I was beginning to judge her from the petty-minded standpoint of men who those that scorn them the most when considering them impartially are quite capable of playing the same role from time to time in the vulgar scenes of life. If then Françoise, as if she were some poet, being filled with confused ideas about grief and memory, excused herself for not knowing how to respond to our theories and said: "I don't know how to espress myself", without going so far as to bring it to her attention that it should be pronounced with an x, I did at least triumph over this admission with a brutal irony worthy of Dr. Percepied. And if she added: "in any case it's his parenthesis for Monsieur, he always shows proper respect for his parenthesis" I shrugged my shoulders and said to myself how considerate it was of me to debate with an illiterate woman who comes out with such slips of the tongue.
My walks along the Méséglise way that autumn were all the more agreeable as I took them after long hours of reading that brought me great joy and left me nothing else to be desired other than to stretch my legs. Great the fatigue from having been reading since morning in the drawing-room, scant relief from my shoulders, I went out.
Slightly different version of the published text, taken from a separated manuscript paperolle.
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