Page 153 - swanns-way

with a soldier or a fireman, whose uniform makes them less
particular about his face; they kiss and believe that beneath
the crushing breastplate there beats a heart different from
the rest, more gallant, more adventurous, more tender; and
so it is that a young king or a crown prince may travel in for-
eign countries and make the most gratifying conquests, and
yet lack entirely that regular and classic profile which would
be indispensable, I dare say, in an outside-broker.
While I was reading in the garden, a thing my great-aunt
would never have understood my doing save on a Sunday,
that being the day on which it was unlawful to indulge in
any serious occupation, and on which she herself would lay
aside her sewing (on a week-day she would have said, ‘How
you can go on amusing yourself with a book; it isn’t Sunday,
you know!’ putting into the word ‘amusing’ an implication
of childishness and waste of time), my aunt Léonie would be
gossiping with Françoise until it was time for Eulalie to ar-
rive. She would tell her that she had just seen Mme. Goupil
go by ‘without an umbrella, in the silk dress she had made
for her the other day at Châteaudun. If she has far to go be-
fore vespers, she may get it properly soaked.’
‘Very likely’ (which meant also ‘very likely not’) was the
answer, for Françoise did not wish definitely to exclude the
possibility of a happier alternative.
‘There, now,’ went on my aunt, beating her brow, ‘that
reminds me that I never heard if she got to church this
morning before the Elevation. I must remember to ask Eu-
lalie... Françoise, just look at that black cloud behind the
steeple, and how poor the light is on the slates, you may be

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