But one thing in your letter which did very much surprise me was what you said about when I’m married, on the subject of Danceny and Monsieur de Valmont. It seems to me that one night at the opera you were telling me the opposite, that once I was married I couldn’t love anyone but my husband and I’d even have to forget Danceny. Perhaps I didn’t quite understand and I do prefer it to be the other way round because now I shan’t mind getting married so much. In fact, I’m even looking forward to it because then I’ll be much freer and I hope that I’ll be able to arrange it so that I can think of no one but Danceny… I really do feel that I’ll only be truly happy with him because at the moment thinking about him still worries me and I can only feel happy when I can stop thinking about him and that is very hard. And as soon as I do think about him I start being miserable again straight away.
What consoles me a bit is that you promise me that because of what has happened Danceny will love me all the more. But are you really sure of that?… Oh, you must be, you certainly wouldn’t want to tell me something untrue. All the same, it’s funny that it’s Danceny I love but it’s Monsieur de Valmont who… But as you say, perhaps it’s a good thing! Anyway, we’ll see.
I didn’t quite understand your remark about my letter writing. It seems to me that Danceny likes my letters very much as they are. But I do realize that I mustn’t say anything to him about what’s happening between me and Monsieur de Valmont, so there’s nothing for you to be afraid of.
Mummy still hasn’t said a single word about my marriage. But I’ll watch out and when she does mention it, as she’s setting a trap for me, I promise you I’ll be able to pretend to her.
Goodbye, dear, kind Madame, and thank you very much indeed, I promise you I’ll never forget all your kindness towards me. I must stop now because it’s nearly one o’clock and Monsieur de Valmont won’t be long now.
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The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil From the Château de —–, 11 October 17—
Heavenly powers! My soul has tasted the pangs of love; teach it to savour its delights!* I think it is the tender-hearted Saint-Preux who voices this wish. I’m better off than he, I’m enjoying both states of mind simultaneously. Yes, dear lady, I am at one and the same time very happy and very unhappy; and since I have complete trust in you, I owe it to you to tell you my double tale of woe and joy.
I have to inform you that my ungrateful and pious judge’s wife has still not relented. At the last count, four of my letters have been returned unopened. Four is perhaps misleading: guessing that once the first one had been rejected, it would be succeeded by lots of others and being unwilling to waste my time in this pursuit, I decided to turn my sad story into the standard rigmarole and leave them undated; so ever since the second one, it’s been the same letter shuttling to and fro. I merely change the envelope. If one day my beloved grows tired of this shuttle service, she’ll keep my epistle and then will be the time for me to bring it up to date. As you can see, with this new style of correspondence, I can hardly expect to make much progress or be any better informed than on the day it started.
I have however discovered that the flighty young body has changed her confidante; at any rate I have ascertained that since she left the château, no letter has come from her to Madame de Volanges whilst there have been two for old Rosemonde and since the latter hasn’t mentioned this to me and is keeping completely mum on the subject of her lovely friend whereas previously she never stopped talking about her, I concluded that this revolution has been brought about on the one hand by the need to talk about me and on the other by the coyness she may feel with Madame de Volanges at reverting to a feeling she has so long disclaimed. I fear that here again I have lost in the exchange: the older women are, the more sour and strict they become. The first one would certainly have said far nastier things about me but Madame de Rosemonde will talk to her more of love and our susceptible puritan is much more scared of the feeling than of the person.
My only means of keeping myself informed, as you will have gathered, is to intercept this clandestine exchange of letters. I’ve already given appropriate instructions to my valet and I’m expecting him to put them into effect any day now. Until then I can only operate at random; so for the last week I’ve been vainly going over every known way, in novels* or in my secret memoirs, without finding anything to fit either the circumstances of this adventure or the character of the heroine. It wouldn’t be difficult to slip into her house, at night indeed, nor even to drug her and turn her into another Clarissa;* but imagine having to resort to methods so foreign to my nature after more than two months of laborious and meticulous effort! To gain a victory without glory by following slavishly in someone else’s tracks! … No, she’s not going to enjoy the pleasures of vice and the honours of virtue* Just possessing her isn’t enough; I want her to surrender willingly. And to do that, it’s not only necessary to get into her house but for her to let me in herself; to find her alone and ready to listen to me; above all to close her eyes to any danger, for if she sees it she’ll be able to overcome it or die in the attempt. But the more clearly I can see what’s required, the more I realize how difficult it is and at the risk of exciting your hilarity once again I confess that the more I think about it, the more complicated it seems.
But for the pleasant diversions provided by our joint ward, I think I’d feel quite lost: if it wasn’t for her, I’d have nothing better to do than write elegiacs.*
Would you believe it, that little girl was so scared that it took three whole days for your letter to take effect? See how one single mistaken idea can warp the most promising disposition!
Anyway, it wasn’t until Saturday that the person concerned sidled up to me and stammered a few words, in such a low voice and so smothered in shame that they were impossible to understand. But the red face accompanying them allowed me to guess their meaning. Till then I’d remained on my high horse but mollified by such an amusing act of contrition, I relented and promised to call on the pretty penitent that very night; this gracious gesture of mine was received with all the gratitude appropriate to such a great act of charity.
As I never lose sight of either your plans or mine, I determined, in addition to speeding up her education, to use my opportunity to discover how gifted the child is. However, in order to have greater freedom to achieve this aim, I needed to change our venue because the small closet separating your ward’s bedroom from her mother’s was hardly calculated to offer her adequate security to display her talents free of any inhibitions. So I’d promised myself to make, quite innocently, some noise that would scare her enough to persuade her to find a safer haven for our activities; she herself spared me the trouble.
She’s a jolly little girl and to keep her amused during the intervals, I took it into my head to tell her about all the scandalous adventures that came into my mind; and to make them more spicy and more likely to hold her attention, I gave the credit for all of them to her Mummy and took delight in painting a highly colourful picture of her vices and absurdities.
I wasn’t doing this just for fun; not only did it arouse my coy young pupil more than anything else but at the same time I was filling her with the deepest contempt for her mother. I’ve long known that if this method may not always be necessary to seduce a girl, it’s the indispensable and often most effective way of depraving her, for a girl without any respect for her mother won’t have any self-respect either: a moral truth which I consider so useful that I was delighted to offer practical proof of the principle.
However, your ward had no concern for moral truths and was stifling her giggles all the time until finally she once nearly burst out laughing. I had no difficulty in persuading her that she’d made a terrible din and pretended to be dreadfully afraid, a feeling she easily came to share. To make sure she didn’t forget, I declined to provide further pleasure and left her three hours earlier than usual, after we’d agreed that in future we would meet in my room.
I’ve al
ready welcomed her there twice and in this short space of time the schoolgirl has become almost as adept as the teacher. Yes, indeed, I’ve taught her everything, even the more engaging forms of collaboration. The only thing I left out was how to take precautions.
Being busy all night allows me to have a good long sleep during the day and as the present company in the château is madly unexciting, I spend barely an hour in the drawing-room all day. Today I even decided to eat in my room and apart from the odd short walk, I intend to stay there. These vagaries are put down to my health: I’ve explained that I’ve been feeling out of sorts and also announced that I have a slight temperature. All I need to do is to speak in a slow, far-away tone of voice. As for any change in my face, you can safely leave that to your ward. Love will provide.*
I spend my spare time wondering how to regain my lost advantage over my ungrateful judge’s wife and also drawing up a sort of catechism of lechery for my pupil’s use. I’m enjoying spelling everything out in strictly technical terms and chuckling as I imagine the fascinating conversation which this will provide for her and Gercourt on their wedding night. There’s nothing funnier than her ingenuous way of using the few words of this sort she already knows! She thinks these are the only expressions. She really is such an attractive little girl! This contrast between her simple innocence and her shameless language manages to produce quite an effect; somehow, I don’t really know why, these days I can only enjoy things that are offbeat.*
I may be indulging too much in this one because I’m making excessive demands on my time and my health;* but I’m hoping that my sham illness, apart from rescuing me from that dreary drawing-room, may also be of some use with my saintly puritan who combines tigerish virtue with a tender heart! I’ve no doubt that she has already been apprised of the great event and I’d very much like to know what she is making of it, the more so as I bet she won’t fail to take credit for it. I shall adjust my state of health to the impression it’s making on her.
So now, fair lady, you are as up to date with my affairs as I am myself. I am longing to have more interesting news for you soon and I ask you to believe me when I say that the major part of the pleasure I’m looking forward to is the reward I’m expecting from you.
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The Comte de Gercourt to Madame de Volanges Bastia,* 10 October 17—
My dear Madame de Volanges, everything now points to peace in this country and we are anticipating leave to return to France any day. I hope that you have no doubt how eagerly I still look forward to doing so and to forging the links that will bind me to you and to Mademoiselle de Volanges. However, my cousin the Duc de ——, to whom, as you are aware, I am under considerable obligation, has just informed me of his recall from Naples. He tells me that he is expecting to pass through Rome and in the course of his journey to visit that part of Italy with which he is still unfamiliar. He has invited me to join him on this excursion, which will last approximately six weeks to two months. I shall not disguise the fact that I should enjoy taking advantage of this opportunity, being fully aware that after my marriage it will be difficult to find time to be away, except as my military duties require. It may thus possibly be more appropriate to wait until the winter to celebrate our nuptials, since all my close relatives, and in particular the Marquis de ——whom I have to thank for giving me the privilege of making your acquaintance, will find it impossible to come together in Paris before then. In spite of these major considerations, my plans in this regard are entirely in your hands and should you for any reason prefer to maintain your earlier arrangements, I shall gladly abandon mine. My only request would be that you may let me know your intentions on this matter as soon as possible. I shall await your reply here and will act only in accordance with your wishes.
I remain, dear Madame de Volanges, with the devotion and respect due from your future son, your humble, etc.
The Comte de Gercourt*
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Madame de Rosemonde to Madame de Tourvel (dictated and unsigned) From the Château de —–, 14 October 17—
My dear young friend, I have only this very instant received your gently reproachful letter of the 11 th.* Admit that you were very tempted to use stronger words and that had you not again recalled that you are now my daughter, you would have given me a proper dressing-down! Yet that would have been very unfair of you. It had been my hope and desire to be able to reply to you myself which led me every day to postpone writing to you and you can see that even now I am obliged to employ the services of my maid. My tiresome rheumatism has again attacked me, this time in my right arm, rendering me completely one-armed. See what comes of a fresh young woman like yourself taking such an antique friend! You suffer from her disabilities.
As soon as I am offered a slight relief from my pain, I am most anxious to have a long chat with you. Till such time, let me merely say that I have received both your letters and that I shall always feel the keenest sympathy for everything that concerns you.
My nephew is also slightly indisposed but it is nothing serious and gives not the slightest cause for alarm, a minor ailment which seems to be affecting his moral rather than his physical well-being. We hardly ever see him.
His absence and your departure do nothing to contribute to the gaiety of our little society. The Volanges girl in particular has a serious bone to pick with you and sits all day long yawning her head off. She is paying us the compliment, especially during the last few days, of regularly dropping off to sleep after dinner.
Goodbye, dear friend. And as always, I am your friend, your mother, and even your sister, if my great age were to allow such a thing. In a word, I am, in every way, yours most affectionately.
Signed: Adelaide, for Madame de Rosemonde.
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The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont Paris, 15 October 17—
I think you should know, Vicomte, that people here in Paris are beginning to talk about you; your absence is being remarked on and there’s already surmise as to the cause. Yesterday, at a very large supper party, it was stated as a positive fact that you were detained in some village by a romantic and unsuccessful loveaffair; immediately the faces of all the men envious of your reputation and of all the women you’ve been neglecting lit up with joy. If you take my advice, you’ll not let these dangerous rumours gain currency and you’ll return straight away to give them the lie by showing yourself.
Bear in mind that once you’ve allowed the suspicion to take root that you’re not irresistible, you’ll soon discover that women actually will find you easier to resist; that your rivals will lose their respect and will be encouraged to compete with you, for which of them doesn’t think he’s more than a match for any woman, however virtuous? Above all, don’t forget that amongst all the women you’ve flaunted in public, all those you haven’t had will attempt to reveal the truth while the others will try and hide it. In a word, you’ll see yourself as much underestimated as you were previously overestimated.
So, do come back, Vicomte, and don’t sacrifice your reputation to a childish passing fancy. You’ve accomplished all we wanted you to do with the Volanges girl and as far as your judge’s wife is concerned, you’re hardly likely to be indulging your fancy for her at a range of thirty miles or so. Do you imagine she’ll be coming to look for you? Maybe she’s stopped thinking of you altogether or remembering you only while she rubs her hands at having humiliated you. Here at least you’ll have an opportunity of making a triumphant return—and that’s what you need … And even if you persist in your absurd adventure, I can’t see how your return could adversely affect it, quite the opposite.
In fact, if your judge’s wife adores you, as you keep on telling me so often, without providing much evidence, her only joy and comfort must be to talk about you, to know what you’re thinking and even the slightest particulars of the things that interest you. Such trivial details become progressively more precious the more you’re deprived of them; they’re the crumbs from the rich man’s table,
which he despises and the poor man greedily picks up and feeds on. Well, at the moment Madame de Tourvel is gathering all those crumbs and the more she can find, the less of a hurry she’ll be in to tackle the main course.
Moreover, since you know her confidante, you can be sure each letter contains at least one short homily and everything she thinks likely to confirm her good sense and strengthen her virtue.* So why provide the means for one of them to defend herself and for the other one to do you harm?
Not that I share in the least your impression that you’ve suffered a setback through her change of confidante. In the first place, Madame de Volanges hates you and hatred is always more ingenious and clear-sighted than friendship. All your old aunt’s virtue will never for a moment induce her to speak ill of her dear nephew because virtue, too, has its shortcomings. What’s more, your fears rest on a completely misguided premiss.
It’s just not true that the older women are the more sour and strict they become. Between the ages of forty and fifty, despair at seeing their faces going wrinkled, anger at being obliged to give up pleasures and privileges which they still expect to enjoy, make almost all women shrewish and prudish. They need this long period to come fully to terms with this great sacrifice but once it’s complete, they all fall into two categories.
The major one comprises women who’ve had only their faces and their youth in their favour: they fall into a mindless apathy from which they can be roused only by certain devout practices and card-games; they are always dull, they frequently nag, sometimes they’re mildly busybodyish but they’re rarely malicious. Nor can it be said that such women are or are not strict: being spineless and empty-headed, they just repeat, indiscriminately and without understanding, anything they hear and will never be anything but utter nonentities.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 33