CP 02929/en
Madeleine Lemaire to Marcel Proust Tuesday 6 April [1915]
Tuesday 6 April[1]
My dear Marcel
I have discovered you all over again in the long letter[2] that you took the trouble to write me, which touched and amused me. I hope writing it did not cause you too much fatigue and as for me I assure you it was delightful to read. I felt like I was chatting to you. So I am replying to what you tell me. I assure you that our melancholies have much in common, since they likely have the same causes, and that our general disenchantment comes from the cataclysm that we are witnessing. Do not say that your moral state is incurable, because you are young, and you can hope to witness a rebirth, whereas I will not be given the time; I can only end my days in sadness. In spite of that I try to function still, I call upon my energies in the belief that I still have a little left, I work in an effort to convince myself that I am interested in it, but mostly so as not to think about anything else
What a shame that I can’t talk to you about all this and how sad that we can’t chat together like we used to, and share our two melancholies, which would perhaps give us greater strength to bear them.
Thank you for the offer of your physician[3], I will take him up when I am next ill, because my current illness is drawing to an end I hope. I’m feeling better and it hasn’t come too soon, after four weeks, and if good weather comes I shall be fully cured and can finally make my way back to Réveillon; because I am very unhappy when I think of Suzette all on her own there.
Moving on to the third point in your letter about laxative tablets. Thank you for that too!!! I have no need of them.
But how you think of everything!
I don’t know if Céleste’s husband has a motorcar that would enable him to make a long trip[4]. But I’m still hoping that they are going to reinstate a train for the Marne because people have been clamouring for it from the Company. Sorry for talking about myself so much and about things that are of little interest to you, I am merely replying to you.
Let’s talk about you now. I am very sorry to hear you are in such low spirits. I had found you to be so well last year when I met you at Reynaldo’s conference[5]. You had regained your old appearance. And yet the year has been a good one for you from the literary point of view, you have had great success, which you richly deserved. You must have been pleased about that, in spite of everything
When will I be able to see you again? I have to come back in May. I assure you it would be a great pleasure for me to see you again and chat[6].
With much love
Madeleine Lemaire
Forgive my rambling letter. I am worn out.