Up till now I have never been accustomed to arousing any but honourable feelings or hearing anything that might make me blush; as a result I have enjoyed a sense of security which I like to think I deserve and so I’m unable either to conceal or restrain my emotions. The surprise and embarrassment caused by your actions, a vague fear prompted by a situation into which I should never have been placed and perhaps the horrible suspicion of being mistaken for one of those women whom you despise and treated with the same lack of respect, all this combined to give rise to my tears and may have made me commiserate with myself out loud. But the words ‘Poor me!’, which you seem to consider so strong, would surely have been quite inadequate if they and my tears had been caused by something else and, instead of expressing my disapproval of your feelings which could only offend me, had expressed my fear of sharing them.
No, Monsieur de Valmont, I have no such fear; if I had I should quickly take refuge in some faraway exile to rue the sad day that I ever met you. Perhaps, in spite of being certain of not loving you, of never loving you, I should even have been wiser to follow my friends’ advice and never let you come near me.
I believed—and this is my sole mistake—I believed that you would respect the feelings of a decent woman who asked for nothing better than to find the same decency in you and to treat you fairly, who spoke up in your defence, whereas you were secretly insulting her with your criminal intentions. You do not know me, Monsieur de Valmont, you do not know what I am like; otherwise you would never have thought you had the right to take advantage of your disgraceful conduct. Merely because you dared speak to me in terms I should never have listened to, you should not have considered yourself entitled to write me a letter that I should never have read. And you ask me to guide your steps, dictate what you may say. Very well then: leave me alone and forget me: that’s the proper advice for me to give and for you to follow. If you do so, you will indeed have some claim to be forgiven and it would rest entirely with you even to earn my gratitude. And yet… No, I refuse to ask anything from anyone who has shown me such disrespect; I shall not offer any token of trust to someone who has undermined my peace of mind. You are forcing me to be afraid of you and even to hate you. I didn’t want that; I wanted to regard you merely as the nephew of my most respected friend; I was a friendly voice challenging that of public opinion which saw you as a reprobate. You have destroyed all that and I can foresee that you will be unwilling to make any amends.
So I shall confine myself, Monsieur de Valmont, to informing you that your sentiments are offensive, that it was outrageous to confess them and that above all, far from persuading me to share them, you will force me never to see you again unless you undertake to preserve absolute silence on the subject, as I am entitled to expect and even, it seems to me, to demand. I enclose with this letter the one which you wrote me.* I hope that you will similarly let me have this one back, for I should be greatly concerned if any trace ever remained of an incident which should never have occurred.
I have the honour, etc.
27
Cécile Volanges to Madame de Merteuil 23 August 17—
My goodness, you really are being so kind to me, Madame de Merteuil! And how clever of you to guess that I’d find it easier to write to you rather than speak! You see, it’s because what I have to tell you is very hard! But you’re my friend, aren’t you, yes, really and truly a friend! I’m going to try not to be afraid. And I do need you and your advice so badly. At the moment I feel so miserable, I think everyone can read my thoughts; and particularly when he’s there, I blush every time anyone looks at me. When you saw me crying yesterday, it was because I wanted to speak to you and then something seemed to stop me and when you asked me what was wrong, I just couldn’t help crying. It just wasn’t possible to say anything. And but for you, Mama would have noticed and what would have happened to me then? Yet that’s what my life is like at the moment, especially the last four days.
That was the day, yes, I’ve got to tell you, that was the day when the Chevalier Danceny wrote to me. Oh, I promise you that when I found the letter I didn’t know what it was at all but I mustn’t tell a fib, I can’t pretend I wasn’t very pleased when I read it. You see, I’d sooner be miserable for the rest of my life than not have had that letter from him. But of course I realized that I oughtn’t to tell him that and I promise you, really and truly, that I even told him I was annoyed by it but he said he couldn’t stop himself and I believe him, because I’d made up my mind not to write to him and I still couldn’t help doing it. Oh, I only wrote to him once and even that was partly to tell him not to write to me again but in spite of that he still keeps on writing and as I’m not replying, anyone can see he’s sad and that makes me even sadder so I don’t know what to do or what’s going to happen and I feel very sorry for myself.
Please, dear Madame de Merteuil, can you tell me, would it be very wrong of me to reply to him once in a while? Only just until he promises to agree not to write to me himself and to remain as we were at the start, because, as for me, I don’t know what will become of me if things go on like this. You know, as I was reading his last letter, I just couldn’t stop crying and I’m absolutely certain that if I still go on not answering him, it’ll make us both too miserable for words.
I’m going to send you his letter too, or rather a copy of it so you can judge for yourself. You’ll see he’s not asking for anything wrong. All the same, if you think it’s not right then I promise not to do it, but I do believe that like me, you will think there’s nothing wrong in it.
And while I’m on the subject, will you forgive me if I ask one. more question: I’ve been told it’s wrong to love someone but why should that be? The reason I ask is that Monsieur Danceny claims that there’s nothing wrong in it at all and that everybody loves someone and if that’s true I don’t see why I’m to be the only person to stop myself doing it. Or is it only wrong for young ladies? Because I heard Mama herself say that Madame D——loved Monsieur M—–. She wasn’t talking about it as something all that wrong yet I’m sure she’d be cross with me if she even suspected that I felt friendly towards Monsieur Danceny. Mama still treats me like a little girl and doesn’t tell me anything at all. When she took me away from the convent I thought it was to get me married but now that doesn’t seem to be true, not that it troubles me, I assure you. But as you’re such a good friend of hers, perhaps you know what the situation is and if you do, I do so hope you can tell me.
What an awfully long letter but as you gave me permission to write to you, I’ve taken the opportunity of telling you everything, relying on you as a real friend.
Yours very faithfully, etc.
28
The Chevalier Danceny to Cécile Volanges 23 August 17—
So you really still don’t want to reply to my letters, Mademoiselle! Oh, how hard-hearted you are! Every morning my hopes rise and every evening they’re dashed to the ground! You say that we are friends but what sort of friendship is it that isn’t even strong enough to make you realize how miserable I am; that leaves you cold and indifferent while I’m burning with a love which I find impossible to quench; that doesn’t even extend to trust, let alone pity? Your friend is suffering and you won’t lift a finger to help him! He asks you for one little word and you refuse to give it to him! You expect him to be satisfied with such a lukewarm feeling and even that feeling you won’t dare to put into words a second time!
Yesterday you were saying you didn’t want to seem ungrateful yet believe me, trying to offer friendship in exchange for love doesn’t mean that you’re afraid of being ungrateful, merely that you’re anxious not to appear ungrateful. But I don’t dare to come back to a subject which you’re bound to find tiresome if it doesn’t interest you. I shall have to shut up my love inside me at least until I’ve succeeded in overcoming it. I can feel how hard that will be and I realize that I’ll need all my strength. But I shall keep trying in every possible way and the one which I’ll find most heartbreaking wi
ll be to have to tell myself over and over again that you have a heart of stone. I’ll even try seeing less of you and I’m already looking round for an excuse to do that…
But how terrible to have to give up that pleasant habit of calling on you every day, as a friend! At least I shall always be able to treasure that as a sad memory! So my love and devotion will be rewarded by a lifetime of misery and it will be all your making because that’s how you’ve wanted it! And I can feel that I shall never, never recover the happiness that you are taking away from me, for you were the only girl in the world I could love! How happy I should be to swear to live only for you! But your ears are closed, your silence tells me quite plainly that your heart has nothing to say to me and that is the surest proof of your indifference as well as the cruellest way of letting me know. Farewell, Mademoiselle.
I’ve no delusions about getting a reply from you: a lover would have been longing to write, a friend would have been glad to, a kind person would have written out of pity but in your heart there’s no room for pity, friendship, or love.
29
Cécile Volanges to Sophie Carnay 24 August 17—
Didn’t I tell you, Sophie, that in some cases it was right to write? And I blame myself a lot, I promise you, for having followed your advice, which made Chevalier Danceny and me so miserable. The proof that I was right is that Madame de Merteuil, who’s certainly a woman who knows all about that sort of thing, has finally come round to my view. I confessed everything to her. At first she said the same as you but after I’d explained it all to her, she agreed it wasn’t the same thing at all. The only thing she wants is for me to show her all my letters as well as all Chevalier Danceny’s so as to be sure I’m not saying anything I oughtn’t. So now I’ve no more worries. My goodness, what a nice lady Madame de Merteuil is! She’s so kind and she’s such a respectable person, too! So there’s nothing more to be said.
And what a letter I’m going to write to Monsieur Danceny and how pleased he’ll be! He’s going to be even more pleased than he thinks because up till now I’ve only mentioned ‘friendship’ and he always wanted me to say ‘love’. I reckon it’s really the same thing, but anyway I didn’t dare and he wanted so badly for me to say it! I told Madame de Merteuil about it and she said I was right and you should only admit to feeling love when you couldn’t hide it any longer. And I’m quite sure I shan’t be able to hide it much longer; after all, it’s the same thing and he’ll like it much better.
Madame de Merteuil told me as well that she’d lend me some books on the whole subject which would teach me how to behave and also to write better than I do. You see, she tells me about all my faults which is a proof that she’s fond of me. But she’s recommended me not to mention anything about these books to Mummy because it would look like hinting she hasn’t brought me up properly and that might make her cross. Oh, I’m certainly not going to mention them.
All the same, it’s really extraordinary that a woman who’s hardly related to me, or even not at all, is looking after me better than my own mother. Aren’t I a lucky girl to have met her!
She’s also asked Mummy to let her take me to the Opéra the day after tomorrow, in her own box. She’s told me we’ll be all on our own and we can talk all the time without any danger of being overheard. I’ll enjoy that much better than the opera itself. We’ll talk about my marriage too, because she said it’s really true that I’m going to be married; but we didn’t have a chance to say anything more about it. Well now, isn’t that quite amazing too, that Mummy hasn’t said a word about it to me?
Bye-bye, Sophie dear, I’m going to write to Chevalier Danceny now. Oh, I’m so thrilled!
30
Cécile Volanges to the Chevalier Danceny 24 August 17—
I’ve finally decided to write to you, Monsieur, to promise you my friendship, my love, because otherwise you will be unhappy. You say I’m heartless but I assure you that you are mistaken and I hope that I have now removed your doubts. If you were sad because I didn’t write to you, don’t you think that I was sorry too? The reason was that I wouldn’t ever want to do anything wrong, not on any account, and I certainly would not have admitted my love if I had been able to hide it. But I felt so sorry for you. Now I hope you’ll not be sad any longer and that we’re going to be very happy.
I’m very much looking forward to seeing you tonight and I hope you’ll come early; it will never be too soon for me. Mama is having supper at home and I think she’ll be inviting you to stay on for it. I do hope you haven’t another engagement like you had two days ago. I suppose the supper party you were going to must have been a very nice one because you left very early to go to it. But don’t let’s talk about that and now you know I love you, I hope you’ll stay with me as much as you can, because I’m only happy when I’m with you and it would be very nice for me to think that you feel the same.
I’m very sorry that you’re still unhappy at the moment but it’s not my fault. I’ll ask to play my harp as soon as you come so you can get my letter straight away. That’s the best I can do.
Goodbye, Monsieur. With all my heart, I’m so, so fond of you and the more I say it, the happier I feel. I do hope you’ll be, too.
31
The Chevalier Danceny to Cécile Volanges 25 August 17—
Oh yes, there’s no doubt we’re going to be happy! I’m sure to be, because you love me and if your happiness lasts as long as the love you’ve inspired in me, it will never, never end … How wonderful it all is! You love me, you’re not afraid of telling me of your love! The more I say it the happier I feel! And after reading that charming ‘I love you’,* written by your own hand, I heard it from your lovely lips! I saw your charming eyes, made even more wonderful by their expression of love, looking deep into mine. I heard you swear to live always for me and now you shall hear my vow to dedicate my whole life to making you happy! Believe me, you can be sure that’s a vow I shall never break.
What a happy day we spent together yesterday! Oh, why can’t Madame de Merteuil find secrets to tell your mother every day? Why are the delicious memories that fill my mind spoilt by the thought of the obstacles that stand in our way! Why can’t I clasp that pretty hand which wrote I love you and smother it in kisses, to compensate for your refusal to grant me any greater favours?
Tell me, dear Cécile, weren’t you sorry when your Mama came back and we had to start pretending to be indifferent to each other and you couldn’t go on promising to love me, as a consolation for not being able to give me any proof of it? Didn’t you say to yourself: ‘He’d have been happier with a kiss and I’ve deprived him of that pleasure’? Do promise me, dear, dear Cécile, that at our next opportunity you’ll not be so strict. If you do promise, I can bear with all the dreadful frustrations of our situation and at least have the consolation that you’re suffering from them as well.
Goodbye, charming Cécile. It’s time for me to come and see you and I couldn’t possibly say goodbye to you now unless I was on my way to see you. Goodbye, dear Cécile, I love you so much and I’m going to love you more and more, for ever!
32
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Tourvel 24 August 17—
So you are trying to convince me that Monsieur de Valmont is a man of high principles? I must confess that I can’t bring myself to be persuaded. From the single instance you mention I should find it as difficult to consider him an honourable man as I should to think that a man well known for his goodness was vicious merely because he’d once behaved badly. Mankind is never perfeet, in good or in evil. Scoundrels have their good points just as men of honour have their failings. This truth seems all the more important to believe since it leads to the need to be indulgent towards those who are evil as well as those who are good; it stops the latter from becoming arrogant and the former from losing heart. You will no doubt be thinking that at the moment I’m not displaying much of the indulgence which I’ve been preaching but I consider it nothing but a dangerous weakness when it leads us to
treat vicious and good people on an equal footing.
I shan’t presume to scrutinize the motives of Monsieur de Valmont’s actions; I’m prepared to accept that they are as praiseworthy as the actions themselves. But hasn’t he nevertheless spent his life spreading confusion, disgrace, and scandal in many homes? By all means, listen to the voice of that poor unfortunate man whom he helped but don’t close your ears to the cries of a hundred women who have been his victims. Even if he were, as you say, just an example of the danger of certain acquaintances, would that make him less of a dangerous acquaintance himself? You say he could reform his ways? Let’s look ahead and assume that this miracle has taken place. Wouldn’t he still have public opinion against him and isn’t that enough to guide your conduct? Absolution belongs to God alone at the moment of repentance; He can read inside people’s hearts, men can only judge thoughts from their effects on action and no man who has lost the esteem of his fellow men has any right to complain of the inevitable distrust which makes it so hard to redeem that loss. And above all, dear young friend, never forget that to forfeit public esteem it is sometimes sufficient merely to appear to treat it lightly; and don’t accuse such an attitude of being unduly strict and unfair because, quite apart from the fact that we are justified in assuming that no one is willing to forfeit such a precious thing if they think they have a claim to it, the person who is no longer held back by this powerful deterrent is in fact all the more likely to do wrong. Yet that is how people would regard you if you seem to have been too closely acquainted with him.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 11