My body, the side upon which I was lying, loyally preserving from the past an impression which my mind should never have forgotten, brought back before my eyes the glimmering ﬂame of the night light in its bowl of Bohemian glass, shaped like an urn and hung by chains from the ceiling, and the chimney piece of Sienna marble in my bedroom at Combray, in my great aunt's house, in those far distant days which, at the moment of waking, seemed present without being clearly defined.'