The five minutes stretched to an hour, after which Noemie came and escorted an enraged Charlus and a disconsolate Jupien on tiptoe to a door which stood ajar, telling them: "You'll see splendidly from here. However, it's not very interesting just as present. He's with three ladies, and he's telling them about his army life." At length the Baron was able to see through the cleft of the door and also the reflexion in the mirrors beyond. But a mortal terror forced him to lean back against the wall. It was indeed Morel that he saw before him, but, as though the pagan mysteries and magic spells still existed, it was rather the shade of Morel, Morel embalmed, not even Morel restored to like like Lazarus, an apparition of Morel, a phantom of Morel, Morel "walking" or "called up" in this room (in which the walls and couches everywhere repeated the emblems of sorcery), that was visible a few feet away from him, in profile. Morel had, as happens to the dead, lost all his colour; among these women, with whom one might have expected him to be making merry, he remained livid, fixed in an artificial immobility; to drink the glass of champagne that stood before him, his listless arm tried in vain to reach out, and dropped back again. One had the impression of that ambiguous state implied by a religion which speaks of immortality but means thereby something that does not exclude extinction. The women were plying him with questions: "You see," Mlle Noemie whispered to the Baron, "they're talking to him about his army life. It's amusing, isn't it?" - here she laughed - "You're glad you came? He's calm, isn't he," she added, as though she were speaking of a dying man. The women's questions came thick and fast, but Morel, inanimate, had not the strength to answer them. Even the miracle of a whispered word did not occur. M. de Charlus hesitated for barely a moment before he grasped what had really happened,namely that - whether from clumsiness on Jupien's part when he had called to make the arrangements, or from the expansive power of secrets once confided which ensures that they are never kept, or from the natural indiscretion of these women, or from their fear of the police - Morel had been told that two gentlemen had paid a large sum to be allowed to spy on him, unseen hands had spirited the Prince de Guermantes, metamorphosed into three women, and the unhappy Morel had been placed, trembling, paralysed with fear, in such a position that if M. de Charlus could scarcely see him, he, terrified, speechless, not daring to lift his glass for fear of letting it fall, had a perfect view of the Baron.
Marcel Proust, Cities of the Plain, pp. 1116-1117
The plot of M. de Charlus and Jupien comes to nothing because all they discover in the room is Morel and three women, in a very staged performance with the women asking him questions about his army life. The mistress of the brothel asks the Baron, "You're glad you came?" M. de Charlus quickly figures out that somehow their secret plan was discovered, and "unseen hands had spirited the Prince de Guermantes, metamorphosed into three women. . ." Proust's description of the Morel that the Baron saw through the cleft of the door is brilliantly otherworldly: "But a mortal terror forced him to lean back against the wall. It was indeed Morel that he saw before him, but, as though the pagan mysteries and magic spells still existed, it was rather the shade of Morel, Morel embalmed, not even Morel restored to like like Lazarus, an apparition of Morel, a phantom of Morel, Morel "walking" or "called up" in this room (in which the walls and couches everywhere repeated the emblems of sorcery), that was visible a few feet away from him, in profile. Morel had, as happens to the dead, lost all his colour. . ." I think the description is both metaphoric and realistic. It is a fitting metaphor for a Morel who was now all but dead to the Baron, but it was also an accurate description of a terrified Morel who was almost caught. I can't help but wonder if the Baron's "mortal terror" had less to do with Morel's infidelity or his time spent with women or the fact that M. de Charlus realized how terribly old and foolish he was. As a man who is increasingly old and foolish I'm leaning to that possibility.
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