Is it possible that the late M. Latour was right when he defined the quiet spa resort as a nest of spies? Is it possible that Gilberte’s father occupies himself with throwing pianos from the balconies? Is it possible that I am the victim of an international conspiracy? But what would the countries present at the Hague Conference win with my poisoning? In any case, they would not have much to lose either. Maybe they need another scapegoat. But they already have Dreyfus. Maybe one is not enough for them. Lately, the world is a little short of scapegoats, and I am a prototypical one. But wait a moment. Dreyfuss is a Jew. And Karlsbad is a resort frequented by Jews from all over Europe. Swann is also a Jew. And, come to think of it, my mother is a Jew too, what makes me a Jew myself! Which reminds me that I have not celebrated the Jewish Easter for many years. I don’t even remember when it was the last time I entered a synagogue. Yahve must not remember me either! Tomorrow I must go without fail to a synagogue to remind Him … But where do all these reasonings lead me? I’m still as baffled as at the beginning. No, now I’m more baffled, a lot more baffled than when I started reasoning. I just have to look in the mirror to find out for sure. There it is! The very face of bafflement! Unless it’s one of those distorting mirrors… like those in amusement parks. However, what would be the point of installing a funhouse mirror in a luxury hotel? No, the face in the mirror is my real face. The face of bafflement.