Swann's Way

child ill."

"Oh dear, dear; the poor little creature!" would come with a sigh from
Françoise, who could not hear of any calamity befalling a person unknown
to her, even in some distant part of the world, without beginning to
lament. Or:

"Françoise, for whom did they toll the passing-bell just now? Oh dear,
of course, it would be for Mme. Rousseau. And to think that I had
forgotten that she passed away the other night. Indeed, it is time the
Lord called me home too; I don't know what has become of my head since I
lost my poor Octave. But I am wasting your time, my good girl."

"Indeed no, Mme. Octave, my time is not so precious; whoever made our
time didn't sell it to us. I am just going to see that my fire hasn't
gone out."

In this way Françoise and my aunt made a critical valuation between
them, in the course of these morning sessions, of the earliest
happenings of the day. But sometimes these happenings assumed so
mysterious or so alarming an air that my aunt felt she could not wait
until it was time for Françoise to come upstairs, and then a formidable
and quadruple peal would resound through the house.

"But, Mme. Octave, it is not time for your pepsin," Françoise would