Everything that concerned them was on my part the object of so constant a preoccupation that the days on which, as on this day, M. Swann (whom I had seen so often, long ago, without his having aroused my curiosity, when he was still on good terms with my parents) came for Gilberte to the Champs-Elysées, once the pulsations to which my heart had been excited by the appearance of his grey hat and hooded cape had subsided, the sight of him still impressed me as might that of an historic personage, upon whom one had just been studying a series of books, and the smallest details of whose life one learned with enthusiasm.
Haiei buruzko xehetasun guztiek hainbeste eta hain hisiatuki kezkatzen ninduten non, egun hartan bezala, Swann jauna (behiala, nire gurasoekin harremanak zituenean, hain maiz baina nire jakin-mina batere kantitu gabe ikusia nuena) Elisear Zelaietara Gilberteren bila etortzen zenean, bere kapelu grisaren eta bere erromes-soingainekoaren agerpenak nigan sorrarazitako bihotz-taupadak baretu ondoren, haren itxurak oraindik halako zirrara eragiten baitzidan, nolakoa eragingo baitzidakeen berari buruz hainbat obra irakurri berriak garen eta beraren berezitasunik ñimiñoenek ere guztiz grinarazten gaituzten pertsonaia historiko batek.