She carried off all Danceny's letters.
I shudder every time I think that I must appear before her again.
I have done nothing but cry all night.
It is but just daylight, and I write to you, in hopes that Josephine will come.
If I can speak to her alone, I shall beg of her to leave a note, that I shall write, with Madame de Merteuil; and if I cannot, I will put it in your letter, and you will be so good as to send it, as from yourself.
It is from her alone that I can receive any consolation.
We will, at least, speak of him, for I never hope to see him more.
I am very unhappy.
She perhaps will be kind enough to deliver a letter to Danceny.
I dare not confide in Josephine, and still less in my waiting maid; for it is, perhaps, she that told my mother that I had letters in my desk.
I will not write to you any more now, because I must have time to write to Madame de Merteuil and Danceny, and to have all my letters ready, if she will take charge of them; after that, I will go to bed again, that they may find me in bed when they come into my room.
I will say I am ill, to prevent my being called to mamma.
I shall not tell a great lie; for I surely suffer as much as if I had a fever.
My eyes are inflamed with crying; and I have a weight at my stomach, which prevents me from breathing.
When I think I never shall see Danceny more, I wish I was dead.
Farewell, my dear Sophy.
I can't write any more; my tears suffocate me.
Sept. 7, 17—. _____
LETTER LXII.
MADAME DE VOLANGES to CHEVALIER DANCENY. _____
You will certainly not be surprised, Sir, after having so grossly abused the confidence of a mother, and the innocence of a child, to be no longer admitted into a house where you have repaid the sincerest friendship with the blackest ingratitude.
I prefer desiring you never more to appear here, rather than giving orders to my servants to refuse you admittance, which would affect us all, by the remarks that would infallibly be made.
I have a right to expect you will not put me under the necessity of taking this step.
I must also acquaint you, that if you should hereafter make the least attempt to keep up a correspondence with my daughter, a severe and everlasting confinement shall withdraw her from your solicitations.
I leave it then to yourself, Sir, to determine whether you will be the cause of her misery, as you have attempted to be that of her dishonour.
As to myself, my resolution is fixed, and she's informed of it.
I send you, enclosed, all your letters; and I expect you will send me back those of my daughter; and that you will concur in leaving no mark of an event, the remembrance of which fills me with indignation; her with shame, as it should you with remorse.
I have the honour, &c.
Sept. 7, 17—. _____
LETTER LXIII.
MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL to VISCOUNT DE VALMONT. _____
Yes, certainly, I can explain Danceny's letter to you.
The incident that gave birth to it is my work, and I think it a master-piece.
I lost no time since I received your last letter; and, in the words of the Athenian architect,
"What he has said, I will perform."
There must be obstacles then for our hero of romance; and his happiness lulls him.
Oh! leave that to me, I will cut out work for him; and I am much mistaken if he sleeps so quietly hereafter.
It was necessary to make him sensible of his folly; and I flatter myself that he now regrets the opportunity he has let slip.
You say also, that is necessary there should be a little mystery in the business: well, take my word for it, that shall not be wanting.
I have this good quality, that if I am but told my faults, I am not at rest till I amend them.
Now to inform you what I have done—at my return the day before yesterday, in the morning I received your letter, which is truly admirable.
Being fully satisfied that you had very well pointed out the cause of the disorder, I set about finding the method of cure.
But first I lay down; for the indefatigable Chevalier did not suffer me to take the least repose; and I thought I should sleep: but no; totally taken up with the thoughts of rousing Danceny from his lethargy, or punishing him for it, I could not close my eyes; and it was not until after I had well digested my plan, I got two hours repose.
I went that same evening to see Madame de Volanges; and told her, in pursuance of my scheme, in a very confidential manner, I was very certain there subsisted between her daughter and Danceny a dangerous connection.
This woman, so penetrating in your business, was blinded to such a degree, that at first she replied, I certainly was mistaken; her daughter was but a child, &c. &c.
I could not venture to tell her all I knew: but quoted looks, words, which much alarmed my friendship and virtue.
I spoke almost as well as a devotee: to give the finishing blow to my intelligence, I told her I thought I saw a letter given and received.
That I also recollected she one day opened a drawer in her bureau, in which I observed several papers, which she doubtless carefully preserves.
"Do you know any one she corresponds with frequently?"
At that question Madame de Volanges' countenance changed, and I observed some tears drop from her.