Oh! how I shall write to M. Danceny, and how well satisfied he'll be; he will be more so than he thinks; for, till now, I only mentioned friendship to him, and he wanted me always to call it love.
I believe it was pretty much the same; but I was afraid—that was the fact.
I told Madame de Merteuil of it; she told me I was in the right; and that an avowal of love ought only to be made when one could no longer help it: now I'm sure I cannot help it much longer; after all, it is all one, and it will please him most.
Madame de Merteuil told me also, that she would lend me some books, which treat that subject very fully, and would teach me how to conduct myself, and also to write better than I do: for she tells me all my faults, and that is a proof she loves me; she charged me only to say nothing to Mamma of those books, because it would look as if she had neglected my education, and that might displease her.
I will engage I shall say nothing of it.
It is, however, very extraordinary, that a woman, who is but a very distant relation, should take more care of me than my mother!
I am very happy to be acquainted with her.
She has asked my Mamma leave to take me to the opera, to her own box, the day after to-morrow; she told me we should be by ourselves, and would chat all the while, without danger of being overheard.—I like that a great deal better than the opera.
My marriage will be, in part, the subject of our conversation, I hope; for she told me it was very certain I was to be married; but we had not an opportunity to say any more.
Is it not very strange Mamma says nothing at all to me about it.
Adieu, my dear Sophy; I am going to write to Chevalier Danceny.
I am quite happy.
Aug. 24, 17—. _____
LETTER XXX.
CECILIA VOLANGES to the CHEVALIER DANCENY. _____
At last, Sir, I consent to write to you, to assure you of my friendship, of my love even, since without that you must be unhappy.
You say I have not a tender heart: I assure you you are much mistaken; and I hope you now doubt it no longer.
If you were uneasy because I did not write to you, do you think it did not give me a great deal of concern too?
The reason was, I would not, for all the world, do any thing that was wrong; and I should not even have owned my affection for you, if I could have helped it; but your grief gave me too much uneasiness.
I hope now you will be so no longer, and that we shall be very happy.
I expect to have the pleasure of seeing you this evening, and that you will come early; it will not be as much so as I wish.
Mamma sups at home, and I believe she will ask you to stay.
I hope you will not be engaged, as you was the day before yesterday.
Surely the company you went to sup with must have been very pleasing, for you went very soon; but let us talk no more of that.
Now that you know I love you, I hope you will be with me as often as you can; for I am never pleased but when with you; and I wish, with all my heart, you were the same.
I am very sorry you should still be melancholy; but it is not my fault.
I shall desire to play on the harpsichord as soon as you come, that you may have my letter immediately.
I think that is the best thing I can do.
Farewell, Sir; I love you with all my heart; the oftener I tell you so, the more happy I feel.
I hope you will be so too.
Aug. 24, 17—. _____
LETTER XXXI.
CHEVALIER DANCENY to CECILIA VOLANGES. _____
Yes, certainly, we shall be very happy.
My happiness is secure, since I am beloved by you. Yours will never end, if it lasts as long as my love.
And do you love me, and no longer dread telling me so?
The oftener you tell me so, the more happy you feel.
After having read the enchanting I love you, wrote with your hand, I heard your lovely mouth repeat the avowal.
I figured to me those charming eyes, rendered still more so by the expression of tenderness fixed on me.
I have received your vows to live for me alone.
Oh receive mine, to devote my life to your happiness, and be assured I never will deceive you!
What a happy day was yesterday!
Why has not Madame de Merteuil always secrets to impart to your Mamma?
Why must the idea of the restraint that attends us, be mixed with the delicious remembrance that fills my soul?
Why can't I for ever squeeze that lovely hand, that wrote I love you, imprint it with my kisses, and be thus revenged for your refusal of a greater favour?
Tell me, then, my Cecilia, when your Mamma came back, when, by her presence, we were constrained to behave with indifference to each other, when you could no longer console me by assurances of love, for the refusal of proof, did not you feel some sorrow? did not you say to yourself, one kiss would have made him completely happy, and refused it?
Promise me, my lovely charmer, that you'll be not so rigorous the first opportunity.
Such a promise will enable me to bear up against the disappointments that I foresee are preparing for us, and the crosses I shall meet, will at least be softened by the certainty that you share them.
Adieu, my adorable Cecilia! The hour is come that I am to be with you.
It would be impossible for me to leave off, if it was not to go to you.