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had not the same susceptibility with regard to him; and be-
sides, his was a nature which, though, no doubt, it was cold,
was as incapable of a base as of a magnanimous action.
Swann regretted that he had formed no attachments in his
life except to such people. Then he reflected that what pre-
vents men from doing harm to their neighbours is
fellow-feeling, that he could not, in the last resort, answer
for any but men whose natures were analogous to his own,
as was, so far as the heart went, that of M. de Charlus. The
mere thought of causing Swann so much distress would
have been revolting to him. But with a man who was insen-
sible, of another order of humanity, as was the Prince des
Laumes, how was one to foresee the actions to which he
might be led by the promptings of a different nature? To
have a good heart was everything, and M. de Charlus had
one. But M. d’Orsan was not lacking in that either, and his
relations with Swann—cordial, but scarcely intimate, aris-
ing from the pleasure which, as they held the same views
about everything, they found in talking together—were
more quiescent than the enthusiastic affection of M. de
Charlus, who was apt to be led into passionate activity, good
or evil. If there was anyone by whom Swann felt that he had
always been understood, and (with delicacy) loved, it was
M. d’Orsan. Yes, but the life he led; it could hardly be called
honourable. Swann regretted that he had never taken any
notice of those rumours, that he himself had admitted, jest-
ingly, that he had never felt so keen a sense of sympathy, or
of respect, as when he was in thoroughly ‘detrimental’ soci-
ety. ‘It is not for nothing,’ he now assured himself, ‘that
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