes,

it was only not to cause you pain.

I remembered the good and pitiful look of this Albertine

and it was easy for me to do what I would have done

by all means if she was alive, next to me:

forgive her.

My first step to forget Albertine

I made one Toussaint morning.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye, Madame.

The end of my love,

seemed to make possible for me a new love.

- My young neighbor! - Sir...

You know Mlle de Forcheville?

Mlle de Forcheville? I don't think so.

Don't you remember that you once knew me well?

Your friend Gilberte.

Gilberte?

It was Gilberte Swann.

Cut off from the world during my isolation,

I had only heard after Swann's death:

Odette being a rich widow, Forcheville had married her.

He extended his kindness to Gilberte's person,

whose Jewish name of Swann annoyed him.

He had adopted her.

When we met on the street,

I saw you didn't recognize me.

And that you took my smiles for advances on my part.

It cheered Gilberte who told me that you followed her,

- taking her for a cocotte. - I'm mortified.

- Don't overwhelm me. - I recognized you right away.

I couldn't help thinking with regret of Swann,

who would have liked to see his daughter received by the Guermantes,

as she was received today,

which they refused without pity until his final hour.

You had disappeared. I am happy to see you.

Don't you want to come tomorrow with us to the comic opera?

Thank you, but I'm not going to the theater.

I've lost a friend whom I loved very much.

For the first time, it gave me pleasure to talk about it.

It was from that moment that I started to write to every one

that I had just passed over a great pain,

and had now ceased to feel it.

I remember that I knew that Albertine was starting to be indifferent to me

from the very first morning in Venice.

The trip I had sacrificed so often for Albertine.

In the spring, I finally had the courage to go there with my mother.

A painting almost revived my love.

Seeing for the first time "The Miracle of the Possessed" by Carpaccio,

on the back of one of the nobles I recognized

the fabric of Fortuny's dress which Albertine was wearing

on the eve of her departure.

I was caught up in a feeling of desire and melancholy

which dissipated immediately.

This monster, the oblivion, had ended, as I thought,

by devouring my love.

"My dear,

"I telegraphed you to Venice on this subject,

"but received no answer."

Mum!

Mum!

I have something amazing to tell you.

There is nothing more amazing than what this letter teaches me.

It's a marriage!

Gilberte Swann announces her marriage... to Robert de Saint-Loup!

Gilberte Swann with Robert de Saint-Loup, that's really incredible.

If old papa Swann knew he would have one day

great-grandchildren in which would be mixed

the blood of mother Moser who used to say "Goot tay, gentlemen!"

with the Duke de Guise's blood!

Poor Swann...

who wanted so much that Gilberte was received by the Guermantes...

how happy would he be today to see his daughter becoming a Guermantes!

This barely made marriage has already begun to unravel.

Robert is collecting mistresses,

and doesn't hide it.

What is to be done? It's a family characteristic.

Did Gilberte confess to you?

She didn't hide from me she was unhappy.

She'll get used to it. Saint-Loup was cheating on his wife,

but not as everyone believed.

That this wretch Morel left the baron as he did,

it's his business.

But to turn to his nephew, one can't do such a thing.

A nephew the baron loves as his own son.

I can tell you that Morel

draws fortunes from the marquis as he did from the baron.

Coming to find news from Baron Charlus who was sick,

I found Jupien there. - Are you sure of what you say?

Madame de Saint-Loup came upon love letters

addressed to her husband, signed "Lolotte".

Let me tell you, sir,

that the person who signs "Lolotte" is none other than Charlie Morel.

Charlie, Charlotte, Lolotte.

How could it happen? Him, who loved women so much...

I saw him so desperate, that I feared he'd commit suicide.

Probably Morel applied some diabolical tricks.

Jupien thought it was very recent

the new orientation of Saint-Loup's carnal tastes.

But when I went to Balbec for a few days...

I've known this for a long time. It's well-known, sir.

The first year you came to Balbec,

M. de Saint-Loup shut himself up with my page

under the pretext of developing photos of your grandmother.

The boy wanted to complain.

We had a very hard time trying to calm down things.

The first year when we were at Balbec...

It came back to me that the following summer,

on the Doncières station platform, Saint-Loup had told me...

Curious how this boy... has things from Rachel.

Doesn't that strike you? They have identical things.

Charlie. Rachel. Even their name.

It is possible that Morel, being excessively black,

was necessary to Saint-Loup, as shadow is to the sun.

The walks we do are the ones I did as a child,

but it makes me sad to see how little of past excitements I find again.

You didn't feel anything on taking the slope?

I'm sad at the idea that my ability to feel and imagine is leaving me.

But as for the slope, how much I loved you then!

Why didn't you tell me?

I loved you too.

I had never known such a pretty little boy.

I used to go play with friends

in the ruins of the Roussainville dungeon.

There were girls and boys of all kinds,

and took advantage of the darkness.

I can't tell you how I would have liked to see you coming.

That day, you were walking with your family.

I tried to make you understand, but...

But I didn't understand.

If I knew how to understand it...

What I wanted so much then,

Gilberte had almost made me taste it as a teenager.

Good evening, sir.

= TIME REGAINED =

Because of a worsening of my illness,

I had to leave Paris

to go into a nursing home.

Although myopic, they declared me able-bodied.

Poor Bloch, what else could I expect from Dreyfus's executioners?

After a long absence, I was in Paris in August 1914,

a week after the declaration of war, to undergo a medical examination.

Afterwards I was supposed to return to the nursing home.

I'm surprised the doctor lets you come out to enter such a place.

What are you doing here?

I have a dinner date with Saint-Loup.

The Noble Knight of Saint-Loup-en-Bray.

I bet that, through his relations, he'll be spared putting his skin in jeopardy.

I'll leave you, I'm off to the theater.

My engagement is accepted.

Tomorrow I have an appointment at the Ministry of War

to meet the regimental colonel where I'll be drafted.

You high-rankers who show off at Headquarters, you don't risk anything.

And I, second class fresh recruit, don't feel like getting shot up for Wilhelm.

It looks like Kaiser Wilhelm is seriously ill.

Kaiser... Can't you just say Wilhelm? You're already kneeling in front of him.

Fine soldiers we'll have on the border! They'll lick the Germans' boots.

You high-rankers, parading on your merry-go-round.

This poor Bloch wants me to do no more than show off.

Here you wouldn't know there's a war.

Excuse me.

At my second return in 1916,

I entered a Paris very different from 1914.

This Paris of the war reminded one of the Directory,

with a noisy invasion of women wearing turbans,

straight, dark tunics, very "war",

and high gaiters, recalling those of our dear combatants.

I called General Headquarters. Well, here you are.

"We undertook to evacuate the dead man

"on the right bank of the Meuse.

"Our strategic goal

"is to intercept the flow of enemy communications."

I refuse to hear about peace before Germany

is reduced to pieces as in the Middle Ages.

You'll come tomorrow, at 5 o'clock, to talk about the war?

All right! Good night, my dear.

It was Madame d'Haussonville.

Come! Come quickly sit down next to me.

Brichot, push up.

It's nice to see him again, this one.

Because of the lack of coal and light,

my salon has moved momentarily here.

We missed you.

Take my seat. Take it, I have to go.

- Until tomorrow, patroness. - Until tomorrow.

It's the age of the telephone.

One knows I have friends in the ministry, so all Paris calls me.

Well, my boy, are you coming back in better health?

Healed or not, all inmates had to leave,

the medical staff having been drafted or requisitioned.

- What will you order? - A little grape.

Do you know to where Duchess Brichot went to huff and puff tonight?

I heard Mrs Duras's name.

Have you read her articles on the war?

Some were sent to me.

All you have to do is believe them crazy. It's ridiculous.

It's pedantic, it's vulgar, it's flat, flat, flat,

but it's a crazy success for the people of the world.

The one who knows how to write, sorry, is our little Morel.

His chronicles are jewels. I have some copies.

I'll get them to you.

You'll laugh your head off. "The misadventures of a merry widow"

or "The old days of the baroness".

Absolutely hilarious. It's about Charlus, of course.

And everyone recognizes him.

He calls him "Mrs. Fritz" or "Frankfurt auntie".

But... but which is actually Charlus's nationality?

Charlus is Prussian.

And yet the Queen of Naples told me...

Ah, no. No. And no one will get out of me the idea that for two years,

Charlus didn't stop for a moment to spy at my place, at Raspelière.

My property being at the bottom of a bay, on a high point,

he was most likely charged by the Germans

to prepare a base there...

for their submarines.

You could smell espionage a mile off!

Oh, no!

Already half past nine!

What shall we do? Are we going to the movies?

- Robert! - I'm on leave.

I wanted to see you, but I have very little time.

You were hurt.

A scratch.

I cannot imagine that you took part in these titanic battles...

which I only learned from the papers,

and you come back from there with just a scratch.

It seems you've come back from the very brink of the Inferno,

where you will return.

If you were there with me, with your artistic sensibility,

you would see, like me, not the horror, but the beauty of this epic.

If you saw what heroic resources people hide, especially the simple ones!

I understood the war which makes from the towns left without men

the homosexuals' despair, is instead the passionate novel

of homosexuals in battle.

"The Germans will not pass."

This newspaper jargon gives me toothache.

One hardly feels the war in Paris.

Zeppelin raids, like yesterday, are quite unusual to see.

And with the sound of sirens, it's rather Wagnerian.

Yesterday, during the raid, you could have seen a true vaudeville in the yard.

I recognized the Duchess de Guermantes,

gorgeous in her nightgown,

the Duke de Guermantes, indescribable in his pink pajamas and bathrobe...

In all major hotels you can see American Jewesses in nightgowns,

carefully gripping to their breasts the pearl necklace

which will allow them to marry a cleaned out duke.

I'm off.

My dear, goodbye.

Going to see the Verdurins in the dark,

I took one street for another and I lost myself.

By losing myself in the maze of these dark streets,

the ancient East of the "Arabian nights" which I liked so much

appeared to me in my imagination.

I was thinking about the caliph Haroun al-Rashid

looking for adventure in the lost neighborhoods of Baghdad.

At this hour don't know where the boss will find chains.

- You going to him tonight? - No.

Tonight it's Maurice.

Gentlemen, to whom should I talk? I'd like a room.

Talk to the boss. He's coming.

Could I have a room for only few hours?

I couldn't find a car. I'm a little sick.

Pierrot, take him to 43.

Maurice, what are you doing there? Go to 14 bis, you're expected.

I can't take it anymore!

On your knees! I'll tie you to the bed!

I'm afraid! Have mercy!

I won't do it anymore! Please!

So far, I've been very kind.

- Oh! Mercy! - Scumbag!

- You don't want to understand. - I'll obey!

Scumbag!

I can't take it! I'll do whatever you want!

Don't kill me!

Baron...

Do you need me?

Get Maurice out a moment.

I didn't want to hurt the little one 'cause he's very nice, but...

I don't find him brutal enough.

I like his face, but...

he calls me "scumbag" as if he'd learnt his lesson well.

He was, however, compromised in the killing of a concierge from Villette.

But... I've the ox killer. The man from the slaughterhouse.

- You want to try him? - Yeah, gladly.

What struck me at once was that they were both replacements for Morel.

They resembled him.

We're embarrassed. A Military Cross was found on the floor.

We don't know who lost it, who to send it to

for the poor guy not to be punished.

How come? Already finished? It didn't take you long!

If you had to hit with all your might in this heat!...

If it wasn't for those 50 francs he gives me...

You, sir?

I went in to get a little rest.

I was promised a Canadian for tonight. Has he arrived?

People often ask for Canadians for their accent

and Scotsmen because of their kilt.

I have the Baron upstairs.

When he comes down, he shouldn't see you.

I don't want you to misjudge me.

This house doesn't bring me as much as you think.

It's just... to please the Baron

and cheer up his old days.

Come on, boys! Get in the subway!

There was no siren!

- Stay here! - She's gonna take our skin, Bertha!

I was thinking about Jupien's house, now possibly turned to ashes,

because a bomb fell close by as I walked away.

This house, about which M. de Charlus

could have prophetically written "Sodom".

God, Virgin Mary, I thought you were dead, sir!

And we in the cellar, we thought it was the end!

Before the bombs fall, M. de Saint-Loup came to

see if he didn't drop his Military Cross

during the visit he paid you not long ago.

He just realized he'd lost it. And he has to go back to the re...

I had no doubt where he had lost his cross.

...found nothing.

Go to bed, Françoise. You too.

At the doctors' orders, I had to leave Paris

for another sanatorium, in the coming days.

Françoise! Explain what's going on!

The head waiter next door

informed me that M. le Marquis was shot dead.

- M de Saint-Loup! - Yes!

The head waiter thinks he'll be buried

at the church in Combray, with the other Guermantes.

Thank you, Françoise. If possible, please make no more noise.

I heard Robert was killed the day after he returned to the front,

while defending the withdrawal of his subordinates.

Mme la Duchesse it seems has not ceased to mourn the poor Marquis.

And his poor mother, how much could she cry!

If she only could see him!

But maybe it was better that she couldn't,

for his nose was cut in two.

It would have affected me too.

It's always more painful when it's people you know.

I couldn't console myself that Albertine's

and Saint-Loup's lives had been so short.

They often said, taking care of me, "You who are sick".

But it was they who died.

The new sanatorium in which I withdrew from the world for two long years

no more cured me than the first.

Along the train route, as I finally returned to Paris,

the thought of my absence of literary gifts struck me again

with a force more stark than ever.

There was a train stop in the countryside.

The sun lit up a line of trees.

Trees, I thought, not having anything to tell me anymore.

My chilled heart can no longer hear you.

If ever I thought to be a poet, now I know I'm not.

- Oh! - Baron!

Behind you, on that column,

there is a poster...

similar to that one...

in front of which I was when I first saw you.

At Balbec.

Indeed.

I had an apoplectic attack.

- Did you know? - Yes, sir.

And I'm glad to see you recovered.

Bréauté, dead.

Saint-Loup, dead.

Swann, dead.

Talleyrand, dead.

Montmorency, dead.

Baron...

The baron is fine now, but I dare not leave him alone.

He's always the same. Still a runner, like a young man.

Oh my God! Look, he's found a way to chat with a young gardener!

Good bye, sir.

Despite my long absences, my old relationships

continued to send me invitations.

On my arrival I found one to a matinee of the Prince de Guermantes.

I had no reason to deprive myself of the life of a man of the world,

since I still knew for sure that I was no longer good for anything else.

But it happens, in a moment where everything seems lost,

a warning appears which can save us.

My discouragement had just disappeared

before the same happiness that had given me, once,

the flavor of the madeleine soaked in tea, on a winter day.

The sensation I once felt by stumbling in the same way

over the tiles of the Piazza San Marco

suddenly took me to Venice, with all the sensations of that day.

If Monsieur deigns to wait a moment in the library...

The Princess has forbidden us to open the doors of the salon

during the performance of the song.

Monsieur...

One would have said the signs which that day must draw me out of my discouragement

seemed to want to multiply.

The serviette was as stiff and laundered

as those from the Grand-Hôtel at Balbec.

And, in front of the library of the Guermantes residence,

was deployed the plumage of an ocean as green and blue

as a peacock tail.

What was the cause of this happiness I had just felt?

These various euphoric impressions

had in common the fact that we experienced them

simultaneously in the current moment, and in a moment long past.

What the being, three or four times revived in me, just tasted,

were fragments of existence

stolen from time.

Only this being had the power to find in myself former days,

lost time.

An enterprise in which efforts of my memory and intelligence always failed.

Today in the library of the Guermantes,

I understood that all these materials of the literary work

which I was about to undertake, represented my past life.

They came to me in frivolous pleasures,

in laziness, in tenderness, in pain

and stored by me without guessing their destination.

The spectacle I discovered gave me the impression of a masked ball.

Everyone seemed to have a head, often powdered,

which made them unrecognizable.

It was amazing to hear called "Châtellerault"

an old man with a silver mustache.

But the matinee's attraction was M. d'Argencourt,

once so stiff, solemn, now become a rag in tatters.

What a pleasure to see you,

you, my oldest friend.

"Her oldest friend..." She exaggerates.

Incredible! You're always the same.

You are amazing. You stay forever young.

An expression that makes sense only if we became old.

I've always regretted that you never married.

But who knows, maybe you are happier.

You'd have been of age of having children gone to war.

If they were killed, like our poor Robert,

sensitive as you are, you'd never have survived them.

Oh, here comes Jacques du Rozier.

He's a man of an uncommon intellectual stature.

A kind of genius.

This genius was Bloch. Bloch who has not entered this salon in 20 years.

How happy I am to see you!

I am too.

You take me for my mom.

Indeed, I'm starting to look a lot like her.

But how do you come to such populated matinees?

And which aren't suitable for you anymore?

In the eyes of the elderly who believed they stayed young,

as I thought about myself,

I saw myself as in the first truthful mirror I'd met.

The time that had passed for them had also passed for me.

I introduced myself to the lady of the house, the Princess de Guermantes.

I know she's not young anymore, but not long ago

you told me about her incomparable charm, her wonderful beauty.

It's not so great as you said.

The Princess de Guermantes I was talking about has died.

This is the ex-Mme Verdurin,

that the Prince, ruined by the German defeat,

married with her millions.

After the death of her husband, Mme Verdurin...

We'll make clan!

We will make clan, my little children. We will make clan.

I like this youth so smart, so participatory.

What musicians you are! Did you hear that?

What a talent!

- Princess. - Ah! Here he is! Here he is!

Our dear Morel. Our great artist.

My dear Princess...

I understood the anxiety which had seized me as I entered the salon

when the powdery faces had given me the notion of lost time.

At the moment of beginning my work,

I told myself not only: "Is there still time?"

but... "will I be able to?"

Dear God, when did I see you last?

Visiting Mme d'Agrigente.

It's true I often went there, my dear,

because Basin loved her at that time.

I tell you Gilberte de Saint-Loup is not a new relationship for me.

When Mme de Forcheville was called Mme Swann,

Basin definitely forbade me to receive her.

Dear God! If he was cheating on me, that could only flatter me,

because it made me younger.

But finally, we're not so bad, together.

We talk, we even love each other enough.

Come! Everyone come! Morel will play.

Come on! Come on!

If you'll allow me, I'll go get my daughter to introduce to you.

Many were for me the roads which led me to Mlle de Saint-Loup,

and, above all, the two great ways

where I had walked and dreamed so much.

The Guermantes way, with her father, Robert de Saint-Loup,

and the Méséglise way, Swann's way,

with Gilberte Swann, her mother.

She seemed very beautiful to me, still full of hope,

cheerful, formed from the years that I had lost.

She looked like my youth.

My little children! Quick!

Right now, in the residence of the Prince de Guermantes,

I heard the noise of my parents' steps showing M. Swann his way out.

This resilient, ferruginous, interminable fresh and shrill of the little doorbell

that informed me at last, that M. Swann had gone

and that mother would come up.

I heard them again. I even heard those,

who were still so far away in the past.

It was time to start.

Translated by selaflaure (serlaflaure@gmail.com)

corvusalbus revision