My Years With Proust - Day 587

  I rung for Francoise to ask her to buy me a guide-book and a time-table, as I had done as a boy when already I wanted to prepare in advance a journey to Venice, the fulfillment of a desire as violent as that which I felt at this moment.  I forgot that, in the meantime, there was a desire which I had attained without any satisfaction - the desire for Balbec - and that Venice, being also a visible phenomenon, was probably no more able than Balbedc to fulfill an ineffable dream, that of the Gothic age made actual by a springtime sea, that now teased my mind from moment to moment with an enchanted, caressing, elusive, mysterious, confused image. Francoise, having heard my ring, came into the room: "I was very worried," she said to me, "that Monsieur should be so late in ringing this morning.  I didn't know what I ought to do. This morning at eight o'clock Mademoiselle Albertine asked me for her boxes.  I dared not refuse her, and I was afraid that Monsieur might scold me if I came and waked him. I t was no use lecturing her, telling her to wait an hour because I expected all the time that Monsieur would ring; she wouldn't have it, she left this letter with me for Monsieur, and at nine o'clock off she went." Then - so ignorant can we be of what is inside us, since I was convinced of my indifference to Albertine - my breath was cut short, I gripped my heart in my hands, which were suddenly moistened by a perspiration I had not experienced since the revelation she had made to me on the little train with regard to Mlle Vinteuil's friend, and I was incapable of saying anything else but: "Ah! very good, Francoise, you were of course quite right not to wake me.  Leave me now for a moment, I shall ring for you presently."

Marcel Proust, The Captive, pp. 421-422

And we've reached the end of the fifth volume of Remembrance of Things Past, The Captive.  I've made it a habit to always include the first and last paragraphs of every volume (at least I think I have).  In this case it is more than simply a completist act because the opening passage from The Fugitive will not only bring the news we've been fearing, but it also plays upon these themes.  Proust recounts: "I forgot that, in the meantime, there was a desire which I had attained without any satisfaction - the desire for Balbec - and that Venice, being also a visible phenomenon, was probably no more able than Balbedc to fulfill an ineffable dream, that of the Gothic age made actual by a springtime sea, that now teased my mind from moment to moment with an enchanted, caressing, elusive, mysterious, confused image."  In this case I think Marcel reflects on the Gothic age, not simply because of the locale, but more appropriately because it was an age of faith, but also an age associated, almost certainly unfairly, with an age of ignorance - in this case Marcel's ignorance of Albertine's intentions.