Because of the solidarity that binds together the different parts of a general impression, parts that our memory keeps in a balanced whole, of which we are not permitted to subtract or to decline any fraction, I should have liked to be able to pass the rest of the day with one of those women, over a cup of tea, in a little house with dark-painted walls (as Mme. Swann's were still in the year after that in which the first part of this story ends) against which would glow the orange flame, the red combustion, the pink and white flickering of her chrysanthemums in the twilight of a November evening, in moments similar to those in which (as we shall see) I had not managed to discover the pleasures for which I longed. But now, albeit they had led to nothing, those moments struck me as having been charming enough in themselves. I sought to find them again as I remembered them. Alas!
Oroitzapen baten osagai ezberdinek elkarren artean ohi duten solidaritatearengatik, gure oroimenak osagaiok orekaturik atxikitzen dituenez, ezer kentzea eta ezer arbuiatzea zilegi ez zaigun komunztadura batean, nik orduan zera nahiko nukeen, eguna emakume haietariko baten etxean bukatu ahal izatea, te-kikara baten aurrean, kolore ilunez margoturiko paretadun etxe batean, garai hartantxe (kontakizun honen lehen partea amaitzen denetik hurrengo urtean) oraindik Swann anderearena zena bezalakoxe gela batean, non izarniatuko ziratekeen, azaroko arrastirian, su laranjatuak, eta erredura gorria, eta krisantemoen sugar arrosa-zuriak, une haien antzekoak biziberrituz alegia, une haiek (geroago ikusiko denez) zeinetan ez bainintzen gauza izan desiratzen nituèn plazerak bizitzeko. Izan ere, orain, inolako atarramenturik ez bazekarkidaten ere, une haiek, berez, beren hartantxe, aski xarmagarri izanak zirela iruditzen zitzaidan.