On days on which Mme. Swann had not left the house, one found her in a wrapper of crêpe-de-Chine, white as the first snows of winter, or, it might be, in one of those long pleated garments of mousseline-de-soie, which seemed nothing more than a shower of white or rosy petals, and would be regarded to-day as hardly suitable for winter, though quite wrongly.