During the final decade of Proust's life, when his health declined and he became progressively more withdrawn, even while working with continuing intensity on his writing, she became his nurse and "the writer’s most trusted conduit to the world beyond his reclusive, cork-lined bedroom".
In the early 1970s she was persuaded by the Laffont publishing company that she should disclose what she could concerning the private life of Marcel Proust, who was still an iconic literary figure among the intellectual classes.
[4][5] Albaret's recollections of her employer were more widely communicated through the 1982 release by Percy Adlon of the film Céleste which was based on Belmont's book.
[6] Augustine Célestine Gineste was born into a "peasant family" at Auxillac, a small village (subsequently subsumed for administrative purposes into La Canourgue) in the hills inland from Montpellier in central southern France.
In 1914, through the intervention of her husband with his illustrious regular client, she was "asked to fill in for a few days",[2] and permitted to undertake errands for Marcel Proust, delivering letters and books.
A key point came when Albaret was invited to involve herself in the great man's "breakfast" ritual, which took place at or soon after four o'clock each afternoon, as Proust rang his bell two times in order to be served with two large bowls of strong milky coffee and two croissants.
Albaret proved hugely loyal, quick witted and adaptable enough to accommodate her employer's idiosyncratic habits, becoming largely nocturnal in order to be on hand when Proust was awake and available to clean his room if he went out.
A meal might consist of a little of the white meat from a chicken or a filet of sole, washed down, on rare occasions, with a little flute of Champagne or of Bordeaux, which would suffice.
Albaret held her own key, however, in order that she might be able to access the hotel kitchens at any point during the night, should her employer require a chilled beer.
[4] During the war, with many of his younger friends and associates away at the front, and cafe society for those who remained very much diminished, Proust became increasingly reclusive: that trend intensified as his health deteriorated during the postwar period.
Proust had always said that it would be Albaret's hands that would close his eyes when he died ("Ce sont vos belles petites mains qui me fermeront les yeux.").
At Robert's request she cut a lock of his older brother's hair which made an appearance in 1965 at a "Proust exhibition" held in central Paris at the French National Library.
As his posthumous reputation soared Albaret made a point of shunning publicity and avoiding any mention of her former employer's personal life that might have been construed as disloyal.
[14] Someone else who showed an interest in Albaret's recollections of Proust was the collector-philanthropist (and passionate bibliophile) Jacques Guérin,[15] described by one reviewer as "not just a collector but a rescuer of all things Proustian".
"After observing that others, less scrupulous than she, had talked and written about Proust things that were not always true, she decided to fulfill this one last duty to the one who had always said to her 'you are the one who will close my eyes [when I die]' and who had always addressed her as 'My dear Céleste'".
[1] A few years before she died, in tribute to a remarkable woman who participated intimately in a core element of France's literary history, and who personally contributed in practical ways to the creation and preservation of historical texts, Albaret was created a Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters.