【書摘】在斯萬家那邊—斯萬的愛情 (Swann in love) 13
Mais tandis que, une heure après son réveil, il donnait des indications au coiffeur pour que sa brosse ne se dérangeât pas en wagon, il repensa à son rêve ; il revit, comme il les avait sentis tout près de lui, le teint pâle d’Odette, les joues trop maigres, les traits tirés, les yeux battus, tout ce que – au cours des tendresses successives qui avaient fait de son durable amour pour Odette un long oubli de l’image première qu’il avait reçue d’elle – il avait cessé de remarquer depuis les premiers temps de leur liaison, dans lesquels sans doute, pendant qu’il dormait, sa mémoire en avait été chercher la sensation exacte. Et avec cette muflerie intermittente qui reparaissait chez lui dès qu’il n’était plus malheureux et qui baissait du même coup le niveau de sa moralité, il s’écria en lui-même : « Dire que j’ai gâché des années de ma vie, que j’ai voulu mourir, que j’ai eu mon plus grand amour, pour une femme qui ne me plaisait pas, qui n’était pas mon genre ! »
(p.375, Éditions Gallimard, 1987)

醒來一小時後，當他指點理髮師怎樣使他的頭髮在火車上不致蓬亂時，他又想到他那個夢，又看到奧黛特蒼白的臉色、瘦削的面頰，疲憊的臉龐、低垂的眼皮，彷彿全都就在他的眼前；奧黛特的萬般柔情早已把斯萬對她的執著的愛化為對她的首次印象的長期遺忘——自從他們最初相愛以來這些日子，在他剛才睡著時，他在記憶中都曾竭力搜尋它們的確切感覺，從那時以來他已不再注意到的東西也彷彿就在他的眼前。自從他不再感到不幸，道德修養也隨之有所降低以來，粗野的話也不時湧上他的心頭，他心裡不禁咆哮起來：「我浪擲了好幾年光陰，甚至恨不得去死，這都是為了我把最偉大的愛情給了一個我並不喜歡，也跟我並不一路的女人！」
(p. 411~412 追憶似水年華 I 在斯萬家那邊 聯經版 1992)

但一個小時後，就在他指點理髮師怎麼修剪平頂頭，好讓頭髮在旅途中不致弄亂的當口，他又想起了方才的夢，彷彿奧黛特就在身旁，只見她面容瘦削，臉顯得很長，眼圈黑黑的，所有這些——綿綿不斷的柔情蜜意，把他對奧黛特持久的愛變成了一種長期的遺忘，忘卻的正是他初見她時的第一印象——自從他倆相好以來，他就不再去注意了，而在剛才的夢中，他的回憶想必又在那段初戀中尋覓著真切的感受。當他不復感到不幸時，粗鄙的念頭不時湧上心頭，道德水準也一下子降低到了這份上，他在心理大聲喊道：“誰能想得到嗎，我浪費了那麼多年，甚至恨不能去死，卻把我一生中最真摯的愛情給了一個我不喜歡的、不合我口味的女人！"
(p.421 追尋逝去的時光 I 去斯萬家那邊 上海譯文版 周克希譯 2004)

But while, an hour after his awakening, he was giving instructions to the barber, so that his stiffly brushed hair should not become disarranged on the journey, he thought once again of his dream; he saw once again, as he had felt them close beside him, Odette’s pallid complexion, her too thin cheeks, her drawn features, her tired eyes, all the things which—in the course of those successive bursts of affection which had made of his enduring love for Odette a long oblivion of the first impression that he had formed of her—he had ceased to observe after the first few days of their intimacy, days to which, doubtless, while he slept, his memory had returned to seek the exact sensation of those things. And with that old, intermittent fatuity, which reappeared in him now that he was no longer unhappy, and lowered, at the same time, the average level of his morality, he cried out in his heart: “To think that I have wasted years of my life, that I have longed for death, that the greatest love that I have ever known has been for a woman who did not please me, who was not in my style!”
(Translated by C. K. Scott Moncrieff )

But while, an hour after he had woken, he was giving instructions to the hairdresser so that his brush cut would not become disordered on the train, he thought about his dream again, and saw once again, as he had felt them close beside him, Odette’s pale complexion, her too thin cheeks, her drawn features, her tired eyes, everything which—in the course of the successive expression of tenderness which had made of his abiding love for Odette a long oblivion of the first image he had formed of her—he had ceased to notice since the earliest days of their acquaintance, days to which no doubt, while he slept, his memory had returned to search for their exact sensation. And with the intermittent coarseness that reappeared in him as soon as he was no longer unhappy and the level of his morality dropped accordingly, he exclaimed to himself: “To think that I wasted years of my life, that I wanted to die, that I felt my deepest love, for a woman who did not appeal to me, who was not my type!”
(Translated by Lydia Davis)