In the room of terrifying objects, you will find a tender submissive lover, and a delicious sentiment; your days will be marked with bliss; and the only regret you will have, will be to have lost so much time in indifference.
Myself even, since I have abandoned my errors, exist no longer but for love. I regret the time spent in pleasure; and I feel it is from you alone my happiness must proceed.
But let me entreat you, that the pleasure I have in writing to you may not be interrupted by the dread of offending.
I will not disobey you; but lay myself at your feet, and there reclaim the happiness you want to deprive me of; the only one that is left me.
I call on you; hear my prayers, and behold my tears.
Ah, Madam! will you refuse me?
Sept. 7, 17—. _____
LETTER LIX.
VISCOUNT DE VALMONT to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL. _____
Pray inform me, if you can, what is all this nonsense of Danceny.
What has happened, and what has he lost?
His fair one, perhaps, is angry at his constant respect; and really one would be vexed at a smaller matter.
What shall I say to him to-night at the rendezvous he requested, and which I have given him at all events.
I shall most certainly lose my time to attend his doleful ditty, if it does not lead us to something.
Passionate complaints are supportable only in a recitative obligato, or in grand airs.
Give me your directions then about this business, and what I am to do; otherwise I shall desert, to avoid the dulness I foresee.
Could I have a little chat with you this morning?
If you are busy, at least give me a line, and the catchword for the part I am to act.
Where was you yesterday?
I can never now have the pleasure of seeing you.
At this rate, it was not worth while to keep me in Paris in the month of September.
Take some resolution, however; for I have just received a most pressing invitation from the Countess de B——, to go see her in the country; and she writes very humorously, "that her husband has the finest wood in the world, which he preserves carefully for the amusement of his friends;" and you know I have some kind of right to that wood. I will go see it again, if you have no employment for me.
Adieu! Remember Danceny is to be with me at four o'clock.
Sept. 8, 17—. _____
LETTER LX.
CHEVALIER DANCENY to the VISCOUNT DE VALMONT. (Enclosed in the preceding.) _____
Ah, Sir! I am in a state of desperation; all is lost.
I dare not confide to paper the cause of my troubles; but want to pour them forth in the bosom of some faithful friend.
At what hour can I see you, to seek consolation and advice from you?
I was so happy the day I opened my mind to you; now, what an alteration! every thing is adverse to me.
What I suffer upon my own account is the least part of my torments; my uneasiness for a much dearer object is what I cannot support.
You, who are happier than me, can see her; and I expect from your friendship that you will not refuse me: but I must speak to you, and give you your instructions.
I know you will pity and assist me.
In you my hopes are centered.
You are sensible; you know what love is, and you are the only one in whom I can confide: do not refuse me your assistance.
Adieu, Sir! the only relief I experience in my sorrow, is to think I have still such a friend as you left.
Pray inform me, at what hour I can find you at home; if it is not this morning, I beg it may be early in the afternoon.
Sept. 8, 17—. _____
LETTER LXI.
CECILIA VOLANGES to SOPHIA CARNAY. _____
My dear Sophy, pity thy poor Cecilia; she is very unhappy.
Mamma knows all.
I cannot conceive how she had any suspicion; and yet she has discovered every thing.
Last night mamma appeared to be a little out of temper; but I did not take any notice of it; and whilst she was at cards, I chatted very agreeably with Madame de Merteuil, who supped with us. We had a great deal of talk about Danceny; and yet I believe we were not overheard.
She went away, and I retired to my apartment.
I was undressing when mamma came in, and ordered my waiting maid to retire; she demanded the key of my escrutoire.
The tone in which she made this requisition threw me all in a flutter, so that I could scarcely support myself; I made believe I could not find it: but at length I was obliged to obey.
The first drawer she opened was the very one where all Chevalier Danceny's letters were.
I was so perplexed, that when she asked me what they were, I could give her no other answer, but that it was nothing at all; but when I saw she began to read the first that offered, I had scarce time to fall into a chair, when I fainted.
As soon as I recovered, my mother, who had called in the waiting maid, retired, desiring me to go to bed.