You may be a trifle annoyed at what I’m asking you to do but isn’t it a very small return for all the trouble I’ve been taking over your affairs? Didn’t I restore you to your judge’s wife when, through your own stupidity, you’d been forced to leave her? And then wasn’t it me who placed into your hands ways and means to settle your score with that mischievous old bigot Madame de Volanges? You’re always moaning about the time you waste looking round for exciting things to do. Now you have a couple under your very nose. Love or hatred, take your pick, they’re both sleeping under the same roof and you can live a double life, fondling with one hand and stabbing in the back with the other …
And it’s me again you have to thank for your adventure with the Vicomtesse. I’m rather pleased about that but as you say, it mustn’t get hushed up because though I can well understand how the situation made you prefer secrecy to stirring up scandal, you must admit that woman didn’t deserve such gentlemanly treatment.*
Moreover, I have a grudge against her. Chevalier de Belleroche finds her prettier than I consider proper and I shall be very glad for many reasons of an excuse for breaking off relations with her. And what is more convenient than to have to say to oneself: ‘We can’t have anything more to do with that woman, can we?’
Goodbye, Vicomte. Do remember that, in your situation, time is of the essence! And mine will be spent seeing how I can make Prévan a happy man.
75
Cécile Volanges to Sophie Carnay From the Château de——, 14 September 17—
Note: In this letter Cécile gives an extremely detailed account of all the events concerning her which the reader has already seen in letters 49 and later and which there seemed no point in repeating. At the end of her letter she writes about the Vicomte de Valmont in the following terms:
I assure you he’s an extraordinary man. Mummy has hardly a good word to say for him but Danceny thinks highly of him and I think it’s he who’s right. I’ve never seen a cleverer man. He managed to slip me Danceny’s letter with everybody there and no one saw a thing. It’s true I was very frightened because I hadn’t been warned at all but now I’ll be expecting him. I already know exactly how he wants me to let him have my reply. It’s very easy to understand what he means because his eyes tell you precisely what he wants. I don’t know how he does it; in the letter I mentioned he told me he wouldn’t seem to be paying me any attention in front of Mummy and actually you’d never guess that he’s thinking about me at all yet every time I look out for him, I’m sure to catch his eye straight away.
There’s a good friend of Mummy’s staying here whom I didn’t know, who doesn’t seem to like Monsieur de Valmont very much, though he’s very attentive to her. I’m afraid he’ll soon get bored with our life down here and go back to Paris which would be a very great pity. He must be very kind-hearted to come here specially as a favour to his friend and to me! I’d love to show him how grateful I am but I don’t know how to arrange to speak to him and even if I got the chance I’d be so bashful that perhaps I mightn’t know what to say.
The only person I can speak to freely about my love is Madame de Merteuil. And even though I tell you everything, if I was actually talking to you I expect I’d feel embarrassed. And in spite of myself, I’ve often felt a bit afraid of saying everything I thought even to Danceny. I blame myself a lot for that now and I’d give anything in the world to tell him for once, just once, how much I love him. Monsieur de Valmont has promised him that if I do as he tells me, he’s going to arrange a chance for us to meet. I’ll certainly do everything he wants but I still can’t see how it’s going to be possible.
Goodbye, Sophie dear, I’ve run out of space.*
76
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de ——, 17 September 17—
Either you’re teasing me in a way I can’t understand or else when you wrote you were suffering from a particularly dangerous kind of hallucination. If I didn’t know you as well as I do, fair lady, I’d really be very scared and that doesn’t happen easily, no matter what you may say.
I’ve read and reread your epistle and still can’t make head nor tail of it since there’s no way in which I can take it at its face value. So what were you trying to tell me?
Was it merely that there was no point in taking a lot of trouble against such an insignificant foe? In that case, my dear, you might be mistaken: Prévan really is a charmer, more so than you think. In particular he has that most useful gift of involving large numbers of people in his love-life by his clever way of talking about it in public, in everyone’s hearing, using every conversational gambit he can think of. There aren’t many women who can avoid falling into that trap and responding, because since all women pride themselves on being sophisticated, none of them wants to miss the opportunity of showing it. And as you know full well, a woman who agrees to talk about love quickly ends up feeling it or at least behaving as if she did. This technique, which he’s brought to a fine art, has the further advantage of leading women on to provide evidence of their downfall out of their own mouths; and let me say I’ve seen it happen.
I only knew about this particular case secondhand, because I’ve never been a close friend of Prévan’s. Anyway there were six of us; thinking she was being very subtle and, except for those in the know, apparently talking in quite general terms, the Comtesse de ——revealed in the greatest detail how she’d given herself to Prévan and everything that had taken place between them. She told her story with such aplomb that she wasn’t even perturbed by the burst of uncontrollable laughter which came from all six of us simultaneously; and I’ll never forget that when one of us tried to apologize by pretending to cast doubt on the veracity of what she was saying or rather seemed to be saying, she solemnly declared that none of us were as well informed as she was and, quite undaunted, asked Prévan outright if she’d got a single detail wrong.
So it seems to me that this man is a danger to everybody. But for you, my dear Marquise, wasn’t it enough that he was pretty, definitely very pretty, as you yourself put it? Or that he would make one of those attacks on you that you occasionally enjoy rewarding because it’s so well made? Or that you thought it fun to give yourself to him for some reason or other? Or… ‘I How can I tell? How can I possibly guess the thousand and one whims governing a woman’s mind and which are your only feminine attribute? Now you’ve been warned of the danger, I’ve no doubt you can easily avoid it but I had to warn you all the same. So I come back to my main question: what on earth were you trying to say?
If you were just poking fun at Prévan, quite apart from the fact that you were very long-winded, what was the point of addressing it to me? He must be made to look publicly ridiculous and I’d like to repeat my request for you to do just that.
Ah, I think I’ve solved the riddle! Your letter wasn’t forecasting what you’ll actually do but what he’ll think you’re ready to do once he’s lured into your trap. Well, I fully approve of that plan but you must tread very warily. You know as well as I do that as far as public opinion’s concerned, there’s absolutely no difference between having a man and accepting his attentions, unless the man is an idiot and Prévan is far from that. If he can achieve just a semblance of victory, he’ll brag about it and there’ll be nothing more to be said. Idiots will believe him, mischief-makers will pretend to believe him: what defence can you put up then? Listen, Marquise: I’m afraid. Not that I doubt your skills: but it’s good swimmers who get drowned.
I don’t think I’m more stupid than the next man; I’ve discovered hundreds, no, a thousand and one ways of ruining a woman’s reputation but try as I can I’ve never been able to think up a single way for her to avoid it. I have even felt, dear lady, that for all your consummate technique, on scores of occasions you’ve succeeded more by luck than judgement.
But perhaps I’m trying to find a reason for something that hasn’t one. I’m amazed at the way I’ve been spending the last hour taking something seriously
which is surely a joke on your part. You’re trying to pull my leg! All right, but hurry up and let’s talk about something else. Something else? I’m wrong, it’s always the same topic, always about women, to be either had or ruined—and often both.
As you very rightly observe, I’ve enough material on hand here for exercising my talents in both fields—but not equally easily. I foresee that vengeance will move faster than love. The Volanges girl is as good as bedded, take my word for it; it only needs some opportunity and that I can undertake to provide. But it’s not the same with Madame de Tourvel: that woman daunts me, I can’t make her out. I’ve got a hundred proofs of her love—and a thousand of her resistance to it. To tell the truth, I’m afraid she’s going to slip through my fingers.
The first effects of my return made me hope for better things. You will remember that I wanted to judge for myself and in order to observe her initial reaction, I hadn’t announced my arrival in advance and had timed it to take place during a meal. And indeed I arrived out of the blue, like the deus ex machina of an opera bringing down the curtain.
I made enough fuss coming in to attract everybody’s notice and was able to see at a glance my old aunt’s joy, Madame de Volanges’s vexation, and her daughter’s sheepish delight. My beauty was sitting with her back to the door. She was busy cutting something and didn’t even turn her head; but when I spoke to Madame de Rosemonde, at the first word my sensitive little puritan couldn’t hold back a cry which I thought contained rather more love than surprise or fright. By now I had moved far enough into the room to see her face: her spiritual turmoil, her conflicting thoughts and feelings were depicted on it in a dozen different ways. I sat down at the table beside her; she hadn’t the least idea what she was saying or doing. She tried to go on eating but there was no way she could manage to do so; in the end, after less than a quarter of an hour, her delight or her embarrassment reached such a point that she was reduced to having to ask to leave the table on the pretext of needing a breath of fresh air. She hurried out into the park. Madame de Volanges offered to go with her but our prude with the tender heart declined, no doubt only too glad of the chance of being alone and surrendering unreservedly to her sweet emotions!
I finished my meal as fast as I could. Then hardly had dessert been served than that diabolical old trout Volanges, obviously eager to queer my pitch, got up and went off to find the charming invalid; but I had anticipated her scheme and thwarted it by pretending to take her action as a general signal and got up at the same time, leading her daughter and the parish priest to follow suit. Madame de Rosemonde was thus left sitting alone with old Commandant de T ——and they both decided to rise too. So we all trooped out to join my beauty and discovered her in the shrubbery near the château. As she wanted to be alone rather than take a walk, she was as happy to come back in with us as to have our company out of doors.
As soon as I was sure that Madame de Volanges wouldn’t get her chance to speak with her alone, I set about carrying out your instructions to look after the interests of your ward. Immediately after coffee I went up to my room and then into the other rooms as well to reconnoitre the terrain. I made my arrangements for organizing the little girl’s correspondence and having accomplished my first good deed of the day, I wrote her a note informing her and asking her to trust me. With this note I enclosed Danceny’s letter. I then went down to the drawingroom and discovered my lovely one reclining delightfully relaxed on a chaise-longue.
This sight excited me and brought a glint into my eyes which I realized would give them an urgent, loving look. I therefore took up a position to ensure that this would have its full effect. The first result was to make this divine puritan modestly lower her own large eyes. For a while I gazed at her angelic face before letting my eyes wander lingeringly over her whole body, assessing its shapes and curves, regrettably still half concealed under her flimsy dress. After moving from top to toe, I moved up from toe to top… Fair lady, her eyes were softly watching me, but only to drop again in a flash. Anxious to encourage them to return, I looked away and we embarked on that tacit convention, the first article in the treaty of coy love, which satisfies a mutual desire to look at each other by allowing glances to alternate until they eventually meet.
Convinced that my lovely lady was completely engrossed in this new pleasure, I looked around to make sure that we were both safe from observation: the others were engaged in fairly animated conversation, paying very little attention to us. I then set out to try and make her eyes give me a plainer message. To that end, I first intercepted some of her glances but so discreetly as not to alarm her modesty; to put the bashful young woman more at her ease, I pretended to be similarly embarrassed. Gradually our eyes grew used to meeting and lingered until in the end we both sat gazing into each other’s eyes and I saw in hers that soft yearning look which is the auspicious signal of love and desire. But only for a second: quickly recovering, she rather shamefacedly altered her posture and looked away.
Not wanting to leave her in any doubt that I had been observing her various movements, I sprang to my feet and asked in a concerned voice if she was all right.* Immediately everyone gathered round her. I allowed them to go in front and as the Volanges girl was working at her tapestry near a window and couldn’t leave her frame so quickly, I seized the opportunity to hand over Danceny’s letter.
I was some distance away and had to toss the envelope on to her lap. She actually didn’t know what to do with it. You’d have laughed to see her look of surprise and embarrassment. But it was certainly no laughing matter for me because of the risk that her awkwardness would give us away. However, a glance from me and a pointed gesture finally made her understand that she was to put the envelope into her pocket.
The rest of the day was uneventful. What has happened since may well lead to results which will make you happier, at least as far as your ward is concerned. But it’s better to spend our time carrying out our plans than talking about them. Anyway, this is my eighth page and I’ve had enough. So goodbye.
I hardly need to tell you that the girl has replied to Danceny.* I’ve also had a reply from my own lovely lady to whom I wrote the day after I arrived. I’m sending you the two letters. You can please yourself whether you read them or not. This everlasting harping on the same theme which I’m already beginning to find rather tedious must be very dull for anyone not directly involved.
Goodbye again. I still love you very much but I do beg of you when you next talk about Prévan to make sure I can understand you.
77
The Vicomte de Valmont to Madame de Tourvel 15 September 17—
What reason can you have, Madame, for continuing to avoid me in so cruel and calculated a manner? How is it possible for you to treat my affectionate attentions in a way that would be hardly justifiable towards a man against whom you harboured the most bitter grudge? How strange! I came back here with a heart full of love and when a lucky chance offered me a seat beside you, you chose to pretend to feel unwell, thereby alarming your friends, rather than continue to sit beside me! How often later that day did you not turn your eyes away and refuse to grant me one single look? And when for a brief second your eyes seemed rather less stern, it was so short that I felt that rather than wanting me to enjoy it, you merely intended to make me realize all that I was missing by being deprived of it.
Dare I suggest that this is no way to treat a man who loves you and surely no way for a friend to act? Yet you well know whether I am such a man and it seems to me that I had the right to assume that you were willing to be the latter. What have I done to forfeit this friendship which you must have considered I deserved since you were good enough to offer me it earlier? Have I harmed my cause by showing too much trust? Are you punishing me for being so frank? But wasn’t it to you as my friend that I confided the secret hidden in my heart? Wasn’t it to my friend, and only to her, that I felt obliged to refuse conditions which, had I accepted them, would have made it too easy for me to disregard them, per
haps take unfair advantage of them, for my own benefit? And are you trying to make me believe, by your harsh and unfair treatment, that all I had to do to soften your heart was to lie to you?
I don’t repent in the least having behaved as I did; I owed it both to you and to myself. But by what unhappy chance does every praiseworthy action of mine seem to lead only to some fresh misfortune?
It was after my conduct had prompted the only praise you had hitherto seen fit to give me that I found myself for the first time in the unfortunate position of incurring your displeasure. It was after I had proved my utter submission to your wishes by forgoing, purely in deference to your scruples, the pleasure of seeing you, that you tried to break off all correspondence with me, robbing me of even that poor compensation for the sacrifice you had demanded of me and snatching out of my hands even the love which alone gave you the right to make that demand. So in fact it is after I had spoken out so frankly in defiance of my best interests as a lover that you are keeping me at a distance as a dissolute seducer whose dishonourable intentions you have succeeded in uncovering!
Won’t you ever tire of being so unfair? At least tell me what fresh wrongs of mine have led you to be so stern and do not hesitate to dictate to me your orders for my conduct. I undertake to obey them. Is it too unreasonable to ask what they are?
78
Madame de Tourvel to the Vicomte de Valmont 16 September 17—
You seem to be surprised, Monsieur, at my behaviour and even almost to go so far as to ask for an explanation, as if you have the right to criticize it. I must confess that I should have thought that it was rather I who was more entitled than yourself to be surprised and aggrieved; but after reading your rejection of my request, I have decided to put the matter out of my mind and ignore any further comments or reproaches. However, since you ask me for clarification and as, thank Heaven, I can feel no inner reason not to provide it, I am prepared yet once again to explain myself to you.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 21