THE DREYFUS CASEto kiss Albertine-who does indeed ring the bell-in her bed in
the Grand Hotel at Balbec. Perhaps the incident actually occurred
with a guest, whether male or female, of Proust's at Evian; and
possibly the guest was Maugny, who stayed the night at the
Splendide Hotel in Dr Proust's old room on 12 September. But
probably the fact that Proust does not mention the pain in his
wrist until the 19th rules out Maugny, unless he came a second
time a week later. There can be no doubt, at least, that Proust's
aching wrist is the same as Jean Santeuil's, and that the episode
in Jean Santeuil was written at E viano
One of the dilemmas of society on the lake was the necessity
of seeing Coppet, with its relics of Mme de Stael, and the danger
of meeting its chatelaine. Mme d'Haussonville (,Pauline', as
Proust irreverently called her) was particularly formidable at this
time of crisis in the Affair. When the Prince de Polignac's
American wife (m!e Winnaretta Singer) saw her on the 9th she
had, it is true, shown gracious pleasure on hearing Proust was at
Evian: "Do tell me where he's staying, we're such good friends!";
but the next moment she remarked cuttingly to the Princesse:
"I can quite understand you foreigners thinking as you do about
the Affair!" The only solution was to go on a Thursday, when
the house was thrown open to tourists, and Pauline would
certainly be lunching out. On the 21st Constantin de Brancovan
and Hermant set out from Amphion in one of the new motor-
cars, and were joined by Proust, who preferred to travel by the
little train for fear of draughts, at Geneva. Coppet was swarming
with sightseers and Mme d'Haussonville, sure enough, was
lunching in Geneva. They left a card on her, after seeing
absolutely everything, and again on Mme de Rothschild at
Pregny. When Proust once more insisted on taking the train at
Geneva, Constantin was extremely wounding. "Draughts,
indeed!". he exclaimed, "it's all your imagination! Why, your
father always tells everybody there's nothing whatever the matter
with you! He says your asthma's sheer hypochondria!" But
Constantin, Proust later discovered, however insensitive he
might be to the horrors of asthma, was right about motor-cars.
When one felt only just well enough to get out of bed, he found,
they would whisk one away to a longed-for place or person; if
one felt too ill to get up at all, the friend would be brought to
one's bedside; and they were driven by young and charming