era, by some excursion to the
country--from some party to which she had never for a moment dreamed of
going. In this way she gave many people the satisfaction of feeling that
she was on intimate terms with them, that she would gladly have come to
their houses, and that she had been prevented from doing so only by some
princely occurrence which they were flattered to find competing with
their own humble entertainment. And then, as she belonged to that
witty 'Guermantes set'--in which there survived something of the
alert mentality, stripped of all commonplace phrases and conventional
sentiments, which dated from Merimee, and found its final expression in
the plays of Meilhac and Halevy--she adapted its formula so as to suit
even her social engagements, transposed it into the courtesy which was
always struggling to be positive and precise, to approximate itself to
the plain truth. She would never develop at any length to a hostess the
expression of her anxiety to be present at her party; she found it more
pleasant to disclose to her all the various little incidents on which it
would depend whether it was or was not possible for her to come.

"Listen, and I'll explain," she began to Mme. de Gallardon. "To-morrow
evening I must go to a friend of mine, who has been pestering me to fix
a day for ages. If she takes us to the theatre afterwards, then I can't
possibly come to you, much as I should love to; but if we just stay in
the house, I know there won't be anyone else there, so I can slip away."

"Tell me, have you seen your friend M. Swann?"

"No! my precious Charles! I never knew he was here. Where is he? I must
catch his eye."

"It's a funny thing that he should come to old Saint-Euverte's," Mme. de
Gallardon went on. "Oh, I know he's very clever," meaning by that 'very
cunning,' "but that makes no difference; fancy a Jew here, and she the
sister and sister-in-law of two Archbishops."

"I am ashamed to confess that I am not in the least shocked," said the
Princesse des Laumes.

"I know he's a converted Jew, and all that, and his parents and
grandparents before him. But they do say that the converted ones are
worse about their religion than the practising ones, that it's all just
a pretence; is that true, d'you think?"

"I can throw no light at all on the matter."

The pianist, who was 'down' to play two pieces by Chopin, after
finishing the Prelude had at once attacked a Polonaise. But once Mme.
de Gallardon had