n'est pas

Google Language Translator On Proust:

A long time, I lay down early. Sometimes, hardly my extinct candle, my eyes were closed so quickly that I did not have time to say to me: "I fall asleep" And, half an hour after, the thought which it was time to seek the sleep woke up me; I wanted to pose volume that I still believed to have in the hands and to blow my light; I had not ceased while sleeping to make reflexions on what I had just read, but these reflexions had taken a a little particular turn; it seemed to to me that I was myself that about which the work spoke: a church, a quartet, competition of François Ier and Charles Quint. This belief survived during a few seconds in my alarm clock, it did not shock my reason but weighed like scales on my eyes and prevented them from realizing that the candlestick was not lit any more. Then it started to become to me inintelligible, as after the métempsycose the thoughts of a former existence; the subject of the book was detached from me, I were free of me to apply to it or not; at once I covered the sight and I was well astonished to find around me a darkness, soft and resting for my eyes, but perhaps more still for my spirit, with which it appeared as a thing without cause, incomprehensible, like a really obscure thing. I wondered what time it could be; I heard the whistle of the trains which, more or less moved away, like the song of a bird in a forest, raising the distances, described me the extent of the deserted countryside where the traveller hastens towards the nearest station; and the small way which it follows will be engraved in its memory by the excitation which it owes with new places, with unaccustomed acts, the recent talk and the good-byes under the foreign lamp which still follow it in the silence of the night, with the nearest softness of the return. I tenderly supported my cheeks against the beautiful cheeks of the pillow which, full and fresh, are like the cheeks of our childhood. I rubbed a match to look at my watch. Soon midnight. It is the moment when the patient, who was obliged to leave on a journey and had to sleep in an unknown hotel, awaked by a crisis, is delighted by seeing under the door a line by day. What a happiness, it is already the morning! In one moment the servants will be picked up, it will be able to sound, one will come to carry help to him. The to be relieved hope gives him courage to suffer. Precisely it believed to hear steps; the steps approach, then move away.