Anyone who, like ourselves, had seen M. Vinteuil, about this time, avoiding people whom he knew, and turning away as soon as he caught sight of them, changed in a few months into an old man, engulfed in a sea of sorrows, incapable of any effort not directly aimed at promoting his daughter's happiness, spending whole days beside his wife's grave, could hardly have failed to realise that he was gradually dying of a broken heart, could hardly have supposed that he paid no attention to the rumours which were going about.
Garai hartan guk bezala Vinteuil jauna ikusi zutenentzat, ordea, ezagutzen zituèn pertsonei itzuri egiten, haiek ikusitakoan bestaldera jira egiten, hilabete gutxiren buruan zeharo zaharkitzen, bere burua atsekabean itotzen, zuzeneko helburutzat bere alabaren zoriona ez zukeèn edozein ahaleginetarako erabat ezgauza bihurtzen, egunak eta egunak emaztearen hilobiaren aurrean egonean ematen, halakoentzat, noski, ia ezinezkoa zen gizon hura atsekabez hiltzen ari zela ez ulertzea, eta nonahi barreiaturik zebiltzàn esamesen ez-jakitun zela suposatzea.