Les Liaisons Dangereuses

by Pierre Choderlos De Laclos

  So now you’re left completely empty-handed! And that in spite of having two women on hand, one of them already in the ‘morning after’ stage and the other one asking nothing better than to be there, too! Well, you’re going to think I’m boasting and say it’s easy to be wise after the event, but I swear to you that I was expecting it. The fact is that you haven’t any real natural gift for your profession; you know only what you’ve learned and you lack any spark of imagination. So as soon as circumstances don’t fit into your fixed formulas and you have to leave the beaten track, you’re caught out like a schoolboy. Thus a touch of childishness on the one hand, a relapse into prudery on the other, are enough to throw you into disarray because you don’t meet them every day and you’re incapable of either predicting them or handling them. Oh, Vicomte, Vicomte, you’re teaching me never to judge men by their successful reputations; we’ll soon be saying of you: Well, he did show a lot of dash, once… And when you’ve committed one stupidity after another, you turn to me for help. It would seem that I’ve nothing else to do but ball you out. It’s true that that would be quite a big job …

  However that may be, one of those two adventures you undertook against my wishes and it doesn’t concern me; as for the other, since you did it partly to oblige me, I’ll take it in hand. I enclose a letter; after reading it, pass it to the Volanges girl; it will be more than adequate to send her back to you. But please do give the child a little attention and between us let’s turn her into a real disaster for her mother and Gercourt. Don’t be afraid of stepping up the dose: it’s quite obvious to me that she won’t be scared; and once our plans have borne fruit, she can turn into whatever she likes.

  Personally, I’ve no further interest in her. I’d toyed with the idea of, at least, enlisting her help in my intrigues and taking her on as my second fiddle but I don’t think she’s got it in her; she suffers from a silly sort of ingenuousness that didn’t even respond to your specific treatment, though that rarely fails; to my mind, that’s the most dangerous woman’s disease there is. In particular, it points to a character weakness well-nigh incurable and gets in everybody’s way. We’d be spending our time trying to turn the little girl into a charmer and merely teaching her how to become a trollop. I can’t think of anything more dull than that stupid sort of acquiescence, a girl who goes to bed without knowing how or why but merely because she’s been attacked and can’t say no. Women like that are nothing but pleasure machines.*

  You’ll say that that’s all we want her to be and quite enough for our plans. Fine! But let’s not forget that everyone soon learns how such machines work, so that in order to make safe use of it, you need to move quickly, not go on too long, and then dismantle it. True, we shan’t be short of ways and means of dumping her and Gercourt will certainly always be ready to have her put away in a convent whenever we want. And in any case, once he can no longer have any doubts as to his mishap, once it’s public and known to all, what does it matter if he takes his revenge, as long as he’s left without any consolation? And, no doubt, your thoughts on the mother are on the same lines as my remarks on the husband, so the whole thing’s as good as done.

  As I think this is the best course and intend to pursue it, I have made up my mind, as you’ll see in my letter, to push her along rather smartly; this makes it most important to leave nothing in her hands which might compromise me and I ask you to make sure that this happens. Once this precaution has been taken, I can answer for her mental attitude; the rest is up to you. All the same, if we see later on that this ingenuousness of hers shows signs of improvement, we’ll still have time to change our plans whenever we want. In any case, sooner or later we should always have had to do what we’re about to do, so whatever happens we’ll not be wasting our time and trouble.

  Do you know, mine nearly were wasted and Gercourt’s lucky star very nearly prevailed over my cautious approach. Didn’t Madame de Volanges suffer a moment of motherly weakness? Didn’t she think of giving her daughter to Danceny? That was the meaning of her more affectionate attitude which you noticed the morning after. That would have been another of your marvellous master-strokes! Luckily the tender-hearted mama wrote to me on the subject and I hope that my reply will have put her off it. I spoke at such lengths about virtue and above all flattered her so much that she’s bound to think I’m right.

  I’m only sorry I haven’t the time to make a copy of this edifying epistle to demonstrate to you the strictness of my morality. You’d appreciate the contempt I bestow on women who are depraved enough to take lovers! It’s so cosy being strict in writing! It never does any harm except to other people and doesn’t have the slightest effect on us. And I’m not unaware either that in her younger days the good lady had her lapses like anyone else and I wasn’t sorry to be able to have a little dig at her to mortify her conscience; it consoled me somewhat for having to violate my own by praising her so highly. Similarly, in the same letter, it was the thought of hurting Gercourt which encouraged me to say nice things about him.

  Farewell, Vicomte. I strongly approve of your decision to stay on where you are for a while. I’ve no means at all of furthering your progress in one direction; however, I do invite you to relieve your boredom with our joint ward. As for myself, despite your polite writ of summons, you will certainly appreciate that you still have to wait; and you will doubtless have to agree that it’s not my fault…

  107

  Azolan to the Vicomte de Valmont Paris, 5 October 17—, 11 p.m.

  Your lordship,

  In accordance with instructions, on receipt of your letter I promptly called on Monsieur Bertrand who gave me the twentyfive louis as your lordship had ordered him. I asked him for two more for Philippe who I’d told to leave immediately as your lordship said but he hadn’t got any money. But as Monsieur Bertrand didn’t want to do this, seeing as your lordship hadn’t given him any instructions, I had to give Philippe them out of my own pocket which I hope your lordship will be pleased to take into account, if your lordship so pleases.

  Philippe left yesterday evening. I told him not to leave the inn under any circumstances so we can be sure of getting hold of him if need be.

  I then proceeded at once to Madame de Tourvel’s residence to see Mademoiselle Julie but she was out and I was only able to speak to La Fleur but he couldn’t tell me anything as he’s only been in the house at mealtimes since his arrival. It’s the second footman who has been on duty and as your lordship will know, I have never met him. But I started to get to know him today.

  This morning I called back to see Mademoiselle Julie and she seemed very glad to see me. I questioned her as to why her mistress had come back but she told me she didn’t know anything about it and I believe she’s telling the truth. I made a fuss because she hadn’t warned me she was leaving and she gave me her word that she only knew herself that evening when her mistress was going to bed, so much so that she had to spend the whole night packing and tidying up and the poor girl didn’t get more than two hours’ sleep. She didn’t get away from her mistress’s bedroom until after one o’clock and as she left her mistress had just started writing.

  When she went off that morning Madame de Tourvel left a letter with the porter of the château. Mademoiselle Julie doesn’t know who it was for, she says perhaps your lordship but your lordship didn’t mention it.

  During the whole drive Madam wore a big hood over her face which meant it couldn’t be seen but Mademoiselle Julie feels pretty sure she was crying a lot. She didn’t say a word during the journey and didn’t want to stop at ——* as she had on the way down which didn’t please Mademoiselle Julie very much because she hadn’t had any breakfast. But as I told her, mistresses will be mistresses. Madam went to bed as soon as she arrived but only for a couple of hours. When she got up she sent for her major-domo and instructed him not to let anyone in. She didn’t get properly dressed at all. She sat down at table for dinner but only took a little soup and then immediately left and had her coffee sent up to
her room and Mademoiselle Julie went in at the same time. She found her mistress tidying papers away in her secretaire and saw that they were letters. I’d bet they were your lordship’s and one of the three letters which came for her that afternoon was still lying on her desk that whole evening. I feel positive that was one of your lordship’s too. But why did she go away like that? It seems very surprising to me. But your lordship knows all about it and it’s none of my business anyway.

  During the afternoon Madame de Tourvel went into her library and took two books up to her boudoir but Mademoiselle Julie swears she didn’t spend even a quarter of an hour reading them the whole day long and all she did was to read that letter and day-dream, resting her head on her hand. I thought your lordship would be very glad to know what the books were and as Mademoiselle Julie didn’t know, today I got her to take me into the library on the excuse of wanting to see what it’s like and there’s a gap for only two books, one is the second volume of Christian Thoughts and the other the first volume of a book called Clarisse.* I’m spelling it as it was printed, maybe your lordship will know all about it.

  Yesterday evening Madam didn’t have any supper, just a cup of tea. This morning she rang for her maid early, asked for her carriage at once and went to the Cistercians before nine o’clock and heard Mass. She wanted to confess but her confessor is away and won’t be back for a week or ten days. I thought your lordship would be interested in knowing this.

  Next she came back and had breakfast, then she started writing and wrote for nearly an hour. I soon had the chance to do what your lordship specially wanted, because I took the letters to the post. There wasn’t one for Madame de Volanges but I’m sending your lordship one addressed to Monsieur de Tourvel. I thought that would be the one likely to be the most interesting. There was also one for Madame de Rosemonde but I imagined your lordship would certainly be seeing that one any time he wanted and I sent it off. Anyway, your lordship will certainly learn everything since Madame de Tourvel has written to him as well. In future, I’ll get all the letters I want because it’s almost always Mademoiselle Julie who gives them to the servants and she’s promised that because she’s fond of me and of your lordship too, she’ll be happy to do whatever I like.

  She didn’t even want the money I offered her but I think your lordship will certainly want to give her a little present and if that is your lordship’s wish and he would like me to see to it, I can easily find out what she’d like.

  I do hope your lordship won’t think I’ve been slack in serving him and I’m very anxious to prove that your lordship’s accusations are unjustified. If I didn’t know that Madame de Tourvel was leaving, it was in fact because I was so keen to serve your lordship that I left the château at three a.m. and this prevented me from meeting Mademoiselle Julie the previous evening as usual, as I slept the night at the servants’ lodge* so as not to wake anyone up in the château.

  As for what your lordship told me off for about never having any money, for a start, it’s because I always like to be properly turned out as your lordship can judge and then you have to keep up the dignity of your position. I know I ought perhaps to put something by for the future but I hope I can rely on your lordship’s generosity, as your lordship is such a good master.

  As for going into Madame de Tourvel’s service while staying on with your lordship, I hope your lordship won’t insist. It was very different with the Duchesse de ——; but I certainly don’t want to be a liveryman and a judge’s liveryman* at that, after having the honour of being your lordship’s personal valet. As for the rest, your lordship has only to command someone who has the honour to be with respect and devotion, your lordship’s most humble obedient servant,

  Roux Azolan

  108

  Madame de Tourvel to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 5 October 17—

  Oh, what a kind, indulgent mother you are! And how badly I needed your letter! I thank you from the bottom of my heart; I’ve been reading it over and over again; I couldn’t put it down. It’s provided me with the few less unhappy moments I have had since I left you. How good you are! So being wise and virtuous doesn’t exclude sympathy for a weak woman! You take pity on my sufferings. Ah, if you only knew what they are like: they are appalling. I thought I had suffered all the pangs of love—alas, I’ve experienced little else but its pangs! But parting from the man you love, perhaps for ever, is an indescribable torment which you have to experience in order to have the slightest idea of its pain. And that pain torturing me today will still be there tomorrow and the next day and the next, for the rest of my life! Dear God, I am still so young and so many years of sorrow still lie in front of me!

  Creating your own misfortune; rending your heart with your own hands; and while you suffer such unendurable agony, feeling all the time that you could put an end to it with one single word … but this word would constitute a crime! Ah, dear, dear friend! …

  When I took this painful decision to go away and leave him, I hoped that absence would give me courage and strength: how mistaken I was! On the contrary it has shattered them both. True, I no longer have to struggle; but even while I was resisting, I was not utterly forlorn; at least I was able to see him sometimes; indeed often, although I didn’t even dare look in his direction, I could sense his eyes on me, yes, dear friend, I could sense them, they seemed to set my soul on fire and though they didn’t pass through my own eyes, they could still reach into my heart. And now I’m lonely and unhappy, isolated from everything that is dear to me, every moment of my miserable existence is punctuated by my tears, there is nothing to sweeten its bitterness, nothing to console me for the sacrifices I have made; and till now, these have succeeded only in making those yet to come even more agonizing …

  Even yesterday I again sensed his presence. Amongst my letters, there was one from him; the servant bringing them was still some yards away from me when I recognized it amongst the others. In spite of myself I sprang to my feet; I was trembling, I could scarcely hide the state I was in; it was an emotion not without pleasure … A few seconds later, left on my own, this illusory glow quickly died away and I was left with yet one more sacrifice to make. Indeed, how could I open this letter that I was dying to read? I cannot escape my fate: even the consolations which seem to be open to me lead only to fresh frustrations and the thought that they are shared by Monsieur de Valmont only makes them more cruel…

  And there at last you have the name which is haunting me all the time and which has been so hard for me to write. I was truly alarmed by the half-reproachful way in which you spoke to me on this point and I do beg you to believe that my reticence did not mean lack of trust in you; indeed, why should I be afraid of mentioning him by name? It’s my feelings that make me ashamed, not the object of them. Is there any other man more worthy of inspiring them? Yet somehow his name did not come at all naturally to my pen and even this time I needed to think hard before writing it.

  I come back to him: you tell me he seemed greatly affected by my leaving? What did he do? What did he say? Did he mention returning to Paris? I beg you to try to dissuade him from doing that as vigorously as you can. If he has judged me rightly, he won’t bear me any grudge for my action; but he must also feel that it is an irrevocable decision. One of the things which most torments me is not knowing what he is thinking. Of course, his letter is still lying there … but you surely agree with me that I mustn’t open it?

  Dear, understanding friend, you are my only slight link with him. I don’t wish to take advantage of your good nature and I well understand that you are not able to write long letters … but you will not refuse your daughter a brief word or two, first to help her to keep up her courage and secondly to console her in her struggle. Goodbye, dear Madame, with my very deepest respect, your, etc.

  109

  Cécile Volanges to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 10 October 17—

  Dear Madame de Merteuil, I’ve only just given back today the letter you were so very kind to wr
ite to me. I kept it for four days although I was often scared in case it might be discovered, but I was hiding it very carefully and whenever I felt miserable I shut myself away in my room and reread it.

  I can certainly see that what I thought was a great misfortune in fact isn’t really one at all and it must be admitted that it gives a lot of pleasure so I’m not really upset any more. It’s only thinking of Danceny which still worries me sometimes. But there are lots of times now when I don’t think of him at all! And another thing is, Monsieur de Valmont is so nice!

  I made it up with him two days ago. It was very easy as I’d hardly said two words before he said that if I had something to tell him, he’d come to my room that evening and I only needed to say that I was agreeable. And then once he was there he didn’t seem any crosser than if I’d never done anything to him. He only told me off later on and so nicely… Just like you, which proved he felt very friendly disposed towards me, too.

  I can’t tell you how many funny stories he told me that I’d never have believed, especially about Mummy. I’d love you to tell me if it’s all true. It certainly is true that I couldn’t help laughing, so much so that once I actually burst out laughing so loudly that we were both quite frightened because Mama might have heard us and if she had come to look, where would I have been? I’m sure she’d have packed me off back to the convent on the spot!

  As we have to be careful and as Monsieur de Valmont himself said he wouldn’t like to risk compromising me for anything in the world, we’ve agreed that in future he’ll just come and unlock my door and then we’d go to his room, where there’s no danger. In fact, I went there yesterday and I’m waiting for him to come as I’m writing to you now. So I hope you’ll stop telling me off, Madame.