I continued the happy search; I found all my letters in order according to their dates; and what still surprised me more agreeably was, to find the first of them, that which I thought had been returned to me by my ungrateful fair one, faithfully copied in her own hand-writing, but in an altered and trembling manner, which sufficiently testified the soft agitation of her heart during the time she was employed at it.
So far I was entirely occupied with love; but soon gave way to the greatest rage.
Who think you it is that wants to destroy me, with this woman I adore?
What fury do you suppose wicked enough to form so diabolical a plan!
You know her: it's your friend, your relation; it is Madame de Volanges.
You cannot conceive what a string of horrible stories the infernal Megera has wrote against me.
It is she, and she alone, has disturbed the peace of this angelic woman; it is by her counsels, by her pernicious advice, that I find myself obliged to retire; I am sacrificed to her!
Certainly her daughter shall be seduced; but that is not sufficient, she shall be ruined; and since the age of this accursed woman shelters her from my blows, I must strike at her in the object of her affections.
She will then force me to return to Paris; she obliges me to it!
Be it so; I will return; but she shall have reason to lament my return.
I am sorry Danceny is to be the hero of this adventure; he has a fund of honour that will be a restraint upon us; but he is in love, and we are often together: I may turn him to account.
My anger overcomes me, and I forget that I am to give you the recital of what has passed to-day.
This morning I saw my lovely prude; she never appeared so charming; that was of course; it is the most powerful moment with a woman, that shall produce an intoxication of soul, which is so often spoke of, and so rarely felt, when, though certain of their affections, we have not yet possessed their favours; which is precisely my case.
Perhaps the idea, also, of being deprived of the pleasure of seeing her, served to embellish her.
At length the post arrived, and brought me your letter of the 27th; and whilst I was reading it, I hesitated whether I should keep my word or not; but I met my fair one's eyes, and I found it impossible to refuse her any thing.
I therefore announced my departure immediately after Madame de Rosemonde left us: I was four paces distant from the austere lovely one, when she started with a frightened air, "leave me, leave me, Sir," said she; "for the love of God, leave me!"
This fervent prayer, which discovered her emotion, animated me the more; I was now close to her, and took hold of her hands, which she had joined together with the most moving, affecting expressiveness. I then began my tender complaints, when some evil genius brought back Madame de Rosemonde.
The timid devotee, who has in reality some reason to be apprehensive, seized the opportunity, and retired.
I notwithstanding offered her my hand, which she accepted; and judging favourably of this kindness, which she had not shown for so long a time, and again renewing my complaints, I endeavoured to squeeze hers.
She at first endeavoured to draw it back; but upon a more pressing instance, she gave it up with a good grace, although without either answering this emotion or my discourse.
Being come to the door of her apartment, I wanted to kiss that hand before I left her: she struggled, but an ah! think I am going to part, pronounced with great tenderness, made her awkward and defenceless; the kiss was scarcely given, when the hand recovered its strength to escape, and the fair one entered her apartment where the waiting-maid was: here ends my tale.
As I presume you will be to-morrow at the Lady Marechale's de ——, where, certainly, I shall not go to look for you; and as at our first interview we shall have a great many things to talk over, especially that of the little Volanges, which I do not lose sight of; I have determined to send this letter before me; and although it is so long, I will not close it until the moment I am going to send it to the post; for I am so circumstanced, that a great deal may depend on an opportunity; and I leave you to watch for it.
P. S.
Eight o'clock at night.
Nothing new; not the least moment of liberty; even the greatest care employed to avoid it.
Yet as much grief as decency would permit, for the least another event, which may not be a matter of indifference, as Madame de Rosemonde has commanded me to give an invitation to Madame de Volanges, to come and spend a few days in the country.
Adieu, my lovely friend, until to-morrow, or the day after at farthest!
Aug. 28, 17—. _____
LETTER XLV.
The Presidente DE TOURVEL to MADAME DE VOLANGES. _____
Mr. de Valmont is gone this morning, Madam: you seemed so anxiously to wish for this event, that I have thought it my duty to impart it to you.
Madame de Rosemonde is inconsolable for the loss of her nephew, whose company was really very pleasing: she spent the whole morning in talking to me of him with her usual sensibility; she was inexhaustible in his praise.
I thought myself bound to attend to it without interruption; and indeed I must own she was right on many heads; besides, I was sensible I was the cause of this separation, and have no prospect of making her amends for the pleasure of which I have deprived her.
You know I am not naturally inclined to gaiety, and our manner of life here will not contribute much to increase it.
Had I not been following your advice, I should have been inclined to think I had acted too precipitately; for I was really hurt at the grief I had caused my respectable friend; I was so much moved, that I could have mingled my tears with hers.
We now live on the hope that you will accept the invitation that Mr. de Valmont will give you from Madame de Rosemonde, to come and pass a little time with her.
I hope you have no doubt of the great satisfaction your compliance will give me; and indeed you should make us amends.
I shall be happy in this opportunity of having the pleasure of being sooner acquainted with Mademoiselle de Volanges, and to be near you, to assure you more and more of the respectful sentiments with which I am, &c.
Aug. 29, 17—. _____
LETTER XLVI.
The CHEVALIER DANCENY to CECILIA VOLANGES. _____
What then has happened to you, my adorable Cecilia!
What can have caused so sudden, so cruel a change in you?
What are become of your vows of eternal constancy?
Even yesterday you renewed them with so much pleasure: what! can to-day make you forget them?
In vain do I examine—I can't find any reason given by myself; and it afflicts me much to have to seek the cause in you.
Ah, no! you are neither fickle or deceitful; and even in this moment of despair, no unworthy suspicion shall disgrace my heart; and yet, from what fatality are you no longer the same?
No, cruel creature, you are not!
The tender Cecilia, the Cecilia I adore! whose constancy is pledged to me, would not have shunned my tender looks; would not have thwarted the happy accident that placed me near her; or, if any reason that I can't conceive, had forced her treat to me with so much rigour, she would at least have condescended to have informed me of it.
Ah! you don't know, you never can know, what you have made me suffer at this day, what I shall suffer at this instant!