– No doubt. But I mean, everyone isn’t capable of it, you know. You’re probably not the highly strung type. As soon as I see that wife of the Minister for War contorting her face the way she does, I can’t help imitating her. You’ve no idea what it’s like to have a passionate nature like mine!
– Yes, you’re right, Mme Cottard said. I’ve heard she’s got a twitch. You see, Dr Cottard knows someone who moves in those exalted circles, and so when they meet they will talk …
– Or take the Head of Protocol at the Foreign Office – the man’s a hunchback. Well, would you believe, he’s only got to be in my house for five minutes and I can’t keep my hands off his hump! My husband says I’ll get him sacked one day. Well, what I say is, the Ministry be damned! Yes, the Ministry be damned! I really feel sometimes like having it printed on my letter-head. I’m sure you’ll think me very shocking, because you’re so well-meaning. But I must say I do enjoy getting a good dig at people from time to time! Life would be so dull otherwise.’
She went on talking about the Ministry as though it was Olympus. Changing the subject, Mme Swann said to Mme Cottard:
‘Aren’t you beautiful today! Is this one of Redfern’s creations?
– No, no, as you know, I’m a disciple of Raudnitz. In any case, it’s just something I’ve had remodelled.
– Well, I never! It’s so smart!
– How much would you say it cost? … No, no, only three figures.
– Three! But that’s giving it away! I was told the figure was three times as high.
– Well, that’s how history’s written, isn’t it?’62 said Mme Cottard. Then she drew Mme Swann’s attention to a necklet which she was wearing, a present from Odette herself:
‘Do you recognize this, Odette?’
A face might then appear round the edge of the door-curtain, its features set in a mime of polite and playful reluctance to interrupt: it was Swann: ‘Odette, I’ve got the Prince d’Agrigente with me in my study and he wishes to know whether he may come and pay his respects. What am I to say? – Tell him I’ll be delighted, of course!’ Odette would say, full of gratification, and quite unperturbed by the prospect of being visited by such a fashionable gentleman, something she had always been accustomed to, even as a courtesan. Swann went off to deliver the message; and he would soon come back with the Prince, unless in the meantime Mme Verdurin had made her entry. On marrying Odette, Swann had asked her to resign from ‘the little set’. For this he had many reasons; but even if he had had none, he would still have done so, by reason of a law of ingratitude which, quite without exception, demonstrates the improvidence of all go-betweens, or perhaps their disinterest. He had permitted Odette to exchange only two visits a year with Mme Verdurin, a number which seemed excessive to certain of the ‘regulars’ who were offended at the insult done to ‘the Patronne’, given that for so many years she had treated Odette and even Swann himself as her special favourites. Although the membership of the little clan included certain faithless souls who were capable of ‘welshing’ on certain evenings, so as to slip off and surreptitiously attend some function of Odette’s, and who if they were found out gave as an excuse their eagerness to meet Bergotte (the Patronne’s view being that he never went to the Swanns’, and was devoid of talent anyway, despite which she made constant attempts to, as she liked to put it, ‘bring him in’), it did also contain its extremists. They, in their disregard for the particular proprieties which can often dissuade others from whatever extreme course one may be urging upon them in one’s desire to do a disservice to someone else, had pressed Mme Verdurin, but to no avail, to sever all contact with Odette, and thus deprive her of the pleasure of saying with a laugh: ‘We don’t see much of the Patronne now, you know, not since the Schism. While my husband was still a bachelor, of course, there was no difficulty. But for a married couple, it’s not always easy … To be quite honest, M. Swann is not over-fond of old Mother Verdurin and he would not take kindly to my being among her boon companions. And I’m a very dutiful wife, you know.’ Swann would accompany Odette to a soirée of Mme Verdurin’s; but he made a point of not being at home for the latter’s return visit. So it was that if Mme Verdurin was present in the drawing-room, the Prince d’Agrigente was sure to come in alone. He was also the only man whom Odette ever introduced to Mme Verdurin; for her idea was that if ‘the Patronne’ was surrounded by faces unfamiliar to her, and if she heard the names of no obscurities being uttered, she might believe these people were all aristocrats of note, an idea which worked so well that Mme Verdurin would sneer that evening to her husband, ‘Charming people! She’s got all the reactionary bigwigs!’ As for Odette’s illusion about Mme Verdurin, it was the opposite one. Not that the latter’s salon at that time had even begun to aspire to the status which it will later be seen to have. Mme Verdurin had not even reached the stage of incubation, when one postpones one’s most lavish galas lest one’s few recently acquired celebrities should be swamped by the hoi polloi, and when one prefers to await the moment when the generative power of the ten good men and true whom one has managed to ‘bring in’ shall bring forth an hundredfold. As Odette’s was soon to be, Mme Verdurin’s aim was ‘Society’; but the zones in which she launched her offensives were still so restricted, as well as being remote from those in which Odette might hope to emulate her and begin to make a name for herself, that Odette lived in a state of utter ignorance of the strategic plans drawn up by the Patronne. So when anyone spoke of Mme Verdurin as a snob, it was with the simplest sincerity that Odette would laugh and say, ‘No, no, she’s the exact opposite! I mean, she just hasn’t got the basic requirement – she doesn’t know anybody! And to be fair, you must admit that’s how she likes to be. You see, what she really likes is those little Wednesday gatherings of hers, with those inoffensive people who drop in for a chat.’ However, Odette did nurse a surreptitious envy of Mme Verdurin’s mastery of those arts (though she rather prided herself too on having picked up the rudiments of them from such an Oracle) to which the Patronne attached so much importance, though all they ever do is refine the nicer quibbles of non-existence, give vacancy its shape, being in the strictest sense those Arts of Naught practised by hostesses: the ability to ‘bring people together’, to ‘bring people out’, to ‘match guests with one another’, to ‘be present but invisible’, to be ‘a good go-between’.
The other ladies who visited Mme Swann were certainly impressed to see her drawing-room graced by a woman whom they generally pictured in her own salon, set within the perpetual frame of her habitués, her little group which seemed startlingly present, suggested, epitomized and condensed in the single person sitting in her armchair, the Patronne herself turned into someone else’s guest, cosily wrapped in her great grebe-lined coat, as downy as the white fur rugs strewn in this salon, where Mme Verdurin was herself a salon. The shyest women, deciding it would now be discreet for them to withdraw, said to their hostess, with that plural which people use when trying to hint to an invalid’s other visitors that it would be best not to tire her too much on her first day out of bed, ‘We must be off now, Odette.’ Mme Cottard was envied when the Patronne used her first name. ‘Shall I whisk you away home, then?’ Mme Verdurin said, irked by the thought that one of her regulars might be going to stay there rather than leave with her. ‘Well, actually, this dear lady has very kindly offered to give me a lift,’ Mme Cottard replied, loth to let it appear that she might give precedence to a more famous person over Mme Bontemps, whose offer of a lift in the carriage with its ministerial insignia she had already accepted.
‘I must confess I am particularly grateful to dear friends who are kind enough to make room for me in their carriages. Having no Jehu myself, I must say it’s too good an offer to decline. – Yes, of course, replied the Patronne, choosing her words with care, as she was slightly acquainted with Mme Bontemps and had just invited her to one of her Wednesdays. Especially since you’re so far out of your way here at Madame de Crécy’s – oh, goodness me,
what have I said? I’ll never get into the habit of saying “Madame Swann”!’ Among those of Mme Verdurin’s regulars who had little wit of their own, it was a standing joke to pretend that you could not get used to speaking of Odette as ‘Madame Swann’: ‘I tell you, I got so accustomed to referring to Madame de Crécy that I nearly went and said it again by mistake!’ Mme Verdurin, the only one not to nearly say it by mistake, said it on purpose. ‘Odette, aren’t you rather frightened by living in such a god-forsaken part of town? I’m sure if I lived hereabouts I’d quake in my shoes at having to come all this way after dark. And it’s so damp! I shouldn’t think it can be very good for your husband’s eczema. You haven’t got rats, I trust? – Heavens above! The very idea! – Well, that’s all right at least. Only, someone said you did. I’m glad to hear it’s not true, because I have an utter phobia of rats and I should never have set foot here again. So, good-bye, my dear sweet Odette. I do hope to see you soon. You know how pleased I am to see you. You’re not very good at arranging chrysanthemums, are you?’ she added on the way out, as Mme Swann was moving towards the door with her. ‘These are Japanese flowers, you know. They should be arranged as the Japanese do them. – I don’t agree with Madame Verdurin, although I must say her word is gospel for me. But really, Odette, no one has such beautiful chrysanthemums as you – or rather chrysanthema, as I believe we’re supposed to say nowadays, said Mme Cottard after the door had closed on the Patronne. – Dear, sweet Madame Verdurin is not always very kind to other people’s flowers, Mme Swann replied gently. – So, who’s your flower-man?’ asked Mme Cottard, cutting short such criticism of the Patronne.
‘Is it Lemaître? I must admit there was a great big pink shrub outside Lemaître’s the other day, and I threw economy to the winds!’ Her sense of decency prevented her from going into the details of the price she had paid for the shrub; she said no more than that the Professor ‘who was after all the soul of mildness’ had nearly had a fit, and told her she spent money like water! ‘No, actually, my only florist “by appointment” is Debac. – Yes, he’s mine too,’ said Mme Cottard. But I confess to having been occasionally unfaithful to him and frequenting Lachaume. – Ooh! Infidelities with Lachaume! I’ll tell on you!’ exclaimed Odette, always trying to be the witty hostess who keeps the conversation going, which she felt she managed better at home than at the Verdurins’. ‘Actually, Lachaume charges too much now. His prices are quite exorbitant.’ Then, with a laugh, she added, ‘His prices are quite indecent!’
Mme Bontemps, who had declared a hundred times that she had no desire to go to the Verdurins’, was overjoyed to be invited and was wondering how she could make sure of attending as many of the Wednesdays as possible. She was unaware that Mme Verdurin’s wish was that her guests should attend every single week. Also, she was one of those people whose company is not much sought after and who, having been invited to a ‘run’ of functions by the same hostess, instead of responding like those who know they will always be welcome, and who go to her house whenever they have the opportunity and the desire to go out, decide to abstain from the first and third occasions in the belief that they will be missed, but make a point of attending the second and the fourth; or else, having been assured that the third one will be a particularly brilliant soirée, they arrange their absences in a different sequence, and then apologize by saying ‘what a pity they weren’t free last time’. So Mme Bontemps calculated how many Wednesdays there were between now and Easter and how she could manage to get herself invited to an extra one without seeming too forward. She was relying on Mme Cottard to give her some hints about this during the drive home. ‘Oh, Mme Bontemps!’ exclaimed Mme Swann. ‘I see you’re getting to your feet! I’ll have you know it’s very naughty of you to be giving the signal for a general withdrawal. You’ve got to make amends, don’t you know, for last Thursday when you didn’t come. So, just sit down again for a minute. I mean, your’e not going to fit in another visit between now and dinner-time, are you? No? Are you quite sure?’ she added, proffering a plate of cakes. ‘Do have one of these little chaps. They may not look like very much, but if you just try one, you’ll be very glad you did. – Mmm, they do look delicious, Mme Cottard said. One is never short of a bite to eat at your house, Odette. I don’t need to ask where these came from. I know you have your standing order at Rebattet’s. I must say I’m not as single-minded as you – for little cakes and all delicacies, I often order from Bourbonneux. But I admit they don’t really know about ices. Whereas Rebattet’s are artists when it comes to ice cream or mousses or sherbets. As my husband says, they’re just the ne plus ultra. – Well, actually, these are home-made. Are you quite sure you won’t? – No, really, said Mme Bontemps. I’ll have no appetite left for dinner. But I will sit down for a moment. I do so enjoy conversing with a woman as intelligent as yourself. Odette, you may think I’m a great gossip, but I’d love to know what you think of that hat Mme Trombert was wearing. I know that large hats are very fashionable at the moment. But doesn’t that one go a bit far? Although mind you, it’s minute compared to the one she had on the other day when she came to me. – I’m not intelligent, Odette replied, thinking this a becoming thing to say. Really, I’m quite gullible. I’m just a woman who believes whatever she’s told and who breaks her heart over a trifle.’ She insinuated that, in the early days of marriage, she had suffered much from life with a man like Swann, who had a life of his own and was unfaithful to her. The Prince d’ Agrigente, who had caught the words ‘I’m not intelligent’ and thought it behoved him to protest, was not quick-witted enough to interject. ‘Oh, come now! exclaimed Mme Bontemps. Not intelligent? You? – My sentiments exactly! the Prince said, grateful for this assistance. I was just about to say “What’s that I hear?” I must be hearing things. – No, no, I assure you, said Odette. At heart I’m really just a little middle-class housewife, easily shocked, full of prejudices, living in her small corner and very ignorant about everything.’ Then, taking care to use the English word, she asked the Prince for news of the Baron de Charlus: ‘What news of dear baronet? – Ignorant? You? exclaimed Mme Bontemps. Well, I never! If you’re ignorant, what about the world of officialdom, what about all those ministers’ wives who have nothing better to talk about than clothes! Let me tell you, Madame Swann, no more than a week ago I decided to try a mention of Lohengrin on the wife of the Minister of Education. Do you know what she said? ‘Lohengrin?’ she said. ‘Isn’t that the new revue at the Folies-Bergère? I’m told it’s hilarious.’ Believe you me, when you hear that sort of thing, it makes your blood boil! I felt like slapping her face. I don’t mind saying I’ve got a bit of a temper. Would you not agree, Monsieur? she added, turning towards me. Was I not right to feel like that? – Well, actually, said Mme Cottard, I do think one is quite within one’s rights to answer back if one is bombarded with a question like that, point blank and without warning. I know what it feels like – it’s exactly the sort of thing Mme Verdurin likes doing. – Oh, speaking of Mme Verdurin, Mme Bontemps said to her, do you know who she’s likely to be having at her Wednesday this week? Oh dear, I’ve just remembered – M. Bontemps and I have been invited somewhere else this Wednesday! What would you say to dining with us the following Wednesday? You and I could then go on together to Mme Verdurin’s. I’m rather apprehensive about turning up there all by myself. She’s such a great personage, as you know, and for some reason I’ve always been intimidated by her. – I know why that is, said Mme Cottard. It’s because of her imposing voice. I mean we can’t expect everybody to have the mellifluous tones of our Mme Swann, can we? But you’ll see, after the first moment spent sizing each other up, as the Patronne says, the ice will soon be broken. She’s really a most welcoming person. But I can understand the feeling. It’s never very nice to venture into new territory like that. – You could join us for dinner too, Mme Bontemps said to Mme Swann. Then after dinner all three of us could go and Verdurinate together, I mean Verdurinize. And if it turns out that the Patronne just glares at m
e and decides not to invite me again, the three of us can sit there and keep each other company. I’m sure that would be rather nice.’ Then, casting some doubt on the veracity of this, Mme Bontemps asked: ‘Who do you think she’ll be having the following Wednesday? What will she have on the programme, do you think? She wouldn’t have too many people there, would she? – Well, I for one shan’t be going, said Odette. We’ll just look in briefly at the last Wednesday of the run. If you don’t mind waiting till then …’ Mme Bontemps did not seem enraptured by this suggested adjournment.
In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower Page 23
