Une page de Proust au hasard:
0104 Quelquefois il espérait qu’elle mourrait sans souffrances dans un accident
Ne pouvant se séparer d’elle sans retour, du moins, s’il l’avait vue sans séparations, sa douleur aurait fini par s’apaiser et peut-être son amour par s’éteindre. Et du moment qu’elle ne voulait pas quitter Paris à jamais, il eût souhaité qu’elle ne le quittât jamais. Du moins comme il savait que la seule grande absence qu’elle faisait était tous les ans celle d’août et septembre, il avait le loisir plusieurs mois d’avance d’en dissoudre l’idée amère dans tout le Temps à venir qu’il portait en lui par anticipation et qui, composé de jours homogènes aux jours actuels, circulait transparent et froid en son esprit où il entretenait la tristesse, mais sans lui causer de trop vives souffrances. Mais cet avenir intérieur, ce fleuve, incolore, et libre, voici qu’une seule parole d’Odette venait l’atteindre jusqu’en Swann et, comme un morceau de glace, l’immobilisait, durcissait sa fluidité, le faisait geler tout entier; et Swann s’était senti soudain rempli d’une masse énorme et infrangible qui pesait sur les parois intérieures de son être jusqu’à le faire éclater: c’est qu’Odette lui avait dit, avec un regard souriant et sournois qui l’observait: «Forcheville va faire un beau voyage, à la Pentecôte. Il va en Égypte», et Swann avait aussitôt compris que cela signifiait: «Je vais aller en Égypte à la Pentecôte avec Forcheville.» Et en effet, si quelques jours après, Swann lui disait: «Voyons, à propos de ce voyage que tu m’as dit que tu ferais avec Forcheville», elle répondait étourdiment: «Oui, mon petit, nous partons le 19, on t’enverra une vue des Pyramides.» Alors il voulait apprendre si elle était la maîtresse de Forcheville, le lui demander à elle-même. Il savait que, superstitieuse comme elle était, il y avait certains parjures qu’elle ne ferait pas et puis la crainte, qui l’avait retenu jusqu’ici, d’irriter Odette en l’interrogeant, de se faire détester d’elle, n’existait plus maintenant qu’il avait perdu tout espoir d’en être jamais aimé.
SUR LE MEME THEME:
- DU COTE DE CHEZ SWANN - SWANN'S WAY - PROUST
- UN AMOUR DE SWANN
- 0115 Jadis ayant souvent pensé avec terreur qu’un jour il cesserait d’être épris d’Odette
- 0114 Le peintre ayant été malade, le docteur Cottard lui conseilla un voyage en mer
- 0113 Quelquefois il allait dans des maisons de rendezvous, espérant apprendre quelque chose d’elle
PROUST
TAGS
FILMS7
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - MANDINKA - CLIP
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - MANDINKA
- ET MAXENCE EN CONCERT : 15 DECEMBRE AUX DISQUAIRES, PARIS BASTILLE
- SOPHIE MULLER
- SINEAD O'CONNOR : Thank You For Hearing Me LIVE
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - Silent Night - Malcolm McLaren's The Ghosts Of Oxford Street
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - Fire on Babylon - LIVE
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - This is a rebel song- LIVE
- SINEAD O'CONNOR : Thank You For Hearing Me Thank you for loving me - LIVE
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - I Am Enough For Myself - Nirvana song : All Apologies
- SINEAD O'CONNOR - INTERVIEW MTV - PAINTING
- Shane MacGowan & Sinéad O'Connor - Haunted - LIVE 1995
- JOHANNES - FANTOMATIC ORCHESTRA : ORPHEE ET EURYDICE
- CECILE CORBEL
- CONSTANCE VERLUCA, NUMERO 1 - MISS SPACE TOP 10 MENSUEL - 30 NOVEMBRE
- Ruthie Henshall : All That Jazz
- Ruthie Henshall, John Barrowman, Mica Paris : Musical Medley
- Ruthie Henshall - Hello Dolly !
- Ruthie Henshall - All That Jazz (CHICAGO)
- Les zazous - Brigitte Fontaine et M


0104 Sometimes he hoped that she would die, painlessly
Marcel Proust
"Remembrance of Things Past" (In Search of Lost Time),
translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff (1889-1930)
Sometimes he hoped that she would die, painlessly, in some accident, she who was out of doors in the streets, crossing busy thoroughfares, from morning to night. And as she always returned safe and sound, he marvelled at the strength, at the suppleness of the human body, which was able continually to hold in check, to outwit all the perils that environed it (which to Swann seemed innumerable, since his own secret desire had strewn them in her path), and so allowed its occupant, the soul, to abandon itself, day after day, and almost with impunity, to its career of mendacity, to the pursuit of pleasure. And Swann felt a very cordial sympathy with that Mahomet II whose portrait by Bellini he admired, who, on finding that he had fallen madly in love with one of his wives, stabbed her, in order, as his Venetian biographer artlessly relates, to recover his spiritual freedom. Then he would be ashamed of thinking thus only of himself, and his own sufferings would seem to deserve no pity now that he himself was disposing so cheaply of Odette’s very life.
Since he was unable to separate himself from her without a subsequent return, if at least he had seen her continuously and without separations his grief would ultimately have been assuaged, and his love would, perhaps, have died. And from the moment when she did not wish to leave Paris for ever he had hoped that she would never go. As he knew that her one prolonged absence, every year, was in August and September, he had abundant opportunity, several months in advance, to dissociate from it the grim picture of her absence throughout Eternity which was lodged in him by anticipation, and which, consisting of days closely akin to the days through which he was then passing, floated in a cold transparency in his mind, which it saddened and depressed, though without causing him any intolerable pain. But that conception of the future, that flowing stream, colourless and unconfined, a single word from Odette sufficed to penetrate through all Swann’s defences, and like a block of ice immobilised it, congealed its fluidity, made it freeze altogether; and Swann felt himself suddenly filled with an enormous and unbreakable mass which pressed on the inner walls of his consciousness until he was fain to burst asunder; for Odette had said casually, watching him with a malicious smile: “Forcheville is going for a fine trip at Whitsuntide. He’s going to Egypt!” and Swann had at once understood that this meant: “I am going to Egypt at Whitsuntide with Forcheville.” And, in fact, if, a few days later, Swann began: “About that trip that you told me you were going to take with Forcheville,” she would answer carelessly: “Yes, my dear boy, we’re starting on the l9th; we’ll send you a ‘view’ of the Pyramids.” Then he was determined to know whether she was Forcheville’s mistress, to ask her point-blank, to insist upon her telling him. He knew that there were some perjuries which, being so superstitious, she would not commit, and besides, the fear, which had hitherto restrained his curiosity, of making Odette angry if he questioned her, of making himself odious, had ceased to exist now that he had lost all hope of ever being loved by her.