Where are my friends who loved me so dearly, where are they? They are appalled at my misfortune, not one of them dares approach me. I am crushed, yet they leave me helpless! I am dying and there is no one shedding tears over my plight. I am denied any consolation. The criminal plunges into the abyss and pity halts at the brink! He is torn by remorse and his cries remain unheard!
And you whom I have so grievously wronged and whose esteem only makes my anguish greater, you who indeed are the only person who has the right to seek revenge, what are you doing so far away from me? Come to me and punish a faithless wife. Let me finally pay the dire penalty which I deserve. If I had not lacked the courage to inform you of the shame I have brought down on your head I would have already submitted to your vengeance. It was not because I wished to hide it from you, it was because of my respect for you. May this letter at least tell you that I am repentant. Heaven has taken up your cause and avenged you for the wrong of which you never knew. It was God who tied my tongue and stifled my words, fearing that you might forgive a fault that was to be punished by Him. He placed me beyond the reach of your forgiveness, for it would have offended His sense of justice.
But His vengeance is pitiless. He has delivered me into the hands of the man who has ruined me. I am being made to suffer both for him and by him. I keep trying to escape from him but it is useless, he is pursuing me, he is always there, always obsessing me. But how different he seems now from himself. His eyes are full only of hatred and contempt. His lips utter only abuse and reproaches. He takes me into his arms only to tear me to pieces. Who will rescue me from his barbaric fury?
But who is that? Oh, there he is, no, it’s no mistake, he’s here again, I can see him! O gentle friend, take me into your arms, hide me in your breast! Yes, it’s you, it is really you! What fatal illusion was it that made me not recognize you? Ah, how I have suffered while you’ve been away! We must never part again, never! I can breathe once more. Feel how my heart is pounding! And it’s not from fear now, it’s from the sweet emotion of love! Why are you spurning my tenderness, my caresses? Let me see the gentle light of love in your eyes! What are these bonds which you are trying to break? For whom are you preparing that funeral pomp and ceremony? What can have caused that changed look on your face? What are you doing? Leave me alone! I’m trembling. Dear God, it is that fiend again!
Dear ladies, my friends, don’t desert me. You were urging me to flee from him, help me to fight him; and you who were more forbearing and promised to relieve my suffering, come to my side. Where are you both? If I am no longer allowed to see you, at least answer this letter so that I may know that you still love me.
Leave me alone, you cruel monster! What new fury has possessed you? Are you afraid that my heart will be filled by gentle feelings of love? You are making my torments more and more unbearable and forcing me to hate you. Oh, hatred brings such pain, it corrodes the heart that secretes it! Why do you persecute me? What can you still have to say to me now? Haven’t you already made it impossible to listen or reply to you? Do not expect anything more from me. Farewell, Monsieur.
162
The Chevalier Danceny to the Vicomte de Valmont Paris, 6 December 17—
I have become aware, Monsieur de Valmont, of your conduct towards me. I also know that, not content with having so odiously tricked me, you have not scrupled to brag about it and congratulate yourself on your behaviour. I have proof of your double-dealing written in your own hand. I confess to being devastated and even rather ashamed at having myself contributed so considerably to the disgraceful abuse which you have made of my blind trust. However, I do not envy you the despicable advantage you have gained over me; I am merely curious to see whether you can maintain it indefinitely. This I look forward to discovering when, as I hope, you are good enough to be at the gate of the Bois de Vincennes in the village of Saint-Mandé tomorrow morning between eight and nine o’clock. I shall ensure that everything necessary to clear up all the matters outstanding between us is available.
Chevalier Danceny
163
Monsieur Bertrand to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 7 December 17—
Dear Madame de Rosemonde, it is with the deepest regret that I perform my sad duty of apprising you of an event that will grievously distress you, and I hope I may take the liberty of reminding you of your pious submission to God’s will which we have so frequently admired and which is the only means given to us to bear the ills that beset us throughout the course of our wretched lives.
Your nephew—dear God, why does it have to be me who must cause such grief to so respected a lady!—your nephew has suffered the misfortune to receive fatal injuries in a duel with Monsieur le Chevalier Danceny this morning.* I know nothing of the subject of their disagreement but from a letter which I later found in Monsieur le Vicomte’s pocket and which I am enclosing herewith, it seems that he was not the aggressor; yet it was to be he whom Heaven saw fit to allow to perish.
I was waiting to see Monsieur le Vicomte at his house at the very time when he was brought back. You can imagine my great dismay on seeing your nephew carried in by two of his servants, bathed in his own blood. He had received two sword thrusts in the body and was already very weak. Monsieur Danceny was there and he was even in tears. Ah, indeed, well may he weep, but it is too late to shed tears when you have already caused an irreparable calamity.
As for me, I was beside myself and despite my humble position remonstrated with him over his conduct. But it was now that Monsieur le Vicomte showed his real greatness of heart: he ordered me to be quiet and taking the hand of his murderer, called him his friend, embraced him in front of us all, and said: ‘I order you all to show the Chevalier Danceny all the respect due to a fine and gallant gentleman.’ He also, in our presence, had a large bundle of letters handed over to him; I do not know what they are but I do know that he attached considerable importance to them. After that, he asked to be left alone with him for a moment. Meanwhile I had immediately sent for help, both spiritual and temporal but, alas, his injuries were beyond mortal aid. Less than half an hour later the Vicomte lost consciousness and barely had time to receive the last rites before breathing his last.*
Dear God, when I received this precious mainstay of such an illustrious family into my arms as he came into this world, how could I have foreseen that it would be in my arms that he left it and that I should have to mourn his death? And so premature and so unfortunate a death! Despite my efforts, I cannot control my tears. I must ask you to excuse me, Madame, for mingling them with yours but in every walk of life people have their own hearts and feelings; and it would indeed be ungrateful of me not to mourn for the rest of my life his lordship, who has shown me so much kindness and honoured me with such trust.
Tomorrow, after the removal of the body, I shall seal up everything where necessary; you may rely on my most careful attention.
You will be aware, Madame, that this sad event puts an end to the entail on your estate and leaves you free to make any provisions that you may wish. If I can be of any assistance, I would ask you to be so kind as to let me have your instructions which I shall be only too glad to carry out most meticulously.
With deepest respect, Madame, I am yours etc.
Bertrand
164
Madame de Rosemonde to Monsieur Bertrand From the Château de —–, 8 December 17—
My dear Bertrand, I have just received your letter informing me of the dreadful calamity which has befallen my poor unfortunate nephew. Yes, I certainly do have instructions for you and it is only because I am eager to deliver them that I can bring myself for a brief moment to put aside my immense grief.
Monsieur Danceny’s letter which you enclosed is convincing proof that it was he who provoked the duel and my intention is for you to have charges laid against him without delay, in my name. When forgiving his enemy, his murderer, my nephew may have been satisfying his generous instincts; but I must avenge not only his death but humanity and religion.* It is impos
sible to invoke the full rigour of our laws too energetically against this relic of barbarism which remains a blot on our customs; nor do I think that in such a case any talk of forgiveness of sins is relevant. I therefore expect you to prosecute this matter with the vigour and zeal of which I know you to be capable. You owe it to the memory of my nephew.
In the first instance, you must take particular care to call on the presiding judge Monsieur de ——and consult with him; at the moment my grief is too great to make it possible for me to write to him myself, so make my apologies to him and show him this letter.
Goodbye, my dear Bertrand. All my thanks and good wishes; I shall always rely on you in all things.
165
Madame de Volanges to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 9 December 17—
I know, dear friend, that you are already aware of your recent sad bereavement. I knew how fond you were of Monsieur de Valmont and I deeply sympathize with the grief which you must be feeling. I am very sad to have to add to the sorrows which you already suffer, but, alas, our dear unhappy friend Madame de Tourvel is no more and we can only mourn her: she passed away at eleven o’clock last night. Fate seemed set on thwarting any effort of human foresight and it dogged her to the end: though she survived Monsieur de Valmont for so short a time, it was still long enough to hear news of his death, so that as she herself said, she was not finally allowed to die without draining her cup of bitterness to the dregs.
I believe you knew that she had been completely unconscious for two days, and even yesterday when her doctor arrived and we went over to her bed, she did not recognize either of us and we were unable to obtain a single word or sign from her. Well, hardly had we gone back to the fireplace and the doctor was informing me of the sad death of Monsieur de Valmont when this unhappy woman completely recovered her senses, either through some sudden natural agency or else by the repetition of the words ‘Valmont’ and ‘death’ which may have reminded the sick woman of the only thoughts that had been going through her head for such a long time.
Whatever the reason, without warning she flung open her bed-curtains, exclaiming: ‘What was that you were saying? Is Monsieur de Valmont dead?’ I tried to persuade her that she was mistaken and that she had misheard what we were saying; but far from being convinced, she insisted on the doctor’s repeating his grim tale; and when I again attempted to persuade her otherwise, she called me over to her and whispered: ‘Why do you try to deceive me? In my eyes, wasn’t he already dead?’ So we had to do as she asked.
At first, our poor friend listened fairly calmly but she soon cut the doctor short and said: ‘That’s enough, that’s all I wanted to know.’ She immediately asked for her curtains to be closed and when the doctor later tried to attend to her, she refused to allow him near her.
As soon as he had left, she similarly sent her maid and her sick-nurse out of the room and once we were alone, she asked me to help her to kneel up in bed and support her. She remained like that in silence for a while, with no expression on her face but with tears pouring down her cheeks. Then, clasping her hands and lifting them up to Heaven, she said in a weak but fervent voice: ‘Almighty God, I submit to Thy just punishment; but forgive Valmont. May my misfortunes, which I acknowledge are well-deserved, not be a cause of blame for him and I shall bless Thy merciful grace!’ I have taken the liberty, dear friend, of going into these details, while realizing that they are bound to renew and exacerbate your sorrow, because I feel sure nevertheless that this prayer of Madame de Tourvel will bring great comfort to your soul.
After uttering these few words, our friend collapsed into my arms and hardly had she been laid down on her bed than she fainted but was revived by the usual methods. As soon as she came to herself, she asked me to send for Father Anselme, adding: ‘He is the only doctor I need now. I can feel that all my ills will soon be at an end.’ She complained of having great difficulty in breathing and was finding it hard to speak.
A short while later she asked her maid to let me have a small casket which she said contained some of her papers and requested me to pass it on to you immediately after her death. I am sending it to you herewith.* After that she talked with me about you and your friendship with her, as well as her condition allowed, with much emotion.
At about four o’clock Father Anselme arrived and spent nearly an hour with her alone. When we came back into the room the expression on the sick woman’s face was calm and peaceful but it was easy to see that Father Anselme was very tearful. He stayed to witness the last rites. This ceremony, always so painful and so impressive, was made even more so by the contrast between the calm resignation of the sick woman and the deep distress of her venerable confessor who was sobbing beside her, so that the only person not crying was the one for whose sake we were all in tears.
The rest of the day was spent in appropriate prayer which was interrupted only when the sick woman frequently lost consciousness. Finally, towards eleven o’clock that night she seemed to me to be in greater pain and finding it harder to breathe. I stretched out my hand to feel for her arm; she barely had the strength to take it and place it on her heart. I could not feel it beat and indeed at that very moment our dear, unhappy friend breathed her last.
Do you recall during your last visit here less than a year ago how we chatted together about the few people whose happiness seemed more or less secure and with what pleasure we dwelt on the happy lot of that very woman whose misfortunes and death we are now mourning? She was so virtuous, with so many admirable and agreeable qualities, with such a gentle, easy-going nature; a husband whom she loved and who adored her, the darling of a society which she enjoyed; she was young, beautiful, wealthy; yet this combination of so many advantages has been utterly destroyed by one single imprudent relationship! O Providence, your decrees must no doubt be respected but how unfathomable they are! I must stop: I am afraid of causing you greater sadness by giving way to mine.
I shall leave here and go back to see my daughter who is a trifle indisposed. This morning, when I told her of the sudden deaths of two people with whom she was acquainted, she felt unwell and I had to put her to bed. However, I hope that this slight indisposition will have no further consequences. At that age, they are still not used to such upsets and they react all the more sensitively and violently. This sensitivity is no doubt an admirable quality but everything we see all the time warns us to beware of it! Goodbye, dear friend; with my kindest regards, yours, etc.
166
Monsieur Bertrand to Madame de Rosemonde Paris, 10 December 17—
Madame, following the instructions which I had the honour of receiving from you, I myself had the further honour of calling on the presiding judge Monsieur de ——and communicating your letter to him, informing him also that, in accordance with your wishes, I was to take no action without first consulting him. His Honour directed me to draw your attention to the fact that the charge which you propose to lay against Monsieur le Chevalier Danceny would equally compromise your nephew’s memory, that his own honour would of necessity be impugned by any judgement of the court, and this would certainly be most unfortunate. His advice therefore is that we must take care not to proceed in this way and were any action to be contemplated it should rather be to endeavour to prevent the Public Prosecutor from enquiring into this unhappy affair which has already aroused excessive scandal.
These observations seemed to me full of wisdom and I shall therefore await your instructions before proceeding further in this matter.
May I also beg you, Madame, when you send these instructions to add a word on the state of your dear health which I greatly fear may have suffered from the trials to which it has been subjected. I hope that you will excuse this impertinence on my part which springs wholly from my eagerness to serve you and from my affection for you.
With due respects, I am, Madame, yours etc.
167
Unsigned note* to Monsieur le Chevalier Danceny Paris, 10 December 17—
I have the honour to inform
you, Monsieur, that the matter of your recent affair with Monsieur le Vicomte de Valmont was considered by the King’s Officers in the Public Prosecutor’s office this morning and it is to be feared that charges may be laid. I thought that this warning may be of some help to you, either to enable you to alert your friends in court to find means of countering these unpleasant consequences or, if you are not in a position to do this, to take measures to remove yourself to a place of safety.
If indeed I may be allowed to offer you a word of advice, I think that you would do well to make fewer appearances in public than you have recently. Although in general these sorts of affairs are viewed leniently, the Law must none the less always be treated with respect.
This precaution becomes all the more necessary inasmuch as a certain Madame de Rosemonde, who, we have been told, is Vicomte de Valmont’s aunt, was proposing to lay charges against you, in which case the Public Prosecutor would be unable to refuse her demand. It might perhaps be appropriate if you were able to have a word placed in that lady’s ear.
Private reasons prevent me from signing this letter; but though you do not know from whom it has come, I hope I may rely on you to give due weight to the feeling which lies behind it.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses Page 45