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Updated: June 16, 2025
You shall have it in time for the Danicheff revival. I shall be lunching with the Prefect of Police to-morrow, as it happens, at the Elysee." "What's that? The Elysee?" Dr. Cottard roared in a voice of thunder. "Yes, at M. Grevy's," replied Swann, feeling a little awkward at the effect which his announcement had produced.
One evening, when Swann had consented to dine with the Verdurins, and had mentioned during dinner that he had to attend, next day, the annual banquet of an old comrades' association, Odette had at once exclaimed across the table, in front of everyone, in front of Forcheville, who was now one of the 'faithful, in front of the painter, in front of Cottard: "Yes, I know, you have your banquet to-morrow; I sha'n't see you, then, till I get home; don't be too late."
But it must have been a bad way, for M. Swann was not invited; Dr. Cottard, who, having been summoned to attend a serious case in the country, had not seen the Verdurins for some days, and had been prevented from appearing at Chatou, said, on the evening after this dinner, as he sat down to table at their house: "Why, aren't we going to see M. Swann this evening?
Cottard, typical, in this respect, of the public, were incapable of finding, either in Vinteuil's sonata or in Biche's portraits, what constituted harmony, for them, in music or beauty in painting.
Verdurin, "Do people still call in Potain?" "Ah! Mme. Verdurin," Cottard simpered, "you forget that you are speaking of one of my colleagues I should say, one of my masters." The painter had heard, somewhere, that Vinteuil was threatened with the loss of his reason. And he insisted that signs of this could be detected in certain passages in the sonata.
"Pere Cottard!" he cried cheerily, "how goes the wound to-day?" He walked over to the bed and drew the curtains. An old man was lying among the tumbled sheets. "Better?" smiled Trent. "Better," repeated the man wearily; and, after a pause, "Have you any news, Monsieur Jack?" "I haven't been out to-day.
Verdurin replied, while Dr. Cottard gazed at her with open-mouthed admiration, and yearned to be able to follow her as she skipped lightly from one stepping-stone to another of her stock of ready-made phrases. Both he, however, and Mme.
As the critical faculty, on the universal application of which he prided himself, was, in reality, completely lacking, that refinement of good breeding which consists in assuring some one whom you are obliging in any way, without expecting to be believed, that it is really yourself that is obliged to him, was wasted on Cottard, who took everything that he heard in its literal sense.
Cottard felt bound to say good night as soon as they rose from table, so as to go back to some patient who was seriously ill; "I don't know," Mme. Verdurin would say, "I'm sure it will do him far more good if you don't go disturbing him again this evening; he will have a good night without you; to-morrow morning you can go round early and you will find him cured."
"Are you often taken like that?" the painter asked Cottard, with mock-seriousness. As a rule, once an explanation had been given, Cottard would say: "Ah, good, good; that's all right, then," after which he would shew not the least trace of emotion.
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