Page 52 - swanns-way

tition among his offspring.
‘I fancy he has a lot of trouble with that wretched wife of
his, who ‘lives’ with a certain Monsieur de Charlus, as all
Combray knows. It’s the talk of the town.’
My mother observed that, in spite of this, he had looked
much less unhappy of late. ‘And he doesn’t nearly so often
do that trick of his, so like his father, of wiping his eyes and
passing his hand across his forehead. I think myself that in
his heart of hearts he doesn’t love his wife any more.’
‘Why, of course he doesn’t,’ answered my grandfather.
‘He wrote me a letter about it, ages ago, to which I took care
to pay no attention, but it left no doubt as to his feelings,
let alone his love for his wife. Hullo! you two; you never
thanked him for the Asti!’ he went on, turning to his sis-
ters-in-law.
‘What! we never thanked him? I think, between you and
me, that I put it to him quite neatly,’ replied my aunt Flora.
‘Yes, you managed it very well; I admired you for it,’ said
my aunt Céline.
‘But you did it very prettily, too.’
‘Yes; I liked my expression about ‘nice neighbours.’’
‘What! Do you call that thanking him?’ shouted my
grandfather. ‘I heard that all right, but devil take me if I
guessed it was meant for Swann. You may be quite sure he
never noticed it.’
‘Come, come; Swann is not a fool. I am positive he appre-
ciated the compliment. You didn’t expect me to tell him the
number of bottles, or to guess what he paid for them.’
My father and mother were left alone and sat down for a

52 Swann’s Way