I am keenly aware that this decision will annoy you. You would find it more convenient to prevaricate. And I am not unaware that you have never liked being placed in a position where you must say yes or no. But you have to realize too that I cannot allow you a way out of this impasse without risk of being tricked myself. And you must have foreseen that I should not allow that. It is now up to you to decide. I can leave the choice to you, but I cannot remain in this state of uncertainty.
I am warning you, however, that you will not deceive me with your arguments, good or bad, nor will you seduce me with a few flattering remarks with which you might try to embellish your refusal. It is finally time to put our cards on the table. I am by all means prepared to set you an example, and I am happy to declare that I prefer peace and friendship. But if one or the other has to be broken, I believe I have the right and the means to do so.
I might add that the slightest obstacle you put in the way will be taken by me as an outright declaration of war. As you see, the answer I ask for does not demand any long or elegant phrases. One word will suffice.
Paris, 4 December 17**
The Marquise de Merteuil’s reply, written at the bottom of the same letter:
Very well, then. War!
LETTER 154
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde
You will learn more from the bulletins than from me, my dear friend, about the worrying condition of our friend. Totally occupied as I am with looking after her, I only take time out from that to write to you insofar as other things are happening apart from her illness. Here is something that I most certainly was not expecting. It is a letter I received from Monsieur de Valmont, who has been pleased to choose me as his confidante, and even as mediator between himself and Madame de Tourvel, for whom he also included a letter with mine. I sent that one back, with my reply to his letter to me. I am sending a copy of his letter on to you, and I believe you will share my opinion that I could not, nor should, do anything he asks me. Even had I wished to, our unfortunate friend would not have been in any state to listen. She is in a continual delirium. But what do you think of this despair on the part of Monsieur de Valmont? First, are we to believe it, or does he just wish to deceive everybody till the bitter end?* If for once he is sincere, he can truly say that he has brought his unhappiness upon himself. I believe he will not be very pleased with my reply. But I admit that everything I have to do with this sorry affair makes me turn more and more against its author.
Farewell, my dear friend. I return to my melancholy tasks, which become sadder still, given the small hope I have of seeing a successful outcome to them. You know how I honour you.
Paris, 5 December 17**
LETTER 155
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Chevalier Danceny
I called on you twice, my dear Chevalier, but since you have given up your role of lover for that of adventurer you have, quite understandably, become impossible to track down. However, your valet assures me that you should be back this evening and that he had orders to expect you. But I, who am informed of your plans, understand you might only return briefly to change your costume before immediately resuming your victorious career. Well, good for you, I cannot but applaud you. But perhaps this evening you may be tempted to change direction. You only know half the story at the moment. You must be told the rest and then decide. So take the time to read my letter, not in order to distract you from your pleasures since, on the contrary, its only purpose is to give you a choice of what to do.
Had I had your entire confidence, if I had known from you the secrets that you left me to guess, I should have been informed in time and should not have held up your progress today with my inept enthusiasm. But let us start from where we are. Whatever course you take, the one you reject will always be for the good of someone else.
You have a rendez-vous tonight, have you not, with a charming woman whom you adore? For at your age what woman does one not adore, at least for the first week! The scene of the meeting must add to your pleasures still more. A delightful petite maison that has been taken for you alone, which will make the pleasures of the flesh even more pleasurable with the added charms of freedom and mystery. Everything is arranged; you are expected: you are longing to be there! We both know that, although you have told me nothing about it. Now this is what you do not know and what I must impart to you.
Since my return to Paris I have been busy working out ways for you to see Mademoiselle de Volanges, as promised. And the last time we spoke on the subject, I had reason to judge from what you said, I might say from your delight, that by so doing I was working for your happiness. I could not succeed all on my own in this tricky task. But, having prepared the means, I left the rest to the zeal of your young mistress. She found, in her love for you, resources which had been wanting to my experience. Well, unfortunately for you, she has succeeded. For the last two days, she told me this evening, all obstacles have been removed, and your happiness only depends henceforth upon you.
For the last two days as well she has been hoping to tell you the news herself, and in spite of her mother’s absence you would have been received at the house. But you did not even come to visit! And to tell you the whole story, our little friend, whether reasonably or unreasonably, seemed to me rather put out by this lack of attention on your part. At all events, she found a way of having me come to see her and made me promise to give you as soon as I possibly could the letter that I here enclose. To judge from the hurry she was in to do this, I should wager it is about a rendez-vous for this evening. However that may be, I have promised on my honour as a friend that you will receive this billet-doux in the course of the day and I cannot, nor will I, break my word.
So now, young man, how will you proceed? Between flirtation and love, between pleasure and happiness, what will be your choice? If I were speaking to the Danceny of three months ago, or only of a week ago, I should be quite certain of his feelings, and sure of what he would do. But the Danceny of today, the womanizer, the adventurer, who, as is often the case, has turned into a bit of a rascal – will he prefer a shy young girl, who has nothing to recommend her but her beauty, her innocence and her love, to the pleasures of a woman who is completely experienced?
As for myself, my dear friend, I should say that even with your new principles, which I freely admit are not unlike my own, circumstances would decide me in favour of the young girl. For one thing, she is another one to add to your list; and then there is the novelty; and, furthermore, the fear of losing the fruit of your labours if you neglect to gather it; for after all, from this point of view it would really be an opportunity lost and such opportunities do not always recur, especially with a first passion. Often in these cases one petulant mood, jealous suspicion, or even less, suffices to thwart the finest conquest. Drowning virtue may clutch at any straw; and once it has been saved, it is on its guard, and not so easily taken by surprise.
On the other hand, from a different perspective, what are you risking? Not even a rupture. A little quarrel at most, and the pleasure of a reconciliation which you would be able to buy with a few attentions. What course other than that of indulgence remains to a woman who has already given herself? What would she gain by being strict? Loss of pleasure and no increase in glory.
If, as I presume, you decide in favour of love, which seems to me also the reasonable decision, I believe it would be prudent not to apologize for the missed rendez-vous. Simply make her wait. If you risk giving your reasons, she may be tempted to check if they are true. Women are curious and obstinate; they can find anything out. I have just provided an example of this. But hope left to itself, as it is sustained by vanity, will not be lost until long after the time for making enquiries. So tomorrow you will have to choose which insurmountable obstacle has detained you; you will have been ill, dead if necessary, or there will be some other equally desperate reason for your absence, and all will be mended.
For the rest, whatever you decide, I beg you simply to let me know. B
eing personally disinterested, I shall always think you have done well. Farewell, my dear fellow.
What I will add is that I miss Madame de Tourvel. I am in despair at being separated from her. I should gladly give half my life to have the happiness of devoting the other half to her. Ah, believe me, only love can make one happy.
Paris, 5 December 17**
LETTER 156
Cécile Volanges to the Chevalier Danceny
(Attached to the preceding letter)
How is it, my dear, that I do not see you any more when I never cease to desire it? Do you not want to as much as I do? Oh, I am truly unhappy now! More unhappy than when we were completely separated. The pain I was suffering because of other people now comes from you, and that makes me feel much worse.
For the last few days, as you are only too well aware, Mamma has hardly ever been at home. I was hoping that you would take advantage of this period of freedom but the thought of me has not so much as crossed your mind. How unhappy I am! You so often told me that I was the one who did not love you enough, but I knew that was not at all true and this proves it. If you had come to visit me, you would actually have seen me. For I am not like you; I think only of ways we may see each other again. It would serve you right if I told you nothing of all I have done in that respect – and it has given me so much trouble. But I love you too much, and I am so anxious to see you that I cannot help telling you so. And then I shall see if you really love me!
I have contrived to have the porter on our side, and he has promised me that every time you come he will let you in; he will act as though he had not seen you. We can definitely trust him, for he is a very honest man. All we shall have to do is make sure no one sees you in the house, and that is very easy if you just come in the evening when there is nothing else at all to be afraid of. Since Mamma has been going out every day, you see, she goes to bed every night at eleven. So we shall have plenty of time.
The porter told me when you want to come in like that, all you have to do is knock at his window instead of the door and he will let you in straight away. Then you will soon find the back staircase, and as there will not be any light I will leave my bedroom door half open, and that will provide a little. You should be careful not to make a noise, especially when you go near my Mamma’s door. As for my chambermaid’s door, you do not need to take that into account since she has promised she will not wake up. She is such a good girl! And when you leave, you must do exactly the same. Now let us see if you will come.
Oh God, why does my heart beat so hard when I write to you? Is there some misfortune about to befall me, or is it the hope of seeing you that troubles me so? What I feel is that I have never loved you so much, and never have I wanted so much to tell you so. So come, my love, my dear love, so that I can tell you a hundred times over that I love you, adore you, that I shall never love anyone but you.
I have found a means of letting Monsieur de Valmont know that I had something to say to him. Since he is such a good friend he will certainly come tomorrow, and I shall ask him to give you my letter without delay. So I shall expect you tomorrow night, and you will come without fail if you do not wish to make your little Cécile so dreadfully unhappy.
Farewell, my dear. I send you all my love.
Paris, 4 December 17**, in the evening
LETTER 157
The Chevalier Danceny to the Vicomte de Valmont
Do not doubt, my dear Vicomte, my true feelings or my actions. How could I resist any wish my Cécile expressed? Oh, she is definitely the one, the only one, that I love and shall love for ever! Her innocence, her tenderness have charms for me from which I have been weak enough to allow myself to be distracted, but that nothing can erase. Engaged in another affair, almost, as you might say, without knowing what I was doing, the memory of Cécile has often come to trouble me during the very sweetest of my pleasures. And perhaps my heart has never rendered truer homage to her than in the very moment when I was unfaithful. However, my friend, let us be considerate of her finer feelings and hide my wrongdoing from her, not in order to be duplicitous, but in order not to hurt her. Cécile’s happiness is my most ardent wish. Never shall I forgive myself for anything that might cause her to shed a tear.
I feel I deserve your jocular remark about what you call my new principles. But it is not those which guide me at the moment, believe me. And from tomorrow I am determined to prove it. I will go and make my confession to the woman who has caused me to stray and who has participated in it. I shall say to her: ‘Look into my heart. It has the tenderest friendship for you. Friendship allied to desire so resembles love!…We have both been deceived. But though susceptible to making mistakes, I am not capable of being insincere.’ I know my friend. She is indulgent as well as honest. She will do more than pardon me; she will approve of what I have done. She has so often blamed herself for betraying friendship. Often her delicacy held back her love. She is wiser than I, she will fortify in my soul the salutary fears that I rashly sought to quell in hers. I shall owe it to her to be better, and to you to be happier. Oh my friends, share my gratitude. The thought that I owe my happiness to you increases its value.
Farewell, my dear Vicomte. My extreme joy does not prevent me from thinking of your sorrows and sharing in them. I wish I could help. Is Madame de Tourvel still inexorable, then? People say that she is extremely ill. My word, how I pity you! I hope her health and her kindness to you will improve and cause you eternal happiness! These things I wish as your friend. I dare hope they will be granted by love.
I should like to talk longer, but time is short and Cécile is perhaps already waiting for me.
Paris, 5 December 17**
LETTER 158
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil
(On waking)
So now, Marquise, how are you after the pleasures of last night? A little tired, perhaps? You must admit that Danceny is charming! What a prodigy that boy is! You did not expect it of him, did you? Come now, let us be fair. A rival like that deserves that I should be sacrificed for him. Seriously, though, he has so many qualities! And, above all, what love, what constancy, what tenderness! Oh, if ever he loves you as he loves his Cécile you will not have to fear any rivals. He proved that to you last night. Perhaps if another woman were to set her cap at him she could take him away from you briefly. A young man can never resist provocative behaviour like that, but one single word from the beloved is enough, as you see, to dispel the illusion. So all you have to do is become that beloved, and you will be perfectly happy.
Surely you will not delude yourself. You have too much insight for there to be any fear of that. However, the friendship that unites us, as sincere on my part as it is acknowledged on yours, made me desire last night’s proof, for your sake; you owed it to my zeal. It was a success. But do not thank me. It is not worth it. Nothing could have been easier.
In fact, what did it cost me? Some small sacrifice, a little skill. I agreed to share with the young man the favours of his mistress. Yet in the end he had as much right as me. And I cared so little! The letter the girl wrote to him of course I dictated to her, but it was only to gain time, because we had better things to do. The letter I attached was nothing at all, almost nothing. A few friendly reflections to guide the new lover in his choice, though really they were superfluous. We must tell the truth; he did not for an instant waver.
And so, in his candour, he is due to go to you today and tell you the whole tale; and surely that account will give you great pleasure! He will say: ‘Look in my heart,’ so he tells me, and you will see that that makes up for everything. I hope that when you find what he wishes you to find there you will also see that such young lovers have their dangers. Also that it is better to have me for a friend than for an enemy. Farewell, Marquise, until we meet again.
Paris, 6 December 17**
LETTER 159
The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont
(Note)
I do not care for it when
people combine bad jokes with bad behaviour. That is not my style or to my taste. When I have cause to complain of someone I do not indulge in mockery. I do better, I take my revenge. However pleased you are with yourself at the moment, do not forget it would not be the first time you have congratulated yourself too soon, in the mere hope of a triumph which escaped you at the very moment of your congratulating yourself upon it.
Adieu.
Paris, 6 December 17**
LETTER 160
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde
I am writing to you from the bedroom of our unfortunate friend, whose condition is still more or less the same. This afternoon there is to be a consultation between four doctors. Unfortunately, as you know, that is more frequently a proof of danger than a means of help. But apparently her mind returned somewhat last night. The maid informed me this morning that towards midnight her mistress sent for her. She wished to be alone with her and dictated quite a long letter. Julie added that while she was busy sealing the envelope Madame de Tourvel became delirious again, so that the girl did not know whom to address it to. At first, I was surprised she did not know who it was from the letter itself. However, when she told me she was afraid of making a mistake but that her mistress had told her to be sure and have it sent straight away, I took it upon myself to open the packet.
Dangerous Liaisons Page 41