The Duc de Guermantes, while congratulating himself on the “good wind” that had blown him into the arms of his nephew, was still so surprised at the reception⁠—natural as it was⁠—that had been given him by my mother, that he declared later on that she was as disagreeable as my father was civil, that she had “absent fits” during which she seemed literally not to hear a word you said to her, and that in his opinion she had no self-possession and perhaps even was not quite “all there.” At the same time he had been quite prepared (according to what I was told) to put this state of mind down, in part at any rate, to the circumstances, and declared that my mother had seemed to him greatly “affected” by the sad event. But he had still stored up in his limbs all the residue of bows and reverences which he had been prevented from using up, and had so little idea of the real nature of Mamma’s sorrow that he asked me, the day before the funeral, if I was not doing anything to distract her.