Page 258 - swanns-way
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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