Yes, I love watching, contemplating that prudent woman launched unwittingly and inexorably on a steep and slippery slope which is carrying her down despite herself and forcing her to follow me. She is terrified of the risks she is running and would like to stop but can’t hold back. With skill and care she may perhaps slow her progress down but her legs keep propelling her on. Now and again, afraid of the danger facing her, she closes her eyes and lets herself go, placing herself in my hands. More often, she is spurred on to greater efforts by some new terror, and with death in her heart, struggles to retreat; exerting all her strength she manages to climb laboriously a few steps backwards; but soon, by some magical power, she finds herself once more closer than ever to the danger she’s been vainly trying to escape. Then, having no other guide or support but me, she abandons any idea of blaming me for her inevitable downfall but appeals to me to postpone it. And now she offers up to me the fervid prayers and humble entreaties that poor fearful mortals offer to the Divinity. And you expect me to be deaf to these appeals, to destroy her worship of me by my own actions, and use the power in which she is hoping to find salvation to seal her doom! Oh, at least let me have time to contemplate this touching struggle between love and virtue.
Do you really think that such a performance, which you flock into the theatre to watch and applaud with wild enthusiasm, is less fascinating in real life? You listen eagerly to the outpourings of a pure and tender soul filled with dread at the prospect of the happiness she is longing for and who still continues to defend her virtue even when she has stopped resisting: then is the man who inspires such emotions to be the only one not to enjoy them? Yet these are the marvellous delights which this heavenly woman is offering to me every day. And you blame me for savouring such joys! Ah, the time will come soon enough when she will have been degraded by her downfall and have become in my eyes a woman like all the rest.
But I’m talking about her and forgetting that I promised myself not to talk about her: I feel linked to her by some mysterious force which draws me back to her, even while I’m treating her abominably. Such ways are dangerous! Let’s change the subject. I’ll become my old self and talk about something more cheerful: your ward—who’s now become my ward. I hope you’ll appreciate that I haven’t lost my touch.
As my tender-hearted puritan has been treating me rather more nicely the past few days, I’ve been paying her less attention and I realized that the Volanges girl is, in fact, extremely pretty and while it was stupid to be in love with her like young Danceny, perhaps it was no less stupid not to use her for a little distraction, something which I sorely need in my current solitary state. And it seemed to me only fair to get some return for all my efforts on her behalf; I also remembered that you’d offered her to me before Danceny had any lien on her and I felt it reasonable to claim some rights on a property he owned by default purely because I’d turned it down. The little miss’s prettiness, her fresh lips, her childish looks, and even her gawkiness reinforced these judicious observations and I resolved to take appropriate action, which has been crowned by success.
You’re already agog to learn how I managed to supplant her beloved suitor so speedily and how one sets about seducing such a young and untried filly. You needn’t worry; I didn’t need any charm at all. Whereas to achieve your goal you artfully deploy the dainty wiles of your sex, I claimed the inalienable prerogative of the male and asserted my authority. Since I was confident of subduing my prey once I could lay hands on it, the only wiles I needed were to make contact and those I employed hardly deserved the name.
I took advantage of the first letter I got from Danceny for his beloved and having informed her by means of a pre-arranged signal, instead of cleverly handing it over, I cleverly avoided doing so, feigning to share her anxiety at the delay which I was myself engineering. Having created the problem, I then indicated the solution.
The young lady’s bedroom has a door opening on to the corridor but as might be expected, her Mummy had charge of the key. All that was needed was to get my hands on it. Child’s play: if I had it in my possession for a couple of hours, I could guarantee to get a copy of it. Then everything—correspondence, private conversations, secret nocturnal rendezvous—would be safe and simple. But would you believe it, the timid child took fright and refused. Anyone else would have desponded: I merely saw the chance of indulging in an even more titillating pleasure. I wrote off to Danceny complaining of her refusal, with such success that our stupid young man couldn’t wait to persuade his timorous sweetheart, indeed even insist, that she must grant my request and do everything I asked.
I must confess that I was delighted to have swapped roles with the youngster and got him to do for me what he was relying on me to do for him. This seemed to me to double the fun; so, as soon as I’d got this precious key, I lost no time in making use of it straight away. That was last night.
Having ascertained that everything was quiet in the château, armed with my dark lantern and dressed in a manner appropriate to the late hour and required by the circumstances, I paid my first visit to your ward. I’d ensured that everything was in order—in fact, she’d done so on my instructions—to get in without making a sound. She was in her first sleep, the sound sleep of youth, and so I was able to approach her bed without waking her. At first I was tempted to go straight into action and try to pass myself off as a maiden’s dream, but I was frightened by the possible consequences of her surprise and the ensuing noise, so I chose to waken the charming sleeper gently and in fact managed to prevent her from crying out as I feared.
After calming her first fears, since I hadn’t come to see her just for a chat I risked taking a few liberties. No doubt she hasn’t been properly taught in her convent about all the dangers to which a shy, innocent girl is exposed and what parts of her person she has to defend in order not to be overrun in a surprise attack, for she concentrated her whole attention and efforts on protecting herself from being kissed. But as the kiss was a feint, all the rest was left undefended. How could I possibly resist such an opportunity? So I changed my tactics and immediately occupied another outpost. Here we both nearly came to grief: terribly scared, the little girl genuinely attempted to scream but fortunately her voice faded into tears. She also flung herself towards her bell-pull but I cleverly stopped her in time.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I said. ‘Do you want to destroy your reputation completely? What do I care if somebody comes? How will you be able to persuade them that I’m not here with your full consent? Is there anybody but you who could have provided me with the means to get in here? And how will you set about explaining what this key is being used for—a key you’ve given me and which couldn’t have possibly been obtained without your help?’ This short lecture didn’t calm either her anger or her distress but it did make her sue for peace. I don’t know if my tone lent wings to my eloquence and it’s true that my gesture was strictly earthy. But what sort of elegance of expression can you expect in my situation with one hand holding her down and the other amorously engaged? But if you have a clear picture of my position, you’ll at least have to agree that it favoured launching an attack. However, as you once said, I don’t know anything about anything and the simplest of women, a convent girl, can twist me round her little finger …
This particular convent girl, while still creating a lot of fuss, realized that she had to make up her mind and parley. Since her pleas left me unmoved, she had to proceed to make a bargain. You perhaps imagine I set a high price for abandoning my tactical advantage? Dear me no; I promised her everything she asked for in exchange for a kiss. True, I didn’t keep my promise but I did give good reasons for failing to do so: had we properly agreed whether it was to be a kiss given or received? After a lot of haggling, we agreed on a second kiss which, this time, was to be received.
So, guiding her timid arms round my body and clasping her more ardently with one of mine, this delectable kiss was received very nicely indeed, in fact so perfectly received
that a lover couldn’t have done it better…
Such honesty deserved some reward and I at once granted her request: my hand relinquished its post but by some odd chance, I’d slipped into the place it’d been occupying. And now you’ll assume that I would eagerly move into action on the spot, won’t you? Well, you’re quite wrong. As I’ve explained before, I’ve developed a taste for dawdling. Once your destination’s in sight, why rush?
But quite seriously, I was really glad to observe an instance of the irresistible force of opportunity which was operating here without any extraneous influences. In fact, she was having to struggle against the force of love, supported by maidenly modesty or purity, further strengthened by the foul temper I’d managed to put her into, which was very foul indeed. It was nothing but opportunity, but it was there, on offer and present on the spot, and love was not.
To verify my observations, I mischievously applied just sufficient force for her to be able to resist. But when my charming foe, taking advantage of my leniency, was on the point of escaping, I held her back by the same fear which had previously proved so successful and without any further effort, the little love-bird, forgetting all her vows, first of all capitulated and finally acquiesced. Not that after this first moment, reproaches and tears didn’t start up again more violently than ever. I’m not certain whether they were true or false but as is always the case, both ceased abruptly as soon as I set about giving further grounds for them. Finally, after shifting from weakness to reproaches and back, we did not part until mutual satisfaction had been achieved and we were both looking forward to a repeat performance tonight.
I didn’t get to bed till dawn, dog-tired and ready to drop from lack of sleep but I decided to forgo bed so as to be able to go down to breakfast: I’m passionately fond of seeing how people look the morning after… You can’t imagine how this little girl looked! How embarrassed she was! And the trouble she had walking! Never daring to raise her eyes, so terribly swollen, with big blue circles under them! And that little round face had become so long! You can’t imagine anything funnier. And for the first time her mother showed concern at this extraordinary change and seemed to show her some affection! And Madame de Tourvel was fussing over her too. Well, that solicitude is only out on loan; the time will come for it to be called in and that time is not too distant. Farewell, fair lady.
97
Cécile Volanges to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 1 October 17—
O Heavens, dear Madame de Merteuil, I can’t tell you how dreadfully upset and miserable I am! Where can I find someone to console me and advise me? I’m in such a horrible fix! That Monsieur de Valmont! … And Danceny! Oh no, whenever I think of him I feel so awful! … How can I begin to tell you about it? What can I say? I just don’t know what to do! But my heart is so full, I must talk to someone and you’re the only person whom I can possibly dare confide in. You’ve always been so kind to me! But this time you mustn’t be kind, I don’t deserve it! How can I put it? I don’t want it! Everybody here has been concerned about me today and they’ve all just made me more upset. I knew perfectly well that I didn’t deserve it! But you must do the opposite, you must tell me off really badly because I’ve been a very naughty girl. But after that you must help me because if you won’t be kind and help me I shall die of grief.
So let me explain … oh, my hand’s trembling, as you can see I can hardly hold my pen, I can feel myself blushing all over, that’s because I’m red with shame. Ah well, I shall have to bear it, it will be the first part of my punishment for doing such a terrible, terrible thing. I’m going to tell you everything.
Well, up to now Monsieur de Valmont has been passing on Monsieur Danceny’s letters to me and then he suddenly decided it was too difficult and asked for a key to my room. I can assure you that I wasn’t at all keen but he went and wrote to Danceny about it and Danceny wanted it as well and as I feel so unhappy whenever I have to refuse him something, particularly since me going away has made him so miserable, in the end I agreed. I had no idea what a dreadful thing it was going to lead to.
Last night Monsieur de Valmont used the key to come into my bedroom when I was asleep. It was so completely unexpected that I was very frightened when he woke me up but as he spoke to me straight away I recognized him and didn’t cry out. And then my first thought was that perhaps he was bringing me a letter from Danceny. But it wasn’t that at all, for a second or two later he tried to kiss me and while I was naturally trying to stop him he managed to do something that I wouldn’t want anyone in the whole world to do … but first he wanted a kiss. So I had to give him one because what else could I do? After all, I’d tried to call out but apart from the fact that I couldn’t, he carefully pointed out that if anyone came, he’d throw all the blame on to me and of course it was very easy to do that because of the key. Afterwards he still wouldn’t budge, he wanted another kiss and this time, I don’t quite know exactly how it happened, but he got me all flustered and after that it was worse than ever … Oh dear, it was really very wrong … Anyway, in the end! … you won’t mind if I don’t tell you the rest, will you, but I’m as miserable as anyone can possibly be.
The thing I blame myself for most, I’m afraid I’ve got to tell you, is that I’ve got a dreadful feeling I didn’t resist him as much as I could have done. I don’t know how that happened, I certainly don’t love Monsieur de Valmont, quite the opposite, yet there were moments when I felt as if I did. Don’t imagine that prevented me from saying no all the time but I could feel that I wasn’t doing quite the same thing that I was saying, it was as if I couldn’t help myself and I was dreadfully confused as well! If it’s always so hard as that to defend yourself, you must have to get very used to doing it! It’s true Monsieur de Valmont has a way of talking so that you don’t quite know how to answer. Anyway, when he left I felt almost sorry and I was weak-minded enough to agree for him to come back tonight. That is what upsets me more than anything else.*
But I can certainly guarantee that I shan’t let him in. And the moment he’d gone I certainly realized that I was quite wrong to have promised him. And I’ve been crying all the time since then. It’s Danceny who makes me particularly sad! Every time I thought of him, I cried more than ever till I nearly choked and I still couldn’t get him out of my mind and I’m still not able to now—as you can see my paper’s all wet. No, I’ll never be able to get over it, if only because of him. Anyway, I was quite exhausted but I still couldn’t get a minute’s sleep all night. And when I got up this morning and saw myself in the mirror, it was frighful how changed I looked.
Mummy noticed it as soon as she saw me and asked me what was the matter. I burst into tears. I thought she was going to tell me off and then perhaps I might not have felt so miserable. But just the opposite, she spoke to me so nicely! I really didn’t deserve it! She told me not to be so upset! She didn’t know why I was! She said I’d be making myself ill! Oh, sometimes I wish I was dead. I couldn’t bear it any longer, I flung myself into her arms and said: ‘Oh, Mummy, your daughter’s so unhappy!’ Then Mummy couldn’t help shedding a tear too and all that only made me feel worse. Luckily she didn’t ask why I was so unhappy, because I wouldn’t have known what to say.
Oh, dear Madame de Merteuil, do please write to me as soon as you can and tell me what I must do because I haven’t the heart to think of anything and I just keep on feeling upset. Please send your letter via Monsieur de Valmont but if you’re writing to him at the same time, don’t tell him I’ve said anything to you.
With kindest regards, Madame, yours faithfully and respectfully… but I don’t dare sign my name.
98
Madame de Volanges to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 2 October 17—
Dear, dear friend, only a few days ago you were asking me for comfort and advice and now it’s my turn to make the same request. I really am most upset and afraid lest I haven’t done all I ought to avoid this situation which is causing me such di
stress.
My anxiety concerns my daughter. Ever since we left Paris I had not failed to observe that she was sad and depressed. However, I was expecting this and had steeled my heart to act with all the strictness I deemed necessary. I hoped that absence and other interests would quickly destroy her love, which I saw more as a childish infatuation than a truly passionate feeling. However, far from achieving anything during our stay here, I have become aware that my child is falling more and more deeply into a dangerous decline and I have serious fears for her health. During the last few days particularly there has been a marked change for the worse; this struck me especially yesterday and we were all very much alarmed here.
Further evidence that she is greatly affected is her readiness to overcome the shyness she has always shown me. Yesterday morning when I simply asked her if she was unwell, she flung herself into my arms sobbing and saying that she was terribly unhappy! I cannot tell you how upset she made me feel: tears suddenly came into my own eyes and I barely had time to turn my head away to prevent her from seeing them. Luckily I had the tact not to ask any more questions but none the less it is clear that she is tormented by this unhappy passion.
So what ought I to do if this situation persists? Shall I bring about my own daughter’s unhappiness? Constancy and sensitivity are the most precious qualities* of the human heart: am I to turn them against her? Is this a mother’s role? And even if I were to stifle that most natural of feelings which bids us to seek our child’s happiness; were I to regard it as a weakness to do what on the contrary I regard as the first and most sacred of our duties; if I force my choice on her, shall I not bear the responsibility for the disastrous consequences that may ensue? A strange use of a mother’s authority to force her daughter to choose between unhappiness and crime!
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 28