Not only did I no longer feel any love for her, but I no longer had to consider, as I might have at Balbec, the risk of shattering in her an affection for myself, since it no longer existed. There could be no doubt that she had long since become quite indifferent to me. I was well aware that to her I was no longer in any sense a member of the "little band" into which I had at one time so anxiously sought and had then been so happy to have secured admission. Besides, since she no longer even had, as in the Balbec days, an air of frank good nature, I felt no serious scruples. However, I think what finally decided me was another philological discovery. As, continuing to add fresh links to the external chain of talk behind which I had my inner desire, I spoke (having Albertine secure now on the corner of my bed) of one of the girls of the little band who was less striking than the rest but whom nevertheless I had thought quite pretty. "Yes," answered Albertine, "she reminds me of a little mousme." Clearly, when I first knew Albertine the word was unknown to her. It was probable that, had things followed their normal course, she would never have learned it, and for my part I should have seen no cause for regret in that, for there is no more repulsive word in the language. There mere sound of it sets one's teeth on edge as when one has put too large a spoonful of ice in one's mouth. But coming from Albertine, pretty as she was, not even "mousme" could strike me as unpleasing. On the contrary, I felt it to be a revelation, if not of an external initiation, at any rate of an internal evolution. Unfortunately it was now time for me to bid her good-bye if I wished her to reach home in time for her dinner, and myself to be out of bed and dressed in time for my own. It was Francoise who was preparing it; she did not like it to be delayed, and must already have found it an infringement of one of the articles of her code that Albertine, in the absence of my parents, should be paying ma so prolonged a visit, and one which was going to make everything late. but before "mouseme" all these arguments fell to the ground and I hasted to say:
"You know, I'm not in the least ticklish. You could go on tickling me for a whole hour and I wouldn't feel it."
"Really?"
"I assure you."
She understood, doubtless, that this was the awkward expression of a desire on my part, for, like a person who offers to give you an introduction for which you have not ventured to ask, though what you have said has shown him that it would be of great service to you:
"Would you like me to try?" she inquired with womanly meekness.
"Just as you like, but you would be more comfortable if you lay down properly on the bed."
"Like that?"
"No, further in."
"You're sure I'm not too heavy?"
As she uttered these words the door opened and Francoise walked in carrying a lamp. Albertine just had time to scramble back on to her chair. . . ."
Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way, pp. 370-371
An odd, almost childish scene, but what that is steeped in the gender and social rules of the age. It reads like the attempt of a sophomore boy to get a girl to "touch it" rather than the actions of a sophisticated Frenchman. Although, that comment speaks to my own sense of a French cultural/social identity, by which I mean that I naturally assume that the French are having a lot of sex all the time and thus wouldn't be so utterly clumsy. Having said that, maybe the very clumsiness of the scene gives us an insight in how Marcel actually feels about Albertine. Proust writes, "Not only did I no longer feel any love for her, but I no longer had to consider, as I might have at Balbec, the risk of shattering in her an affection for myself, since it no longer existed," implying that not only does he not love her, but she clearly does not love him anymore either. Consequently, he assures us, "I felt no serious scruples." Marcel is certainly portraying himself as an experienced lover, and as everyone knows one of the greatest advantages of growing older is getting past the stage where you are involved in the pantomime where you're "tricking" the other person into having sex with you. Both of you know exactly why you showed up, but by engaging in this shared performance piece that allows you both, especially her, plausible deniability. When you're older you're comfortable enough to say to her, "meet me in the back stairwell at 9:30 and where this (some scandalous bit of naughty clothing)" and she's also older and comfortable enough to respond, "no, idiot, I'll meet you in the back stairwell at 10:30 and you wear it." Now, Marcel by this time is supposed to be experienced and is in the process of trying to set up an assignation with an experienced society lady/courtesan, which I'm assuming will not include a challenge that he can't be tickled. So, is he playing this game to "protect" her innocence if he claims to not love her anymore - or is he protecting the purity of the innocence of his memory of their love? It could also be something as simple as the fact that he's still in love with her, and thus the rules of exchange are different than with he's truly just meeting for sex.
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