I found myself much easier, and was impatient until the lady went away.
She was on her visits, and soon retired.
As soon as she was gone, I said I would again play on my harpsichord, and begged he would bring it.
I saw by his looks he suspected nothing; but when he returned, oh, he was so pleased!
In laying the instrument before me, he placed himself in such a manner that Mamma could not see, and squeezed my hand—but it was but for a moment: I can't express the pleasure I received; I drew it away however; so that I have nothing to reproach myself with.
Now, my dear friend, you see I can't avoid writing to him, since I have promised; and I will not chagrin him any more I am determined; for I suffer more than he does.
Certainly, as to any thing bad, I would not be guilty of it, but what harm can there be in writing, when it is to prevent one from being unhappy?
What puzzles me is, that I shall not know what to say; but that signifies nothing; and I am certain its coming from me will be quite sufficient.
Adieu, my dear friend!
If you think me wrong, tell me; but I don't believe I am.
As the time draws near to write to him, my heart beats strangely; however, it must be so, as I have promised it.
From ——, Aug. 20, 17—. _____
LETTER XIX.
CECILIA VOLANGES to CHEVALIER DANCENY. _____
You was so pensive, Sir, yesterday, and it gave me so much uneasiness to see you so, that I could not avoid promising to answer the letter you wrote me.
I now think it unbecoming; yet, as I promised, I will not break my word, a proof of the friendship I have for you.
Now I have made this acknowledgment, I hope you will never more ask me to write to you again, or ever let any one know I have wrote to you; for I should most certainly be blamed, and it might occasion me a deal of uneasiness.
But above all, I hope you will not have a bad opinion of me, which would give me the greatest concern; for I assure you, I could not have been induced to do this by any one else.
I wish much you would not be so melancholy as you have been, lately, as it deprives me of all the satisfaction I have in your company.
You see, Sir, I speak very sincerely to you.
I wish much that our friendship may be lasting; but I beg you'll write to me no more.
I have the honour to be,
CECILIA VOLANGES.
Aug. 20, 17—. _____
LETTER XX.
The MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL to VISCOUNT VALMONT. _____
So, knave, you begin to wheedle, lest I should laugh at you!
Well, I forgive you.
You say so many ridiculous things, that I must pardon you, the trammels you are kept in by your Presidente; however, my Chevalier would be apt not to be so indulgent, and not to approve the renewal of our contract; neither would he find any thing very entertaining in your foolish whim.
I laughed, however, exceedingly at it, and was truly sorry I was obliged to laugh alone.
Had you been here, I don't know how far my good humour might have led me; but reflection came to my aid, and I armed myself with severity.
It is not that I have determined to break off for ever; but I am resolved to delay for some time, and I have my reasons.
Perhaps some vanity might arise in the case, and that once roused, one does not know whither it may lead.
I should be inclined to enslave you again, and oblige you to give up your Presidente; but if a person of my unworthiness should give you a disgust for virtue itself, in a human shape, what a scandal!
To avoid this danger, these are my stipulations.
As soon as you have obtain'd your lovely devotee, and that you can produce your proofs, come, I am yours.
But I suppose it unnecessary to inform you that, in important matters, none but written proofs are admitted.
By this arrangement I shall, on the one hand, become a reward instead of a consolation, and this idea pleases me most: on the other hand, your success will be more brilliant, by becoming in the same moment the cause of an infidelity.
Come then, come speedily, and bring the pledge of your triumph; like our valiant knights of old, who deposited, at their ladies' feet, the trophies of their victories.
I am really curious to know what a prude can say after such an adventure; what covering she can give her words after having uncovered her person.
You are to judge whether I rate myself too high; but I must assure you beforehand, I will abate nothing.
Till then, my dear Viscount, you must not be angry that I should be constant to my Chevalier; and that I should amuse myself in making him happy, although it may give you a little uneasiness.
If I was not so strict a moralist, I believe at this instant he would have a most dangerous rival in the little Volanges.
I am bewitched with this little girl: it is a real passion.
I am much mistaken, or she will be one day or other one of our most fashionable women.
I can see her little heart expanding; and it is a most ravishing sight!—She already loves her Danceny to distraction, yet knows nothing of it; and he, though deeply smitten, has that youthful timidity, that frightens him from declaring his passion.
They are both in a state of mutual adoration before me: the girl has a great mind to disburden her heart, especially for some days past; and I should have done her immense service in assisting her a little; but she is yet a child, and I must not commit myself.
Danceny has spoke plainer; but I will have nothing to do with him.
As to the girl, I am often tempted to make her my pupil; it is a piece of service I'm inclined to do Gercourt.
He gives me time enough, as he must remain in Corsica until October.