No, my dear friend, I do not intend to set an example that I have so often criticized. No doubt I have been attempting to make a choice on my daughter’s behalf; in so doing I was merely giving her the benefit of my experience; I wasn’t exercising any right, I was fulfilling a duty. But were I to make the decision for her and ignore this attachment which I had no means of preventing, when neither she nor I can predict how strong it will be or how long it may last, then I should be betraying that duty. No, I shall not agree to her marrying one man because of her love for another. I’d rather put my authority at risk than her virtue.
So I think the most sensible decision is for me to withdraw my acceptance of Monsieur de Gercourt’s proposal. I’ve explained my reasons to you and I think that they outweigh the promise I made. I’ll go further: in the present circumstances, keeping my word would really amount to breaking it. After all, if I owe it to my daughter not to reveal her secret to Monsieur de Gercourt, I owe it to him at least not to take advantage of my failure to inform him and to do for him everything that I think he would do himself if he were so informed. On the contrary, shall I be so dishonest as to mislead him when he is relying on my good faith and, at a time when he is honouring me by choosing me as his second mother, deceive him in his choice of the mother of his children?* Such considerations, whose validity I cannot deny, I find more alarming than I can say.
I compare these disastrous premonitions with the picture of my daughter happily married to the man whom her heart has chosen, her wifely duties a pleasure, my son-in-law equally content, congratulating himself every day on his own choice and the pair of them happy purely by making each other happy; and their mutual happiness combining to make me happy too. Am I to sacrifice such a golden prospect for futile considerations which in fact are purely financial? What is the point of my daughter having been born rich if she becomes nothing but a slave to her wealth?
I agree that perhaps Monsieur de Gercourt is a better match than I could have hoped for my daughter and I even admit to having been extremely flattered when his choice fell on her. But after all, Danceny is from an equally good family and his personal qualities are in no way inferior to Gercourt’s; and he has the benefit of loving and being loved by my daughter. True, he’s not well off but isn’t my daughter wealthy enough for two? Ah, why deprive her of the enjoyment of making the one she loves a rich man?
Aren’t those marriages based on calculation rather than on compatibility, so-called arranged marriages where everything is accommodated except personal tastes and temperament, the most fertile cause of these scandals which are becoming commoner every day? I prefer to wait and see; at least I’ll have time to get to know my daughter who is almost a stranger. I feel I have the strength of mind to make her temporarily unhappy if, in the end, it results in a happiness based on a firmer foundation; but I have no heart to condemn her to endless despair.
Well, dear friend, these are the thoughts which are plaguing me and on which I wish to ask your advice. Such serious matters are far removed from your own charming, lively nature and they seem inappropriate to your young age but you are a tower of strength far beyond your years! In any case, your friendship will be at hand to reinforce your caution and I have no fear that either of them will fail to come to the aid of a worried mother who is anxiously appealing to you for help.
Goodbye, dear, kind friend from, as always, sincerely your, etc.
99
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 2 October 17—, in the evening
A couple of minor incidents, fair lady; no real activity, merely scenes. So possess your soul in patience, indeed quite a lot of patience, for while my judge’s wife is advancing very gingerly, your ward is retreating and that is far worse. Well, I have the good sense to laugh at such trifles. I’m really warming to my stay here and I can honestly say that in my old aunt’s gloomy château I’ve never felt a single moment of boredom. In fact, aren’t I experiencing delights, frustrations, hope, suspense? What more can you expect on a larger stage? An audience? Ah well, let’s just wait and see, one will turn up. Even if they won’t be seeing me on the job, I’ll be able to show them the finished product and they’ll only need to admire and applaud. Oh yes, they’ll be applauding all right, for I can now at last foresee with complete confidence the moment of my pious prude’s downfall. This evening I witnessed the death-throes of her virtue and in its place tenderness and frailty will prevail. I can set the date as not later than our first private conversation. But I can already hear your protests: ‘What arrogance! Predicting victory and bragging about it in advance!’ Now, now, dear lady, not so fast! So to prove how actually modest I am, let me begin by telling you the story of one of my defeats.
Your little ward really is quite ludicrous! She’s certainly a child who deserves to be treated as such. She should be glad to get away with no worse punishment than being stood in the corner! Would you believe it, after what took place between us two nights ago and the friendly terms on which we parted yesterday morning, when I tried to go back last night, as we’d agreed, I found her door locked on the inside! What do you say to that? Occasionally one does come across this sort of childishness the day before … but the day after? Isn’t that droll?
However, at first I didn’t find it a laughing matter, in fact I’ve never felt my explosive nature react more strongly. True, I wasn’t actually looking forward to this further meeting, it was merely a matter of routine; I badly needed my own bed which for the moment seemed preferable to anyone else’s and I’d been sorry to have to vacate it. Yet no sooner had I met an obstacle than I felt myself champing at the bit; above all, I felt humiliated at having been made a fool of by a slip of a girl. So I retreated in a foul temper determined not to have anything further to do with the stupid child or her affairs. I sat down and immediately wrote her a note telling her exactly what I thought of her, intending to hand it to her today. But after having, as they say, slept on it, next morning I bethought myself that, since there’s not much choice of fun here, I might as well hang on to this bit, so I tore up my rude letter. Thinking it over since, I still feel some surprise that the thought even crossed my mind of putting an end to an adventure before collecting enough evidence to ruin its heroine. Amazing how impulse can lead us astray! Happy, fair lady, the person who, like yourself, has managed early in life to acquire the habit of never giving way to it! Anyway, I’ve put off my revenge, a sacrifice I make in furtherance of your plans for Gercourt.
Now I’m no longer angry, your ward’s behaviour seems to me merely ludicrous. I should very much like to know what she hopes to gain by it! I confess I’m completely at a loss; if it’s just to defend herself, it must be said that she’s left it a trifle late. One day she really must give me the key to this riddle, I’m highly intrigued. Perhaps she was just tired? Frankly, that might well be the answer, since she doubtless isn’t aware that love’s arrows, like Achilles’ spear,* carry with them the antidote for the wounds they cause. But on second thoughts, I hardly think so: to judge by the long face she’s been putting on all day, I’d be inclined to think that there’s a spot of remorse involved … a whiff of virtue. Virtue indeed! She’s a fine one to feel virtuous … Ah, she should leave such matters to a woman really born to be virtuous, the only one who can make it something wonderful and lovable … Forgive me, fair lady, but it was only this evening that a scene took place between Madame de Tourvel and me that I must tell you about and I’m still somewhat overwhelmed and trying to get rid of the impression it made on me. In fact, it’s to help me to do this that I began this letter to you in the first place. You must let me describe it to you. Allowances have to be made for these first reactions …
For some days now, Madame de Tourvel and I have been agreed as to our mutual feelings; any disagreement now is purely verbal. It was indeed her friendship always corresponding to my love; but this conventional language made no difference to the fundamental fact and had we remained within this conv
ention, I should have perhaps moved more slowly, if not less surely. There was already no question of my having to leave, as she’d at first insisted; and as for our conversations, which are now a daily occurrence, I make a point of offering her the opportunity which she is no less eager to grasp.
As our little lovers’ meetings usually take place during a walk, the appalling weather which we’ve had all day offered me little prospect. I was really put out; but I failed to foresee what I would gain through this hitch.
As we couldn’t go for a walk, on leaving table a game of cards was proposed and as I’m not a keen card-player and was no longer needed, I seized the opportunity to go up to my rooms, planning to stay there until the game was likely to be ending. As I was going downstairs to join them again I passed my charmer about to go into her apartment and either through lack of caution or through weakness she asked me in that soft voice of hers: ‘Where are you going? There’s no one left in the drawing-room.’ As you may imagine, I needed no further invitation to try to go into her room with her; I found less resistance than I’d expected. It’s true that I took the precaution of starting our conversation outside the door with a few casual remarks; but scarcely had we settled down than I turned to the real agenda, namely my love for my friend. Her first reaction, although straightforward, seemed to me rather promising. ‘Oh, please let us not talk about that here,’ she said; and she was trembling. Poor woman! She can see the writing on the wall.
Yet she was wrong to be afraid. Since I’m confident of success one of these days and I can see her using up so many of her reserves of energy in her hopeless struggle, I have for some time past decided to husband my own and wait passively until she gives in exhausted. You surely appreciate that in this case unconditional surrender is required and I don’t want to be helped by favourable circumstances. It was indeed after planning this campaign and so as to be able to press her without committing myself too deeply that I had insisted on the word love which she so stubbornly rejected. Knowing that my love was thought to be ardent enough, I tried a more tender note: I’d stopped being angry at her refusal, merely distressed; so didn’t my friend, sensitive as she was, owe me some consolation?
In the course of this consolation, her hand remained clasping mine, her shapely body pressed against my arm and we were extremely close to each other. You have certainly noticed how, in such situations, as the defence crumbles, the exchange of requests and refusals grows more intense, then the head turns away, eyes are lowered, and speech is reduced to a few broken, whispered words. These precious symptoms show quite unequivocally that the heart has given its consent; but this consent has rarely communicated itself as yet to the senses. I even hold the view that it is always risky to make too overt a gesture because this stage of surrender is always accompanied by a delicious feeling of well-being and any attempt to jerk the person out of this state would create a mood which would infallibly work in favour of the defence.
In the present instance caution was all the more indicated since my romantic dreamer would undoubtedly be terrified at having lost control of herself. So I warily didn’t even ask her to utter the word I’d been begging her for; no, a glance would be sufficient, one single glance would make me a happy man.
And fair lady, those lovely eyes did indeed look into mine and those heavenly lips even said, ‘Well, yes, I…’ But all of a sudden her eyes went blank, her voice died away and the adorable woman fell into my arms. I’d hardly had time to catch her before she shook herself free and wild-eyed, with her hands held heavenwards, she cried out, ‘O God, dear God, oh save me!’, and immediately, quicker than lightning, fell on her knees ten steps away from me. I heard her almost choking and rushed forward to help her but she caught hold of my hands, bathing them in her tears and sometimes even clasping my knees, exclaiming: ‘Yes, you will do it, you will be my saviour! You cannot want me to die. Leave me! Save me! Leave me! Oh, in God’s name, leave me!’ These disjointed words could barely be heard through wild bursts of sobbing. Meanwhile she was holding on to me with such force that I would have been quite unable to leave. So gathering all my strength, I raised her up into my arms. At the same moment her sobs ceased, she stopped talking, her limbs became rigid, and her frenzied outburst turned into violent convulsions.
I confess that I too was violently moved and I believe I would have done as she asked even if the situation hadn’t forced me. The fact remains that after giving her assistance, I left as she had requested. I’m delighted to have done so: I’ve already received most of my reward for it.
I had been expecting that, as on the day of my first declaration, she would fail to appear that evening. However, at about eight o’clock she came down to the drawing-room and merely announced to the assembled company that she had felt very unwell. Her face was extremely drawn and her voice weak, though she looked quite composed; but there was a gentle look in her eyes which frequently rested on me. When she declined to play cards and I was obliged to take her place, she sat down beside me. During supper she remained alone in the drawingroom. When I went back there I thought I detected that she had been crying; to discover if I was right I said that it seemed to me as if she had been feeling unwell again, to which she replied, in a friendly voice: ‘That sort of illness takes longer to cure than to catch!’ Then when we all retired for the night, I offered her my hand and at the door of her room she gripped mine firmly. It’s true that her action seemed somehow involuntary: so much the better, it’s further proof of my power over her.
I wouldn’t mind betting that at the moment she’s delighted at her situation: she’s paid her dues in full, and all that remains for her is to cash in on all the benefits! Perhaps she’s pondering over this pleasant thought even while I’m writing this letter! And even if she’s doing the opposite and thinking up some new method of defence, don’t we well know how all such plans turn out? I ask you, can it possibly extend beyond our next meeting? Of course I expect that, naturally enough, it won’t be granted without a little fuss: that’s fair enough; but once these earnest, prudish females have started kicking over the traces, what’s to hold them back? Their love is literally like an explosion: any resistance only makes it more violent. If I were to stop pursuing her, my coy puritan would set off after me.
And so, fairest lady, at any moment you may expect to see me on your doorstep claiming my reward. You won’t have forgotten what you promised me once I had succeeded, will you? A small matter of cuckolding your Chevalier? Are you ready? For my part I’m looking forward to it as much as if we’d never known each other. Besides, knowing you is perhaps a good reason for wanting it all the more …
Je suis juste et ne suis pas galant.*
It will also be the first time I’ve been unfaithful to this earnest woman whom I’ve finally subdued and I promise to use the first possible excuse to slip away from her for twenty-four hours. It will be her punishment for having kept me away from you for so long. Do you realize I’ve been busy on this affair for more than two months? Yes, it’s two months and three days; it’s true that includes tomorrow because the consummation won’t take place till then. I’m reminded that Madame de B ——resisted for three whole months. I’m delighted to see that downright flirts have better defences than strict puritans …
Goodbye, fair lady, I must leave you, for it’s very late. This letter has taken longer than I’d intended but as I’m sending some things to Paris early tomorrow I was anxious to seize the opportunity of letting you know as quickly as possible of your friend’s good fortune.
100
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 3 October 17—
Dear lady, I’ve been fooled, betrayed, ruined.* I’m in despair: Madame de Tourvel has left—and left without informing me. And I wasn’t there to stop her, to reproach her for her shameful betrayal! Oh, don’t imagine that I’d have let her leave! She would have stayed, yes, she’d have stayed even if I’d had to use brute force. But I was lulled into a false sense of
security, I never suspected anything; yes, I was asleep and the lightning struck. No, I just can’t think what possessed her, I shall have to give up trying to understand women.
When I recall what happened yesterday! No, that very evening! Those gentle glances! That loving voice! And her pressure on my hand! And all the time she was plotting to run away from me! Oh, women, women! And you complain if you are deceived! Yet all our betrayals are copied straight from you.
Ah, the pleasure of vengeance! I’ll seek that faithless woman out and impose my will on her again. Love enabled me to do it before, just think what can be achieved by love spurred on by revenge! Once more she’ll be weeping at my feet, trembling, bathed in tears, begging for mercy in her deceitful voice. And I shall be merciless.
What will she be doing at this moment? What will she be thinking? Perhaps she’s rubbing her hands with glee at having deceived me and, like all her sex, that’s what she most enjoys … What her much-vaunted virtue failed to achieve, her guile has succeeded in doing, effortlessly… I must have been out of my mind! I was daunted by her high principles; my real danger was her dishonesty.
And I’ve got to swallow my resentment, not dare show anything but affectionate concern when my heart is boiling with fury! To see myself once again reduced to pleading with a defiant woman who has broken away from my authority! Did I have to be humiliated in this way? And who’s done it? A timid little woman who’s never been trained to fight. What benefit have I gained from winning a place in her heart, firing her with love, exciting in her a frenzy of desire when she’s now sitting calmly in her safe retreat feeling prouder at having run away than I am of all my victories? And am I supposed to take this lying down? Dear lady, you can’t possibly think that; such a low opinion of me would be too humiliating!
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 29