Swann's Way

temper, always friendly, always everything that's nice. It's not often
you see an animal so well-behaved at that age. Mme. Octave, it's high
time I left you; I can't afford to stay here amusing myself; look, it's
nearly ten o'clock and my fire not lighted yet, and I've still to dress
the asparagus."

"What, Françoise, more asparagus! It's a regular disease of asparagus
you have got this year: you will make our Parisians sick of it."

"No, no, Madame Octave, they like it well enough. They'll be coming back
from church soon as hungry as hunters, and they won't eat it out of the
back of their spoons, you'll see."

"Church! why, they must be there now; you'd better not lose any time. Go
and look after your luncheon."

While my aunt gossiped on in this way with Françoise I would have
accompanied my parents to mass. How I loved it: how clearly I can see it
still, our church at Combray! The old porch by which we went in, black,
and full of holes as a cullender, was worn out of shape and deeply
furrowed at the sides (as also was the holy water stoup to which it led
us) just as if the gentle grazing touch of the cloaks of peasant-women
going into the church, and of their fingers dipping into the water, had