Page 140 - swanns-way

Next, Bloch had displeased my grandmother because, af-
ter luncheon, when she complained of not feeling very well,
he had stifled a sob and wiped the tears from his eyes.
‘You cannot imagine that he is sincere,’ she observed to
me. ‘Why he doesn’t know me. Unless he’s mad, of course.’
And finally he had upset the whole household when he
arrived an hour and a half late for luncheon and covered
with mud from head to foot, and made not the least apol-
ogy, saying merely: ‘I never allow myself to be influenced in
the smallest degree either by atmospheric disturbances or
by the arbitrary divisions of what is known as Time. I would
willingly reintroduce to society the opium pipe of China or
the Malayan kriss, but I am wholly and entirely without
instruction in those infinitely more per-nicious (besides be-
ing quite bleakly bourgeois) implements, the umbrella and
the watch.’
In spite of all this he would still have been received at
Combray. He was, of course, hardly the friend my parents
would have chosen for me; they had, in the end, decided
that the tears which he had shed on hearing of my grand-
mother’s illness were genuine enough; but they knew, either
instinctively or from their own experience, that our early
impulsive emo-tions have but little influence over our lat-
er actions and the conduct of our lives; and that regard for
moral obligations, loyalty to our friends, patience in fin-
ishing our work, obedience to a rule of life, have a surer
foundation in habits solidly formed and blindly followed
than in these momentary transports, ardent but sterile.
They would have preferred to Bloch, as companions for

140 Swann’s Way