Les Liaisons Dangereuses

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Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 44

by Pierre Choderlos De Laclos


  Now I shall go back to my sad task as nurse which is becoming all the sadder as I can see little hope of a successful outcome. Goodbye, dear friend: I do not need to tell you again of my feelings for you.

  155

  The Vicomte de Valmont to the Chevalier Danceny Paris, 5 December 17—

  My dear Chevalier, I’ve twice called on you but ever since you have abandoned your role of swain for that of philanderer you have been, quite rightly, impossible to find. However, your valet assures me that you will be returning home this evening and that you have instructed him to expect you. Knowing your plans, I realized perfectly well that you would be staying only long enough to dress for your part before gallivanting off on your victorious adventures without delay. Well done! I can only applaud you! But tonight, perhaps, you may be tempted to alter your venue: you only know half of your options and I must acquaint you with the other half, when it will be up to you to make up your mind. So please spare a moment to read this letter, Chevalier. It won’t be diverting you from your pleasures; on the contrary, its sole purpose is to provide you with a choice.

  If I had been completely in your confidence and you had told me about that part of your secret life which I could only guess at, I should have known in good time, been less clumsy in my wellmeaning efforts to help you, and not be interfering in your plans now. But let’s start from where we stand at the moment. What-ever you may decide, even your second-best choice would make someone happy.

  You’ve got a rendezvous with a woman tonight, haven’t you? And a delightful woman, too, whom you adore? At your age what woman do we not adore, at least for the first week! The scene of the encounter must also enhance your pleasure: a ravishing little house, taken especially for you, will add the charms of mystery to the exquisite delights of love, no holds barred. It’s all laid on, you’re expected and you’re raring to go! This is something we both know although you omitted to say anything about it to me. But now here’s something you don’t know and which I have to tell you.

  Ever since I came back I’ve been devoting my time and energy to finding ways and means of bringing you and Mademoiselle de Volanges together, as I had promised, and even when I last spoke to you on this subject I had reason to think from your reaction—I’m tempted to say your rapturous delight—that I was actively promoting your happiness. I was unable to complete this rather difficult task on my own but having prepared the ground, I left the rest to the enthusiasm of your mistress. Her love enabled her to find solutions that my experience had overlooked; and the unfortunate thing for you is that she has succeeded. For the last two days, so she informed me this evening, every obstacle has been removed and your happiness is now entirely in your own hands.

  For the last two days also she has been longing and hoping to tell you all this in person and even though her mother is not there, you would have been admitted to the house. But you didn’t even call! And since I wish to hide nothing from you, the young lady, rightly or wrongly, seemed to me a trifle put out by your lukewarmness. Anyway, she found a way for me to meet her too and made me promise to let you have the enclosed letter as quickly as possible. From the urgency she displayed, my bet would be that there’s some question of a rendezvous for tonight. However that may be, I promised on my honour as a friend that you should receive this loving epistle this very day and I cannot and do not wish to break my word.

  And now, young man, what are you going to do? What’s your choice between a flirtation and love, pleasure and happiness? If I were talking to Danceny three months or even a week ago, I’d have had no doubt where his heart lay and what he would do; but today Danceny is in such demand by women, flitting from one adventure to the next and, as would be expected, becoming something of a rogue. So will he prefer a timid young girl whose only assets are her innocence, her beauty, and her love to the attractions of a woman of infinite sophistication?

  For my part, my dear friend, it seems to me that even according to your new principles, which I admit I rather share, in these circumstances I’d be inclined to opt for the young lover. First, it’s another name to add to your list: a brand-new woman. And if you don’t cull her now there’s the danger of losing the fruit of your efforts, for after all, in her case, it really would be missing a golden opportunity and they don’t always turn up twice, particularly when it’s a first lapse. In cases like that it often needs only a moment of irritation, a touch of jealous suspicion or even less, to thwart the most brilliant victory. When it’s sinking, virtue often clutches at straws and once it’s been salvaged, it remains on its guard and is never so easy to take unawares again.*

  And in any case, what do you risk from the other side? Not even being shown the door, at worst a tiff which, with a little care and attention, can be patched up, very pleasurably. What other choice is open to a woman when she has already surrendered, except to forgive? What would she gain by turning nasty? She’d forfeit her pleasures and do nothing for her prestige.

  If, as I assume, you go for love, which also seems to me the reasonable thing, I think you’d be well advised not to send any apologies in advance for having to miss your rendezvous: simply fail to turn up. If you tempt fate by giving some reason, the party may try to discover whether it’s true. Women are nosy and persistent; anything is liable to come out—as you know, I’ve just provided a good example of that! But if you leave her in hopes, which will be buoyed up by vanity, she will continue to hope until it’s far too late for her to find out what has happened and this will give you time until tomorrow to decide what insurmountable obstacle stood in your way: whether you were ill—dead if need be—or anything else which has reduced you to despair. And all will be forgiven!

  Incidentally, whichever way you decide, I’ll ask you just to let me know and as I’m completely indifferent in the matter, I shall always approve any choice you may make.

  Goodbye, dear friend, and good luck.

  Let me finally add how badly I miss Madame de Tourvel; the truth is that being parted from her has left me in despair. I would happily give up half my life to be able to dedicate the other half to her. Ah, believe me, love is the only thing that can bring happiness!

  156

  Cécile Volanges to the Chevalier Danceny (enclosed with letter 155) Paris, 4 December 17—

  Dear friend, how is it that I’ve stopped seeing you recently, even though I’ve never stopped wanting to? Don’t you still long to see me as much as I do? Ah, that makes me really sad! Even sadder than when we weren’t able to meet at all … It used to be other people who made me miserable but now it’s you and that hurts me much more.

  For the last few days, Mummy has been out all the time, as you know, and I’d been hoping that you would try to take advantage of this opportunity. But you don’t even think of me; oh, I’m so miserable! You used to keep on telling me that I was the one who didn’t love you as much as you loved me but I knew it was the other way round and I’ve been proved right. If you had called to see me, you would in fact have been able to because I’m not like you, I think of nothing else but ways for us to come together. You don’t deserve for me to tell you all the arrangements I’ve been making and which have given me a lot of trouble. But I’m too much in love with you and I’m longing to see you so much that I can’t help telling you. And then afterwards I’ll be able to see whether you really do love me!

  I’ve even managed to get the porter on our side and he’s promised that any time you come, he’ll let you through as if he hadn’t seen you; and we can certainly rely on him because he’s a very nice man. So we just need to be careful that you are not seen in the house and that’s very easy if you come only at night-time and then there’ll be no danger at all. For instance, ever since Mummy’s been away all day, she goes to bed at eleven every night. So we’d have lots of time.

  The porter told me that any time you might be coming like that not to knock on the door but to tap on his window and then you’ll have no difficulty in finding the back stairs. And as you may not have a
light I’ll leave the door of my bedroom a little bit open and that will help you to find the way at least. Be careful not to make any noise, especially as you go by Mummy’s sidedoor. As for my maid’s room, you don’t need to worry because she’s promised not to wake up; she’s very nice, too. And it’ll be the same when you leave. So now we’ll see if you’re going to come.

  My goodness, I wonder why my heart is beating so fast while I’m writing to you? Is something dreadful going to happen to me or is it the hope of seeing you that’s making me so excited? One thing I do know I’m feeling is that I’ve never loved you so much and never felt such a longing to tell you that I do. So do come, my love, my dear love, so that I can tell you over and over again how much I love you, that I adore you and shall never love anybody else, ever.

  I’ve managed to let Monsieur de Valmont know that there’s something I’d like to tell him and as he’s such a nice kind friend he’ll certainly come tomorrow and I’ll ask him to let you have my letter straight away. So I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow night and if you don’t want your Cécile to be really and truly miserable, you won’t let me down.

  Goodbye, my dear. I hug you and love you from the bottom of my heart.

  157

  The Chevalier Danceny to the Vicomte de Valmont Paris, 5 December 17—

  You need have no misgivings, my dear Vicomte, concerning either my heart or my actions. How could I fail to respond to any desire of my Cécile’s? Ah, she is indeed the woman, the only woman I love and always shall love! Her simple innocence, her tender devotion have cast a spell that, in my weakness, I may have allowed myself to forget but which will always remain anchored in my heart. When I launched out on another adventure, almost as it were without noticing, even in my moments of greatest pleasure, the thought of Cécile often loomed up to disturb me and perhaps my heart never paid her a more sincere tribute than when I was being unfaithful to her. However, dear friend, we must spare her feelings and never reveal the wrong I’ve done her, not in order to mislead her but so as not to distress her. I have such a longing to make her happy and I should never forgive myself if she even once had to shed a single tear through any fault of mine.

  I realize that I deserve your teasing when you pointed to what you called my principles; but believe me, I’m not letting them govern my conduct at the moment and I’ve decided to prove it by tomorrow at the latest. I shall call on the lady herself who has caused and participated in my dissolute conduct and I shall accuse myself: ‘Look into my heart,’ I shall say, ‘and you will see there the great affection and friendship I feel for you; and when friendship is combined with desire, it seems so similar to love! We were both deceived. But although I may make mistakes, I’m never insincere.’ I know my friend: she is as forgiving as she is straightforward; not only will she forgive me, she will approve of what I’ve done. She even frequently used to blame herself for having been untrue to the demands of friendship; her scruples often caused her distress in her love. She is wiser than me, she will reinforce those proper fears which I felt in my own heart and which I so unwisely tried to stifle in hers. Through her I shall become a better man and through you, a happier one. O my two good friends, you must share in the gratitude I owe you both! And the thought of owing my happiness to you makes me value it all the more.

  Goodbye, my dear Vicomte. However much I rejoice, I’m not unmindful of your own troubles and I sympathize with them. Oh, why can’t I help you! Is Madame de Tourvel as hard-hearted as ever? People are also saying that she is very ill. Heavens, how sorry I am for you! We must hope that as her health improves, so will her compassion and that she will make you happy for ever! I am sending you these wishes as your good friend and I dare hope that love will find a way.

  I should like to continue our talk, but time is pressing and my Cécile will be already waiting for me …

  158

  The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil (on waking) Paris, 6 December 17—

  Well, Marquise, how do you feel after last night’s revels? A trifle tired, maybe? You must admit that Danceny is a real charmer! He’s a phenomenon, that lad! You didn’t expect that from him, did you? Look, I must admit defeat: a rival of that calibre certainly deserved to oust me. But speaking seriously, he’s got all sorts of good qualities. What constancy! What delicacy! What love! Ah, if he ever comes to love you as much as he loves his Cécile, you’ll never need to fear any rivals: he proved that last night. Perhaps some flirt might snatch him from you, momentarily: a young man finds it hard to resist exciting and provocative offers; but don’t worry, one single word from the real object of his affections is enough to dispel his illusions, as you can see. So all you need do now is to become such an object and you will be perfectly happy.*

  I’m sure there’s no chance of your going wrong there; you’ve got too sure a touch for there to be any fear of that! But our close friendship, as sincere on my part as it is well recognized on yours, induced me to offer you last night’s little trial. It sprang from my eagerness to please. And it succeeded; but don’t bother to thank me, it’s not worth it. It was as easy as falling off a log.

  In fact, what effort did it involve? A minimal sacrifice and a little skill. I agreed to share his mistress’s favours with the young man, but after all, he had as good a claim on them as I did and I could hardly have cared less! The young woman’s letter to him was certainly my handiwork but that was purely to save time because we had better ways of spending it. My covering letter? Well, it was really nothing, nothing much at all: a few friendly tips to put the new lover on the right track. But the truth is that they were hardly necessary; to put it bluntly, he jumped at the chance.

  And now this ingenuous young fellow is going to call on you today and tell you all. And what he has to say is sure to please you greatly. He’ll be saying: Look into my heart—he’s already announced that to me himself; and you’ll surely understand that this means: all can be forgiven. And I do hope that, while looking into this heart of his to see everything he’d like you to find there, you may perchance also discover that such very young lovers do have their dangers; and also that it’s better to have me as a friend than as an enemy.

  Goodbye, Marquise. Till our next opportunity …

  159

  The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont (a note) Paris, 6 December 17—

  Shabby behaviour followed by a shabby joke leaves me cold. It’s not to my taste and it’s not my style. When I have a grudge against someone, I don’t try to be funny. I do better: I hit back. No doubt you’re frightfully pleased with yourself at the moment; but don’t forget it wouldn’t be the first time you started celebrating a victory that misfired. Goodbye.

  160

  Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 6 December 17—

  I am writing to you from our unhappy friend’s bedroom; her condition remains more or less stationary. There is to be a consultation between four doctors this afternoon. Unfortunately, as you know, this often betokens danger rather than any hope of a cure.

  However, it seems that her head was a trifle clearer last night. The maid informed me this morning that about midnight her mistress called for her, asked to be left alone with her, and then dictated quite a long letter. Julie added that while she was preparing to write the address on the envelope, Madame de Tourvel’s mind again started to wander so that the girl didn’t know what address to put. At first I felt surprised that the contents did not provide sufficient indication but when she replied that she was afraid of making a mistake but that her mistress had urged her to send the letter off without delay, I took it on myself to open the envelope.

  In it were the sheets I am enclosing; they are indeed not addressed to anyone but at the same time addressed to far too many people. I would, however, be inclined to think that our unhappy friend started by wanting to write to Monsieur de Valmont but without realizing it, fell victim to her disordered mind. However that may be, I took the view that this letter should not be deliver
ed to anyone. I am sending it to you because you will be able to see what sorts of ideas were running through the sick woman’s head better than I could explain to you. As long as she remains so deeply disturbed, I feel there is little hope. When the mind is so unsettled, the body will find it difficult to recover.

  Farewell, my dear, kind friend. You are indeed fortunate to be so far away from this sad spectacle which I have constantly under my eyes.

  161

  Madame de Tourvel to—– (dictated to and written down by her maid) Paris, 5 December 17—

  Will you never grow tired of persecuting me, you fiend, you devilish creature? Are you not satisfied at having tormented me, debased me, defiled me? Do you wish to rob me of peace even in the grave? In this dark underground world into which I have been driven so ignominiously, is there not a ray of hope? Is my torment never to end? I am not begging for forgiveness, I do not deserve it, I am asking only for my sufferings not to go beyond my endurance. I shall suffer in silence, without complaint, but do not make my sufferings too great to bear. You can leave me with my pain but help me to forget the precious joys I have lost. Now you have torn them away from me, why continue to torment me by conjuring them up in my mind? I was innocent, at peace with the world; it was meeting you which destroyed me; through listening to you I have become a criminal. You made me do wrong, what right do you have to punish me?

 

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