Page 258 - swanns-way
P. 258

panions a clump of daffodils, come out before their time,
         a few primroses, the first in flower, while here and there
         burned the blue flame of a violet, its stem bent beneath the
         weight of the drop of perfume stored in its tiny horn. The
         Pont-Vieux led to a tow-path which, at this point, would be
         overhung in summer by the bluish foliage of a hazel, under
         which a fisherman in a straw hat seemed to have taken root.
         At Combray, where I knew everyone, and could always de-
         tect the blacksmith or grocer’s boy through his disguise of a
         beadle’s uniform or chorister’s surplice, this fisherman was
         the only person whom I was never able to identify. He must
         have known my family, for he used to raise his hat when
         we passed; and then I would always be just on the point of
         asking his name, when some one would make a sign to me
         to be quiet, or I would frighten the fish. We would follow
         the tow-path which ran along the top of a steep bank, sev-
         eral feet above the stream. The ground on the other side
         was lower, and stretched in a series of broad meadows as
         far as the village and even to the distant railway-station.
         Over these were strewn the remains, half-buried in the long
         grass, of the castle of the old Counts of Combray, who, dur-
         ing the Middle Ages, had had on this side the course of the
         Vivonne as a barrier and defence against attack from the
         Lords of Guermantes and Abbots of Martinville. Nothing
         was left now but a few stumps of towers, hummocks upon
         the broad surface of the fields, hardly visible, broken bat-
         tlements over which, in their day, the bowmen had hurled
         down stones, the watchmen had gazed out over Novepont,
         Clairefontaine, Martinville-le-Sec, Bailleau-l’Exempt, fiefs

         258                                     Swann’s Way
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