I am much concerned, my charming girl, to be deprived of the pleasure of seeing you, as well as for the cause; I hope we shall find another opportunity.
I performed your commission with the Chevalier Danceny, who will certainly be very sorry to hear of your Mamma's indisposition; if she'll admit me to-morrow, I'll wait on her.
She and I will attack the Chevalier de Belleroche at piquet (This is the same who is mentioned in Madame de Merteuil's letters); and in winning his money, we shall have the double pleasure of hearing you sing with your amiable master, to whom I shall propose it.
If it be agreeable to your Mamma and you, I will answer for my two Knights and myself.
Adieu, my lovely girl!
My compliments to Madame de Volanges.
I embrace you most affectionately.
From ——, Aug. 13, 17—. _____
LETTER XIV.
CECILIA VOLANGES to SOPHIA CARNAY. _____
I did not write to you yesterday, my dear Sophy; but I assure you it was not pleasure that prevented me.
My Mamma was indisposed, and I did not quit her the whole day.
At night, when I retired, I had not spirits to do any thing; and I went to bed very early, in order to terminate the day: never did I pass so long a one.
It is not but I love Mamma very much; but I don't know how it was.
I was to have gone to the opera with Madame de Merteuil; the Chevalier Danceny was to have been there.
You know they are the two I love most.
When the hour of the opera arrived, my heart was oppressed in spite of me; every thing displeased me, and I wept involuntarily.
Fortunately Mamma was in bed, and could not see me.
I am sure Chevalier Danceny must have been chagrined as well as I; but the company and performance must have amused him: I am very differently situated.
But Mamma is better to-day, and Madame de Merteuil, Chevalier Danceny, and another gentleman, will be with us.
Madame de Merteuil comes late, and it's very tiresome to be so long alone.
It is only eleven, yet I must practise my harpsichord, it is true; and then my toilet will take me up some time, for I will have my head well dressed to-day.
I really believe our mother Abbess was right, that one becomes a coquet on entering into life.
I never had so strong a desire to be handsome, as for some days past, and I think I am not so handsome as I thought; in women's company that paint, one looks much worse; for example, all the men think Madame de Merteuil handsomer than me; that does not vex me much, because she loves me: and then she assures me the Chevalier Danceny thinks me handsomer than her.
It is very good natured of her to tell me so; she even seemed to be glad of it.
Now I don't conceive how that can be.
It is because she loves me so much!
And he too!
Oh that gives me infinite pleasure!
I really think, barely looking at him makes me appear handsome.
I would always be looking at him, if I was not afraid of meeting his eyes: for as often as that happens, it disconcerts me, and gives me uneasiness; but that signifies nothing.
Adieu, my dear Sophy! I am going to dress.
Paris, Aug. 14, 17—. _____
LETTER XV.
VISCOUNT VALMONT to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL. _____
Indeed you are very kind not to abandon me to my melancholy fate: the life I lead here is really fatiguing, from excess of repose and insipid uniformity.
Reading your letter with the particulars of your delightful excursion, I was tempted twenty times to pretend business, fly to your feet, and beg of you to commit, in my favour, an infidelity to your Chevalier, who really does not deserve his bliss.
Do you know you have roused my jealousy?
Why tell me of an eternal rupture?
I recant an oath taken in a fit of frenzy. We should not have been entitled to so solemn a privilege, had we seriously intended to keep it.
Ah, may I be one day revenged in your embraces, for the vexation the Chevalier's happiness gives me!
I am all indignation I own, to think that a man who has scarce common sense, without taking the least trouble, and only simply following the instinct of his heart, should find a happiness I can't attain.
Oh, I will disturb him: promise me I shall disturb him!
But have you not humiliated yourself?
You take the trouble to deceive him, and he is happier than you.
You think you have him in your toils, but you are in his.
He sleeps quietly, whilst you wake for his pleasures.
What could his slaves do more?
Hark ye, my lovely friend, while you divide yourself among many, I am not in the least jealous; I then look down on your lovers as on Alexander's successors; incapable of preserving among them that empire where I reigned sole monarch; but that you should give yourself up entirely to one of them, that another should exist as happy as me, I will not suffer; don't expect I'll bear it!
Either take me again, or take another; and do not, by any exclusive caprice, betray the inviolable friendship we have sworn to each other.