This time, Albertine had returned to Paris earlier than usual. As a rule, she did not arrive until the spring, so that, already disturbed for some weeks past by the storms that were beating down the first flowers, I did not distinguish, in the pleasure that I felt, the return of Albertine from that of the fine weather. It was enough that I should be told that she was in Paris and that she had called at my house, for me to see her again like a rose flowering by the sea. I cannot say whether it was the desire for Balbec or for her that took possession of me there, perhaps my desire for her was itself a lazy, cowardly, and incomplete form of possessing Balbec, as if to possess a thing materially, to take up residence in a town, were tantamount to possessing it spiritually. Besides, even materially, when she was no longer swaying in my imagination before a horizon of sea, but motionless in a room beside me, she seemed to me often a very poor specimen of a rose, so much so that I wanted to shut my eyes in order not to observe this or that blemish of its petals, and to imagine instead that I was inhaling the salt air on the beach.
I may say all this here, although I was not then aware of what was to happen later on. Certain, it is more reasonable to devote one's life to women than to postage stamps, or old snuff-boxes, even to pictures or statues. But the example of other collections should be a warning to use to diversify, to have not one woman only but several. Those charming associations that a young girl affords with a sea-short, with the braided tresses of a statue in a church, with an old print, with everything that causes one to love in her, whenever she appears, a delightful picture, those associations are not very stable. Live with a woman altogether and you will soon cease to see any of the things that made you love her; though it is true that the true sundered elements can be reunited by jealousy. If, after a long period of living together, I was to end by seeing no more in Albertine than an ordinary woman, an intrigue between her and some she had loved at Balbec would still perhaps have sufficed to reincorporate in her, to amalgamate with her, the beach and the unrolling of the tide. But these secondary associations no longer captivate our eyes; it is to the heart that they are perceptible and fatal. We cannot, under so dangerous a form, regard the renewal of the miracle as a thing to be desired. But I am anticipating the course of years. And here I need only register my regret that I did not have the sense simply to keep my collection of women as people keep their collections of old quizzing glasses, never so complete, in their cabinet, that there is not room always for another and rarer still.
Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way, pp. 364-365
Albertine has reentered Marcel's life, and he's honest in that he, upon reflection, can't decide whether it was a desire for you or a desire for his time with her and her friends at Balbec that is attracting him. "I cannot say whether it was the desire for Balbec or for her that took possession of me there, perhaps my desire for her was itself a lazy, cowardly, and incomplete form of possessing Balbec, as if to possess a thing materially, to take up residence in a town, were tantamount to possessing it spiritually." It does bring up the question of how much of our desire for a woman is actually a desire for a fleeting connection to a remembered, or romanticized, past. Marcel also points out that he didn't know that at the time, of course, but only late.
With the wisdom - and cynicism - of experience he's really not certain if devoting yourself to one woman is even a logical idea. Proust writes, "Certainly, it is more reasonable to devote one's life to women than to postage stamps, or old snuff-boxes, even to pictures or statues. But the example of other collections should be a warning to use to diversify, to have not one woman only but several." Just as one should diversify one's investments in the stock market, one should diversity one's investment in women. Maybe one of them will actually pay off. "And here I need only register my regret that I did not have the sense simply to keep my collection of women as people keep their collections of old quizzing glasses, never so complete, in their cabinet, that there is not room always for another and rarer still." Of course, how much of this statement is a fabricated cold world-weariness which passes for experience. No matter how we read the passage, at the very least his feelings for Albertine have definitely changed - at least for the moment.
He adds, "Live with a woman altogether and you will soon cease to see any of the things that made you love her; though it is true that the true sundered elements can be reunited by jealousy." Again, is this true world-weariness or merely posing to appear more "sophisticated" than he really is. However, there is definitely some truth to the observation, and maybe that is what has drawn Albertine back to him. Is she lonely or she is jealous, in this case not of a particular woman, but a life that he is leading that does not include her. Women are often jealous, although less of other women than of an imagined world that doesn't feature them.
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