Such a change of perspective in looking at other people, more striking already in friendship than in merely social relations, is all the more striking still in love, where desire so enlarges the scale, so magnifies the proportions of the slightest signs of coldness, that it had required far less than Saint-Loup had shown at first sight for me to believe myself disdained at first by Albertine, to imagine her friends as fabulously inhuman creatures, and to ascribe Elstir's judgment, when he said to me of the little band with exactly the same sentiment as Mme de Villeparisis speaking of Saint-Loup: They're good girls," simply to the indulgence people have for beauty and a certain elegance. Yet was this not the verdict I would automatically have expressed when I heard Albertine say: "In any case, whether he's devoted or not, I sincerely hope I shall never see him again, since he's made us quarrel. We must never quarrel again. It isn't nice." Since she had seemed to desire Saint-Loup, I felt more or less cured for the time being of the idea that she cared for women, assuming that the two things were irreconcilable. And, looking at Albertine's mackintosh, in which she seemed to have become another person, the tireless vagrant of rainy days, and which, close-fitting, malleable and grey, seemed at that moment not so much intended to protect her clothes from the rain as to have been soaked by it and to be clinging to her body as though to take the imprint of her form for a sculptor, I tore off that tunic which jealously enwrapped a long-ed for breast and, drawing Albertine towards me:
"But won't you, indolent traveller, rest your head
And dream your dreams upon my shoulder?"
I said, taking her head in my hands, and showing her the wide meadows, flooded and silent, which extended in the gathering dusk to an horizon closed by the parallel chains of distant blue hills.
Marcel Proust, Cities of the Plain, pp. 894
Initially I couldn't track down this passage, which Proust quotes to Albertine: "But won't you, indolent traveller, rest your head/ And dream your dreams upon my shoulder?" However, my most excellent friend Steve Wehmeyer, being a gentleman and a scholar, found it. It's from stanza 313 of La Maison du Berger by Alfred de Vigny. Impressive detective work, leading my friend Debbie Preston to opine, "Dude, your friends are a bunch of nerds." True enough, but they are most excellent friends nevertheless. It's the beauty of our Core Division, actively promoting brainy non-practical liberal arts education - in opposition to a practical business-friendly curriculum - for ten years now. We rule.
By the end of this passage the text almost becomes otherworldly. Proust follows his description of Albertine in the rain, "looking at Albertine's mackintosh, in which she seemed to have become another person, the tireless vagrant of rainy days," with a far earthier line, "which, close-fitting, malleable and grey, seemed at that moment not so much intended to protect her clothes from the rain as to have been soaked by it and to be clinging to her body as thought to take the imprint of her form for a sculptor, I tore off that tunic which jealously enwrapped a long-ed for breast . . ." While much of Cities of the Plain has dealt with sex and desire, I would propose that this line is the most sexually charged one of the entire novel (at least so far). Having said all that, by the end we've moved on to the almost ethereal: "I said, taking her head in my hands, and showing her the wide meadows, flooded and silent, which extended in the gathering dusk to an horizon closed by the parallel chains of distant blue hills."
Albertine's obvious mixed feeling towards Robert provided, at least temporarily, solace for Proust since the thought that she might desire Saint-Loup meant that she didn't desire women, although even Proust is not sure that it is that cut and dried: "Since she had seemed to desire Saint-Loup, I felt more or less cured for the time being of the idea that she cared for women, assuming that the two things were irreconcilable." The last few words are the key, "assuming that the two things were irreconcilable." Now we, and especially the generation of my students, much more naturally accept sexuality and gender and desire existing on a scale as compared to a little dichotomy. Proust seems to understand that it's not that simple as well.
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