I think I’ve noticed that the key to the door of your room which opens on to the corridor is always lying on your Mama’s mantelshelf. You realize that if we had that key everything would be simple; however, failing that, I can provide you with a copy of it which will serve the same purpose. To do this I shall need to have the key itself for a couple of hours. It must be easy for you to find an opportunity to get hold of it without anyone noticing that it’s missing: here is a key of mine similar enough for the change not to be detected unless someone tries it in the door, which no one will think of doing. You’ll only need to make sure to attach a faded blue ribbon to it similar to the one attached to yours.
You must try to get that key by breakfast-time tomorrow or the day after because it will be simpler for you to give it to me then and it can be put back by evening, when your Mama might be more likely to keep her eye on it. I shall be able to let you have it back at dinner, if we can work out a plan together.
You know that when we leave the drawing-room to go into the dining-room, Madame de Rosemonde always comes last. I’ll give her my hand. You’ll only need to leave your tapestry work slowly or else drop something so as to bring up the rear. That will enable you to take the key from me. I shall be careful to be holding it behind my back. Immediately after taking it, you must be sure to catch up with my old aunt and be particularly affectionate towards her. If you happen to drop the key, don’t lose your head, I’ll pretend I’ve done it. You can rely on me absolutely.
In any case, your mother’s lack of trust and her harsh treatment of you fully justify this little subterfuge. What is more, it is the only way of continuing to receive Danceny’s letters and delivering yours to him. Any other method is far too risky and might completely wreck the hopes of both of you for ever. As your friend, I feel it not only unwise but irresponsible to go on using it.
Once we have got the key, there are still one or two precautions to be taken against the noise made by the door and the lock but they aren’t particularly difficult. Under the wardrobe where I put your paper, you will see some oil and a feather. As you sometimes go to your room alone, you must use the opportunity to oil the lock and the hinges. The main thing is to be careful not to leave any tellta’e stains. You must also wait until night, because if you do it as c’ verly as I know you can, there won’t be any trace next day.
However, if it is noticed, don’t be afraid to say it’s the maintenance man. In that case, you must mention the exact time and even his exact words, for instance that he was doing it to stop the little-used locks from rusting. It’s obvious you wouldn’t have been likely to be put to that inconvenience without asking the reason. It’s the little details that make for plausibility and plausibility makes fibs immaterial because nobody feels the need to check them.
Once you’ve read this letter, please read it again and even think it over, first, because to do something properly you have to know it properly, and secondly, to make sure in your own mind that I haven’t omitted anything; I’m not in the habit of using such tricks for myself and I’m not very experienced; but for my close friendship with Danceny and the sympathy you have yourself aroused in me, I couldn’t have brought myself to do it. I hate anything that has the slightest hint of deceit, I’m like that. But my heart has been so touched by your misfortunes that I’m prepared to make every effort to alleviate them.
You will, of course, realize that once this line of communication has been opened between us, it will be far easier for me to arrange the meeting which Danceny wants with you. But don’t say anything to him about this for the moment. You would only be making him more impatient and the time is not yet quite right to satisfy him. I think you have to calm him down rather than make him disgruntled. I’ll leave it to your own tact. Goodbye, my lovely ward, because I do look on you as my ward and I hope you may feel a little fond of your guardian and, above all, do what he tells you. It’s for your own good. I am making every effort to ensure your happiness and you can be certain that when you’re happy, so shall I be.
85
The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont Paris, 25 September 17—, 7 p.m.
Now you can at last relax and, above all, give me my due. Listen to what I have to tell you and stop mistaking me for all those other females: I’ve just polished off my adventure with Prévan—polished off: I do hope you get my exact meaning. And now you’ll be able to judge which of us has something to brag about. Telling it won’t be quite as much fun as doing it and anyway, it wouldn’t be fair for you, who’ve done nothing more than produce arguments, good or bad, on this whole business, to enjoy it as much as I did, seeing that I’ve been giving it such a lot of my time and attention.
However, if you have some major coup of your own in mind, if you’re contemplating some exploit where he might have been of concern as a potentially dangerous rival, now’s your chance, he’s left the coast clear for you, at least for a while; he may even never recover from the blow I’ve dealt him.
Aren’t you lucky to have me as a friend! I’m your good fairy. There you were pining away far from the beauty who has you in her thrall and with one word from me, abracadabra—you’re back with her. You want to get even with a woman who has done you wrong—I point out the exact spot to strike and hand her over to you on a plate. And finally, you turn to me to remove a formidable competitor from the lists and, hey presto!—I fulfil your desire. Truly, Vicomte, if you don’t spend the rest of your life offering up thanks to me, you’re an ungrateful beast. But let’s come back to my adventure and start from the beginning.
You remember my letter of 15 September? My loud announcement* as I left the Opéra did not fall on deaf ears. Prévan duly turned up and when the Maréchale remarked in her friendly way how flattered she felt at seeing him at one of her gatherings twice in a row, he took great pains to explain how he had called off absolutely hundreds of engagements that Tuesday evening so as to be free. Forewarned is forearmed! However, since I wished to establish more definitely if I really was the object of this flattering enthusiasm, I tried to force this most recent of my admirers to choose between me and his real passion: I stated that I would not be playing cards and, lo and behold, he too found absolutely hundreds of excuses not to play either. My first victory was achieved over lansquenet.*
As my partner in conversation I enlisted the Bishop of——;* I chose him because he has connections with this hero of the hour and I wanted to offer him every chance of approaching me. I was also very glad to provide myself with a respectable witness who could, if need arose, give evidence of my behaviour and speech. This arrangement worked like a charm.
After the usual small talk, Prévan quickly took over the conversation and struck various notes one after the other to see which one I might respond to. Sentiment I firmly rejected, as a sceptic; I put a stop to any banter by looking serious: that was too frivolous a gambit; he had to fall back on a gently friendly tone and it was under this undistinguished banner that we launched out on our joint campaign.
At supper-time, the Bishop didn’t go down so Prévan handed me in and naturally sat down beside me. Let’s give honour where honour’s due: he kept our private discourse moving very adroitly while appearing concerned only with the general conversation, where he seemed to be doing all the talking. Over dessert, a new play was mentioned as being given at the Comédie-Française the following Monday. I remarked that I was sorry not to have my box available then; he offered his; I refused, of course, as expected; hereupon he replied rather amusingly that I had misinterpreted him: he would certainly never give up his box to someone he didn’t know, he was merely letting me know that his box would be at Madame la Maréchale’s disposal. She joined in the joke and I accepted.
After we’d gone back up to the drawing-room, as you can imagine he asked if he might have a seat in that box and when the Maréchale, who treats him in a very friendly way, promised him he might, if he behaved himself, he seized the opportunity to embark on one of those ambiguous conversati
ons which you told me he was so good at. Falling down on his knees like a good little boy, so he said, as an excuse to ask her advice and appeal to her judgement, he paid a large number of compliments of a rather affectionate nature which it was easy for me to take for myself. Since a good few people hadn’t gone back to cards after supper, the conversation became more general and less interesting; but our eyes spoke volumes. I said our eyes but I ought to say his, for mine spoke only one language: surprise. He must have thought I was amazed and extremely preoccupied by the prodigious effect he was having on me. I think I left him greatly satisfied; and I wasn’t at all dissatisfied myself.
The following Monday I went to the Comédie-Française as we’d arranged. In spite of your great literary curiosity, I can’t tell you a single thing about the performance except that Prévan has an outstanding gift for flattery and that the play was a flop: that was all I managed to gather. I was sorry to see the evening coming to an end for I was really enjoying myself, so in order to prolong my pleasure, I invited the Maréchale to come back to supper at my place; this provided me with an excuse to ask the charming flatterer too; he merely asked for a few moments to dash round to the Comtesses de P ——to make his apologies. Their names* refuelled my wrath; it was obvious he was starting his tale-telling. I recalled your wise counsels and made a promise … to pursue my adventure, certain that I would be able to cure him of this dangerous habit of indiscretion.
Not being part of my circle of friends, of whom there weren’t very many that evening, he had to show me the customary civilities, so when supper was announced, he offered me his hand. As I accepted I mischievously imparted a slight tremor to mine and as we walked in, I kept my eyes lowered and breathed heavily, seeming as though I was foreshadowing my downfall and apprehensive of my conqueror. He took note of all this wonderfully well and the gay deceiver now changed his tone and his demeanour on the spot. Till then he’d been urbane; he now grew loving. Not that his words were different, for our circumstances prevented him from speaking in any other way, but his glances became less spirited and more tender, his voice more softly inflected, his smile less sly and more smug. And then as he spoke, his wit gradually lost its sparkle, he became gentle. I ask you, Vicomte, could you have done any better yourself?
For my part, I took on such a dreamy look that people were forced to take notice of it; and when they took me to task, I carefully launched into clumsy protestations, looked flustered and cast a quick sly glance at Prévan, encouraging him to believe that my only fear was in fact that he might guess why I was upset.
After supper, I took advantage of one of those stories that our good Maréchale never fails to tell and stretched out voluptuously on my ottoman in a dreamily rapt attitude. I was not sorry for Prévan to see me so preoccupied and in fact he honoured me with his very special attention. You’ll understand how reluctant I was for my shy glances to cross the eyes of my conqueror but when in all humility I did turn them towards him, they quickly informed me that I was achieving the desired effect. I still had to persuade him that I shared his feelings, so when the Maréchale announced that she would have to go, I exclaimed in a melting voice: ‘Oh dear, it was so lovely lying there!’ However, I stood up but before we parted I asked her what plans she had, so as to have an excuse for telling her mine and I let her know that I should be ‘At home’ two days later. After which, we all went our separate ways.
I now put on my thinking cap. I had no doubt Prévan would take advantage of the quasi-rendezvous that I had just suggested, that he would turn up early so as to find me alone, and that he’d make a spirited attack; but I felt absolutely sure, too, that in the light of my reputation, he would not treat me with the lack of ceremony which anyone with the smallest claim to being a gentleman would show only towards disreputable or inexperienced women; and that once he’d uttered the word love and above all if he supposed he could get me to say it, I could see no prospect of failure.*
It’s such a convenience having dealings with you men of strict principles! Occasionally, some muddle-headed lover disconcerts you through his shyness or embarrasses you by his passionate raptures; it’s a sort of fever like any other: it brings shivers and hot sweats and sometimes various other symptons. But your clockwork routine is so easy to see through! Your arrival, your stance, your tone, your very words, I knew the lot before he arrived! So I won’t bother you with the details of our conversation which you can easily fill in yourself. Note merely that while pretending to defend myself, I did all I could to help him along: embarrassment, to give him time to speak; weak arguments, for him to refute; fear and mistrust, to encourage his protests and this everlasting refrain of his: ‘I’m only asking for one word’; and this silence of mine which seemed to be keeping him in suspense merely to make him more anxious to hear that magic word; and throughout all this palaver, a hand frequently grasped, as frequently withdrawn but never completely refused … You could spend a whole day like that; we spent one solid hour; and perhaps we should still be at it if we hadn’t heard a coach driving into my courtyard. As you would expect, this fortunate setback made him all the more pressing and seeing that I was now free from attack, I vouchsafed the magic word. People were announced and I was soon surrounded by quite a large number of callers.
Prévan asked if he could call on me the following morning and I agreed; but to guard against any surprises which I was anxious to avoid, I instructed my maid not to leave the bedroom all the time he was with me; as you know, you can see from there everything that happens in my dressing-room, where I received him. As we were able to talk freely and we both wanted the same thing, it didn’t take long to come to an agreement: but we couldn’t accept any unwelcome onlooker and this gave me the chance I was looking for.
So I now outlined my domestic arrangements to fit in with my plans and had no trouble in persuading him that we would never get a moment to ourselves and we must regard the golden opportunity we enjoyed yesterday as a sort of miracle which even then was fraught with dangers too great to risk again since someone might come into the drawing-room at any moment. I was careful to point out that this situation had arisen because up till now these habits had never caused me any inconvenience; at the same time, I emphasized how impossible it would be for me to change them without compromising myself in the eyes of my domestic staff. He tried to look disconsolate and upset and told me I didn’t really love him; and you can guess how greatly affected I was by all this! However, being keen to strike a decisive blow, I took refuge in tears. It was a case of: Zaïre, you are weeping!;* and all Orosmane’s love was replaced by the thought of the power he had over me and the hope this gave him of ruining me at his own good pleasure.
Once this dramatic moment had been played out, we came back to settling our arrangements. Since daytime was impossible, we turned to the alternative of night; but there was an insurmountable obstacle—my doorkeeper—and I refused to allow any attempt to bribe him. He suggested the sidegate to my garden but I’d anticipated that and invented a watchdog who, meek as a lamb during the day, turned into a ravaging hellhound at night. My willingness to go into all these details was exactly designed to encourage him and he now came up with the most ridiculous stratagem of all, which I promptly accepted.
In the first place, it appeared that his servant was as trustworthy as himself—which I was quite prepared to believe: there’s nothing to choose between the pair of them. I was to give a big supper-party in my house; he’d be invited and would choose his own time to leave, alone. His wily accomplice would call for his carriage, open the door and he, Prévan, would surreptitiously slip away. His coachman couldn’t possibly notice anything and so, being now still in my house although everybody would have seen him depart, the question was how to get up to my rooms. I confess that at first I had some trouble in finding enough poor arguments against his plan for him to seem to brush aside; he replied by quoting examples. Listening to him, you would have thought that it was the most normal thing in the world; he himself had use
d it a dozen times, in fact, it was his favourite method, since it was the least risky.
Bowing to these incontrovertible precedents, I frankly admitted the existence of a secret staircase leading up to the vicinity of my boudoir; I could leave the key in the door and he’d be able to shut himself in there and wait for my women to go to bed, without much risk. Then, to make my agreement sound more plausible, I changed my mind: I could only agree to our plan on condition that he promised to obey me unreservedly and behave himself properly… Ah, behave properly! In a word, I was quite willing to prove my love for him but not to satisfy his.
I was forgetting to mention how he was finally intending to leave: he was to make his exit through the garden gate; he would need only to wait until daybreak, when my Cerberus* would be as silent as the grave. At that time, there’s not a soul about and everyone’s most soundly asleep. If you’re surprised at such drivel it’s because you’re forgetting the situation existing between us: why should we need better arguments? He asked nothing better than for everything to be discovered, I was absolutely sure it wouldn’t be … We fixed the date for two days later.
Note that this whole thing had been arranged without Prévan’s once being seen in my company. I’d met him at supper in the house of one of my friends; he’d offered her his box for a new play and I’d accepted a seat in it. I then invited that woman to supper, in Prévan’s presence; I can hardly avoid inviting him to join us. He accepts and two days later pays the obligatory call on me. True, he does come to see me the following morning; but apart from the fact that morning visits don’t count, all I need to do is to say that I looked on it as something of an impertinence on his part and in fact I then place him fairly and squarely into the category of less intimate acquaintances by sending him a written invitation to a formal supper party. I can certainly say, with Annette: And that was all there was to it!*
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 25