Page 22 - swanns-way

of the behaviour of M. Swann the elder upon the death of
his wife, by whose bedside he had watched day and night.
My grandfather, who had not seen him for a long time, has-
tened to join him at the Swanns’ family property on the
outskirts of Combray, and managed to entice him for a mo-
ment, weeping profusely, out of the death-chamber, so that
he should not be present when the body was laid in its cof-
fin. They took a turn or two in the park, where there was a
little sunshine. Suddenly M. Swann seized my grandfather
by the arm and cried, ‘Oh, my dear old friend, how fortu-
nate we are to be walking here together on such a charming
day! Don’t you see how pretty they are, all these trees—my
hawthorns, and my new pond, on which you have never
congratulated me? You look as glum as a night-cap. Don’t
you feel this little breeze? Ah! whatever you may say, it’s
good to be alive all the same, my dear Amédée!’ And then,
abruptly, the memory of his dead wife returned to him, and
probably thinking it too complicated to inquire into how,
at such a time, he could have allowed himself to be carried
away by an impulse of happiness, he confined himself to a
gesture which he habitually employed whenever any per-
plexing question came into his mind: that is, he passed his
hand across his forehead, dried his eyes, and wiped his glass-
es. And he could never be consoled for the loss of his wife,
but used to say to my grandfather, during the two years for
which he survived her, ‘It’s a funny thing, now; I very often
think of my poor wife, but I cannot think of her very much
at any one time.’ ‘Often, but a little at a time, like poor old
Swann,’ became one of my grandfather’s favourite phrases,

22 Swann’s Way