My Years With Proust - Day 380

Having relinquished for my benefit that remote hour which she spent without me, among her own people, Albertine was giving it to me; I might make what use of it I chose.  I finally made bold to tell her what had been reported to me about her way of life, and said that notwithstanding the profound disgust I felt for women tainted with that vice, I had not given it a thought until I had been told the name of her accomplice, and that she could readily understand, loving Andree as I did, the pain that this had caused me.  It would have been more astute perhaps to say that other women had also been mentioned but that they were of no interest to me. But the sudden and terrible revelation that Cottard had made to me had struck home, had lacerated me, just as it was, complete in itself without any accretions.  And just as, before that moment, it would never had occurred to me that Albertine was enamoured of Andree, or at any rate could find pleasure in caressing her, if Cottard had not drawn my attention to their posture as they waltzed together, so I had been incapable from that idea to the idea, so different for me, that Albertine might have, with women other than Andree, relations which could not even be excused by affection.

Marcel Proust, Cities of the Plain, pp. 861-862

Marcel continues his argument with Albertine in regards to the rumors of his sexuality, and one is left to wonder if he is jealous of her or of Andree or simply of the fact that any woman, anywhere, would choose another woman over him.  Marcel confesses, "I finally made bold to tell her what had been reported to me about her way of life, and said that notwithstanding the profound disgust I felt for women tainted with that vice, I had not given it a thought until I had been told the name of her accomplice, and that she could readily understand, loving Andree as I did, the pain that this had caused me,"  As we've discussed before, how much of this is just vanity, taking the opportunity to slip into a God-like status that somehow justifies criticizing someone else's life, but more appropriately justifies our own inflated sense of self.