Mme Proust and the Kosher Kitchen Read Online Free Page B

can see he will not be a military man or, for that matter, a doctor like his father, but there will be no shortage of careers open to him once he completes his studies. There is the question of willpower; he has always lacked his father’s and his brother’s stamina, but his intelligence will find a suitable place for itself, of that I have no doubt. His great sensitivity should be of use in diplomacy at least, if not in law. And as long as he can count on his health, he will work hard, I am sure of it.
    Well, there, the cake is eaten, all twelve pieces gone. The year flew by, just as I told him it would, and he is home again. I have let him sleep late on his first morning home, but it is now almost ten and I have finished my correspondence. I will go and see if he is stirring.
P ARIS . M ONDAY , N OVEMBER 17, 1890.
    Marcel went over and saw Jacques Bizet yesterday afternoon and came home very excited. He says Mme Straus seems ready to admit him into her salon, so he has well and truly grown up. I know that she and Jacques’s stepfather have not always considered Marcel suitable company for the boy, but they seem to have changed their opinion, and are now very welcoming. (Such nonsense it all was, Marcel can be extravagant in his emotions, but the idea that he was actually a bad influence on Jacques was too ridiculous. All those two ever do is discuss literature. At any rate, Marcel has never taken any offence, and has always held Mme Straus in the highest regard.)
    Finally began my reading of Pierre Loti’s book last night. His description of his mother, drawn on his earliest memories, is deeply touching.
P ARIS . T UESDAY , N OVEMBER 18, 1890.
    Papa and Uncle Louis are to dine with us this evening. I thought lamb would be good for a change. Marcel will find his grandfather much changed, I fear. How differently people react to death. I never doubted that Uncle Louis loved his wife, but he has always been a joyful widower, liberated from domestic cares, happy to play with his coquettes. (Georges would be just the same, I imagine.) Papa, on the other hand, seems so shrunken since Maman’s death, and I find it difficult to reach him in his grief.
    Marcel wants to attend Mme Arman de Caillavet’s salon this Sunday (or whatever it is she now calls herself.That family adds names at a rate one can hardly keep up with—
de
this,
de
that.) He had visited once or twice before his military service, and has made friends with both her son Gaston and his friend, the Poquet girl. He says Mme Arman de C. will be delighted to have him back. He greatly hopes for further conversation with her most regular guest (and, they say, her lover), Anatole France. I said I would ask his father whether he may go.
P ARIS . W EDNESDAY , N OVEMBER , 19, 1890.
    Much discussion about Marcel’s career prospects at dinner and Adrien told him he may visit Mme de Caillavet’s on Sunday, if on Monday he goes down to the Sorbonne to register for law. His father also wants him to give more thought to the political science program at the Ecole Libre, saying that is the best preparation should he chose diplomacy. Marcel still says he would prefer a literary career, but will follow his father’s wishes. And really, it is only sensible, although I cannot quite imagine Marcel as a lawyer and the separations that diplomacy would entail quite frighten me. At least, his health continues strong, even if I had to issue a gentle reminder yesterday about the number of pâtisseries it is wise to consume in one afternoon. His presence almost consoles me for his grandmother’s absence.
P ARIS . T HURSDAY , N OVEMBER , 20, 1890.
    My joy over Marcel’s apparent good health was premature. A horrible attack yesterday evening—one of his worstkind with that awful wheezing and gulping that makes you think he is going to expire at that very moment.
    It happened after dinner. His father and Dick had been in high spirits during the meal. It was their usual banter, but