You’ll see from the enclosed copies of two letters* which go-between I’d chosen to restore relations with my beloved and with what zeal the holy father set about achieving our reunification. You also need to know something which I’d gleaned from a letter intercepted in the usual way: namely, that the fear and the minor mortification of being abandoned had somewhat upset the pious young woman’s prudishness* and filled her heart and head with feelings and thoughts which, however nonsensical, were still quite intriguing. It was after making these vital preparations that yesterday, Thursday, the 28th, the day already suggested by the ungrateful wench, I presented myself as a timid and penitent slave at the house which I was to leave crowned in the laurels of victory.
It was six o’clock when I arrived at the residence of the lovely recluse—since her return her door had remained closed to everybody. When I was shown in, she made an effort to stand up but her knees were trembling too much for her to remain on her feet and she immediately sat down again. The servant who had shown me in stayed to do a few things in the room and while we exchanged the normal civilities, Madame de Tourvel showed signs of impatience. However, not wishing to waste time when every second counted, I was carefully reconnoitring the terrain and straight away selected the field for a successful operation. I could have chosen a more comfortable one because she even had an ottoman in her room; but I noticed that there was a portrait of her husband hanging opposite and I admit that with such an odd woman a single glance in that direction might destroy in a second the result of all my labours. Finally, the servant left and I launched on my preamble.
After a few words explaining that Father Anselme must have informed her of the reasons for my visit, I protested at the harsh way I had been treated, with particular emphasis on the contempt I’d been shown. As I expected, this statement was contested and as you certainly also expect, I justified it by pointing out the suspicion and fear I had inspired; her scandalous ensuing flight; her refusal to answer any of my letters or even to receive them, etc. etc.* As the lady now started to exonerate herself—which was all too easy—I felt it incumbent on me to interrupt and in order to excuse my brusqueness, I immediately glossed it over with flattery. ‘Such irresistible charm had made a deep impression on my heart but your virtue had made an equally strong impression on my soul. No doubt carried away by my longing to draw nearer to such a paragon, I was foolhardy enough to imagine that I deserved such a privilege. I do not blame you for thinking otherwise but I am punishing myself for my mistake.’ As my little piece was followed by an embarrassed silence, I went on: ‘Madame de Tourvel, I wanted either to justify myself in your eyes or else receive your pardon for the wrongs you think I’ve committed, so that I might at least end my days in some sort of peace, since now that you have refused to enrich them, they no longer have any value for me.’
At this point, however, an attempt was made to reply: ‘But my duty wouldn’t allow me …’ The difficulty of completing the lie that duty required prevented her from finishing the sentence, so I started again in my most loving voice: ‘So it’s true that I was the person you were escaping from?’ ‘It was necessary to leave.’ ‘And that now you’re going away and leaving me?’ ‘There’s no other course.’ ‘And for ever?’ ‘I must.’ I don’t need to tell you that during this brief exchange the tender-hearted prude was speaking in a strained voice and not daring to look up. Things were hanging fire and I decided to liven them up. With an offended look I sprang to my feet and said: ‘You’re very determined but two can play at that game. Very well, Madame, we’ll each go our own way and we’ll be even further apart than you think. And you will have all the time in the world to feel proud of what you’ve achieved.’ Somewhat taken aback by my accusatory tone, she tried to reply: ‘The decision you’ve taken …’ she began. ‘Was taken through sheer despair,’ I retorted heatedly. ‘You wanted me to be unhappy and I’ll prove to you that you’ve succeeded beyond your wildest hopes.’ ‘I want you to be happy,’ she replied, in a voice that was beginning to be quite emotional. Thereupon I flung myself at her knees and exclaimed, in that theatrical voice you know so well: ‘Oh, how cruel you are! As if there can be any happiness for me if you don’t share it! Never! Never!’ I confess that having let myself go so energetically, I was relying heavily on tears to help me out but either because I wasn’t in the mood or else because my excessive concentration was proving a strain, my tear-ducts failed to respond.
Luckily once again I recalled that to bring a woman to heel anything goes, and that to create a deep and favourable impression I needed only to do something striking to dumbfound her. Since sentiment was not available, I decided to resort to terror and without changing my position but merely my tone of voice, I continued: ‘Yes, here at your feet, I swear that I shall either possess you or die!’ As I spoke these last words, our eyes crossed; I don’t know what the frightened woman saw or thought she saw in mine but she stood up with a scared look and slipped out of my arms which I had placed round her. It’s true that I made no attempt to hold her back because I’d frequently noticed that scenes of despair, when they are too intense and protracted, can become ridiculous or capable of being resolved only by tragic means, which I was very far from wishing to resort to. All the same, as she was slipping out of my arms, I muttered in a sinister voice, but loud enough for her to hear: ‘Ah, then the answer is death!’*
Then I rose to my feet and stood there silent for a second, casting fierce glances at her, seemingly at random, but although they looked wild, I was observing her closely and carefully. Her body was swaying, her breath coming in gasps, her muscles contracted, her trembling arms half-raised: everything told me well enough that I’d achieved the desired effect; but since in love nothing can be brought to a conclusion except at close quarters and we were quite far apart, it was first necessary to get nearer to each other. To achieve this as quickly as possible, I adopted an attitude of apparent calm likely to allay the effect of my violent outburst but without weakening the impression it had created.
This was my transition: ‘I’m very unhappy. I had been intending to devote my life to making you happy and I’ve made you miserable. I want to give you peace of mind and I am destroying that as well.’ Then, as if struggling to remain calm: ‘You must forgive me, Madame, I’m not used to the storms and stresses of passion and I am finding it difficult not to be swept away by them. If I was wrong to give way to them, please remember that it was for the last time. Oh, please compose yourself, be calm, I beg you.’ In the course of this lengthy pronouncement, I kept stealthily approaching her. ‘If you want me to be calm,’ replied my frightened beauty, ‘you must please calm down yourself.’ ‘Very well, then, I promise,’ I said, adding in a weaker voice: ‘It will be a great effort but it won’t be for long.’ Then I went on, with a frantic look: ‘But wasn’t my real purpose in coming to give you back your letters? For pity’s sake, please, please take them back. It’s one more sacrifice that I still have to make. Don’t leave me with anything which may weaken my determination.’ And pulling the precious bundle out of my pocket, I said: ‘Here they are! Here are the false promises of friendship you placed in my keeping. They gave me something to live for. Take them back and that will be your signal that I must part from you for ever.’
At this the timorous lover gave way completely to her tenderness and anxiety: ‘But what is the matter with you, Monsieur de Valmont? What do you mean? Are you not doing this now of your own free will? Isn’t it the result of having thought things over which has led you to take this necessary decision, one I have taken myself out of a sense of duty?’ ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘it was your decision that led to mine!’ ‘And what is your decision?’ ‘The only one possible for me, to put an end to my suffering now that I have to part from you.’ ‘But you must answer my question: what have you decided?’ Thereupon I clasped her in my arms while she offered not the slightest resistance. Realizing how overpowering her emotion must be to lead her so to forget her sense of propriety, I said: �
�Oh, how adorable you are!’ (I thought it worth while to risk a little enthusiasm) ‘you have no idea of the love you have inspired, you never realized how I worshipped you and how much stronger that love was than my love of life! May peace and happiness go with you for the rest of your days! And may they be enriched by all the happiness you have stolen from me! Won’t you at least reward this sincere wish of mine with a tear or a regret? And you may be sure that this last sacrifice of mine will not be the one my heart finds most painful. Farewell!’
As I said this, I could feel her heart pounding, I noticed her contorted features, and I could see that her tears, though flowing slowly and painfully, were choking her. It was only now that I made a pretence of moving away from her but she clung hard on to me and said abruptly: ‘No, listen to me!’ ‘Let me go!’ I retorted. ‘I insist that you listen to me!’ ‘I’ve got to leave you, I must!’ ‘No!’ she cried. As she said this, she flung herself or rather collapsed fainting in my arms. Being still not quite sure of a successful outcome, I pretended to be greatly alarmed; but in the course of my alarm, I steered her or rather carried her over to the place I’d earlier selected as the field of my triumph;* and in fact when she came to, her capitulation was complete: she had already succumbed to her gratified conqueror.
Till now, fair lady, you will have recognized and appreciated the classic purity of my methods and seen how scrupulously I adhere to the essential principles of this sort of warfare which, as we’ve often acknowledged, is extremely similar to the real thing. So look upon me as a Turenne or a Frederick.* I’d forced an enemy who was using delaying tactics to join battle; by clever manœuvring, I had chosen the ground and the battle order; I had lulled the enemy into a sense of security so as to penetrate more easily into her defences; before launching my attack, security had been replaced by terror; I had left nothing to chance since, while aware that success would bring me indubitable advantages, if repulsed I had other resources ready; and finally, I went into action knowing that my retreat was covered and I would lose none of my earlier gains. I don’t think anyone can do better than that; but now I’m afraid that like Hannibal surrounded by the luxuries of Capua,* I have grown effete. This is what happened.
I was of course prepared for the despair and tears normally attending such major events; and the first thing I noticed was slightly increased confusion and a sort of inner withdrawal, which I attributed to a prudish nature, and so without paying further attention to these variations which I imagined to be purely local, I simply pursued my course along the main avenue of consolation, convinced that, as usual, the senses would come to the help of sentiments and that a single action would speak louder than any words, although I didn’t neglect those either. But I met a resistance truly terrifying, not so much for its extravagance as for the form it took.
Picture to yourself a woman sitting rigidly still, with set, frozen features, apparently neither thinking, listening, nor hearing anything, from whose wide, staring eyes tears were pouring almost without pause and without effort. This was how Madame de Tourvel looked while I was speaking to her; but each time I endeavoured to attract her attention by a caress, by even the most innocent gesture, this apparent apathy was immediately replaced by a look of terror, gasps, convulsions, sobs, and occasionally by completely inarticulate cries.
These spasms recurred a number of times, each time more violently; the last one was even so violent that I completely lost heart and for a moment I feared I’d achieved a hollow victory. I fell back on the usual platitudes, one of which happened to be this one: ‘And so you’re in despair because you’ve made me a happy man?’ At these words, the adorable woman turned towards me and though still looking haggard, her face had already recovered its heavenly expression. ‘Happy?’ she said. You can guess my reply. ‘So I’ve made you happy?’ I repeated my assurances. ‘And happy through me?’ I provided the additional compliments and words of love. While I was talking, her whole body relaxed and she sank gently back into her armchair, even letting me take her hand. She murmured: ‘I feel relieved and comforted by that thought.’
You’ll understand that once launched on that course, I took good care not to leave it: it was certainly the correct and perhaps even the only one. Indeed, when I tried to repeat my first successful attempt, I met with some initial resistance and my previous experience was making me wary. But when I again appealed to that same idea of my happiness to help me, I soon felt the beneficial effects. ‘You are right,’ said the tender-hearted woman; ‘I can bear to go on living now only as long as it serves to make you happy; from now on I shall devote myself entirely to that, I shall give myself to you and you will never hear any regrets or meet any refusal from me again.’ And so, with an innocence which was either naïve or sublime, she abandoned herself to me in all her beauty, sharing my pleasure until it ended in simultaneous ecstasy. And for the first time, mine outlasted my pleasure. I left her arms only to fall at her feet and swear eternal love.* I don’t wish to hide anything: I meant what I said. Indeed, even after we’d parted, I kept thinking of her and had to make a great effort to put her out of my mind.
Ah, why aren’t you here to match my glorious action by an at least equivalent reward? But I shan’t lose anything by waiting, shall I? And I hope that I can assume your agreement with the happy arrangement which I suggested to you in my last letter. As you see, I’m fulfilling my obligations and, as I promised, I shall be sufficiently far advanced in my business to be able to give you part of my time. So do hurry up, send the ponderous Belleroche packing and leave the soppy Danceny, so that you can devote yourself entirely to me. What on earth are you up to down there in the country, not even answering my letters? Do you know that I’ve a good mind to give you a thorough telling-off! But happiness makes us forbearing. And in any case I’m not forgetting that by rejoining the ranks of your admirers I have once again to submit to your little vagaries. But do remember that the new lover doesn’t want to lose any of his long-standing rights as a friend.
Goodbye, as in the good old days. Yes, goodbye, my angel! With all my loving kisses!*
PS Do you know that at the end of his month in gaol, Prévan has been forced to resign from his regiment? It’s the talk of the town today. He really has been cruelly punished for a wrong he didn’t commit! Your triumph is complete!*
126
Madame de Rosemonde to Madame de Tourvel From the Château de —–, 30 October 17—
I should have answered you earlier, dear girl, if writing my last letter hadn’t brought on my aches and pains and denied me the use of my arm these last few days. I was anxious to thank you for the good news you gave me of my nephew and not less so to offer you my sincere congratulations on your own behalf. In this matter we are truly forced to recognize the hand of Providence which by blessing one of you has also offered salvation to the other. Yes, dear child, He who wished merely to put you to the test has lent His aid at the moment when your strength was exhausted and, despite your slight misgivings, you owe him, I think, some measure of thanksgiving. Not that I fail to recognize that it would have been more agreeable for you to have made this decision first and for Valmont’s to have followed as a result. Humanly speaking, it seems that the claims of our sex would have benefited thereby and we don’t wish to forgo any of those! But what are these minor considerations compared to the important objects that have been achieved? Does someone rescued from shipwreck ever complain about not having been consulted as to the way he was saved?
You’ll soon find, my dear daughter, that the sufferings you dread will start to cure themselves and even should they continue to persist in all their virulence, you’ll still feel that they would be easier to bear than self-contempt and remorse for your crime. To have addressed you in this seemingly harsh tone earlier would have been pointless: love is an independent spirit; being cautious may help us to avoid it but can never enable us to overcome it; once it’s born, it can only die of natural causes or complete hopelessness. The latter is what has happened to yo
u and gives me the chance and the courage to give you my honest opinion. It’s cruel to scare people who are mortally ill; they need soothing and comforting; but it’s sensible to inform a convalescent of the risks he’s been running in order to make him understand how wary he must be and of his need to accept advice which may still prove necessary.
Since you’ve appointed me your doctor, I’m talking to you like one and I can assure you that the minor pains you’re suffering at the moment are nothing compared to the dire disease you’ve just recovered from. And speaking now as a friend, the friend of a sensible, virtuous woman, I shall take the liberty of adding that this passion which you’ve overcome, however unfortunate in itself, was becoming even more so because of its object. If I am to believe what I am told, my nephew, whom I admit to loving—perhaps to the point of weakness—and who has indeed a great number of admirable as well as many charming qualities, is neither harmless nor blameless in his relations with women; he’s almost equally interested in seducing and in ruining them. I feel sure that you would have reformed him;* there was certainly never anyone more qualified to undertake that task; but so many women who have nursed that fond hope have been disappointed that I am far happier for your sake that you’ve not been reduced to that resort.
But now, dear friend, you must reflect that instead of all the dangers you were incurring, you will enjoy not only a clear conscience and peace of mind but the gratifying feeling of having been the main agent of Valmont’s contrition. As for me, I have no doubt that this is in large measure the result of your courageous resistance and that a moment of weakness on your part might have left my nephew in an eternal state of profligacy. For me this is a happy thought and I hope you will share it, for it will provide you with your initial consolation and I shall cling to it as a reason for loving you even more.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 37