I practised those two characters, and perhaps with some success; but, instead of courting the vain applause of the theatre, I determined to turn what so many others sacrificed to vanity, to my own happiness.
A year was spent in those different employments.
My mourning being expired, I returned to town with my grand projects, but did not expect the first obstacle which fell in my way.
The austere retreat and long solitude I bad been accustomed to, had given me such an air of prudery as frightened our prettiest fellows, and left me a prey to a crowd of tiresome gallants, who all made pretensions to my person; the difficulty was, not to refuse them; but several of those refusals were not agreeable to my family: I lost in those domestic broils the time which I flattered myself to make so charming a use.
I was obliged then to recall the one, and disperse the others, to be guilty of some frivolities, and to take the same pains to hurt my reputation that I had taken to preserve it.
In this I easily succeeded, as you may very well imagine; but, not being swayed by any passion, I only did what I judged necessary, and dealt out prudently some little acts of volatility.
As soon as I had accomplished my aim, I stopped short, gave the credit of my reformation to some women, who not having any pretensions to beauty or attractions, wrapt themselves up in merit and virtue.
This resolution was of great importance, and turned out better than I could have expected; those grateful duennas became my apologists, and their blind zeal for what they called their own work, was carried to such a length, that upon the least conversation that was held about me, the whole prude party exclaimed shame and scandal!
The same means acquired me also the good opinion of our women of talents, who, convinced that I did not pursue the same objects they did, chose me for the subject of their praise, whenever they asserted they did not scandalize every body.
However, my former conduct brought back the lovers; to keep the balance even between them and my new female friends, I exhibited myself as a woman not averse to love, but difficult, and whom the excess of delicacy rendered superior to love.
Then I began to display upon the grand theatre the talents I had acquired: my first care was to acquire the name of invincible; in order to obtain it, the men who were not pleasing to me were the only ones whose addresses I seemed to accept.
I employed them usefully in procuring me the honours of resistance, whilst I gave myself up without dread to the favoured lover; but my assumed timidity never permitted him to appear with me in public company, whose attention was always thus drawn off to the unfortunate lover.
You know how expeditious I am in my decisions; this proceeds from my observation, that it is always the preparatory steps which betray women's secrets.
Let one do what they will, the ton is never the same before as after success.
This difference does not escape the attentive observer; and I have found it always less dangerous to be mistaken in my choice, than to suffer myself to be seen through; I moreover gain by this conduct, to remove probabilities on which only a judgment may be formed.
Those precautions, and that of never corresponding, to give any proof of my defeat, may appear satisfactory; however, I never thought them sufficient.
Examining my own heart, I studied that of others; then I found, there is no person whatever who has not a secret that it is important should not be revealed; an established truth of which antiquity seems to have been more sensible than we are, and of which, perhaps, the history of Samson may have been an ingenious emblem.
Like another Dalilah, I always employed my power in discovering this important secret.
Ah! how many of our modern Samsons do I not hold by the hair under my scissars!
Those I have no dread of; they are the only ones that I sometimes take a pleasure in mortifying.
More pliant with others, I endeavour to render them fickle, to avoid appearing inconstant myself. A feigned friendship, an apparent confidence, some generous dealings, the flattering idea that each was possessed with, of being my only lover, has secured discretion; in short, when all those means have failed, I have known how to stifle beforehand, (foreseeing my rapture), under the cloak of ridicule and calumny, the credit those dangerous men might obtain.
What I now tell you, you have often seen me put in practice; and yet you call my prudence in question!
Don't you recollect, when you first began your courtship to me?
I never was more flattered; I sighed for you before I saw you.
Captivated by your reputation, you seemed to be wanting to my glory; I burned with the desire of encountering you face to face; it was the only one of my inclinations that ever took a moment's ascendancy over me; yet, had you been inclined to ruin me, what means had you in your power?
Idle conversations that leave no traces after them, that your reputation even would have rendered suspicious, and a set of facts without probability, the sincere recital of which would have had the appearance of a romance badly assimilated.
It is true, you have since been in possession of all my secrets; but you are sensible how our interests are united, and which of us two ought to be taxed with imprudence.[Hereafter will be seen, in the 152d Letter, not Mr. de Valmont's secret, but pretty nearly of what kind it was; and the reader will perceive, that we could throw no more light on that subject].
Since I am in the humour of giving you an account of myself, I will do it with the utmost exactitude.—I think I hear you say I'm at least at the mercy of my chambermaid!
Truly, if she is not in the secret of my sentiments, she is at least in that of my actions.
When you spoke to me on this subject formerly, I only answered you, I was sure of her; the proof this answer was then sufficient to make you easy, is, you have since confided in her, and for your own account; but now Prevan gives you umbrage, that your head is turned, I doubt much you'll not take my word: you must, then, be edified.
First, this girl is my foster-sister; this tie, which appears nothing to us, has a great influence with people of her condition: moreover, I am in possession of her secrets; she is the victim of a love intrigue, and would have been ruined if I had not saved her.
Her parents, armed at all points with sentiments of honour, wanted to have her shut up: they applied to me about it; I instantly saw how useful their resentment might be to me, and seconded their intentions; solicited the order from court, which I obtained; then suddenly, preferring clemency, brought her parents round, employing my credit with the old minister of state, and prevailed on them to depute me the trustee in this business, to stop or demand the execution of it, according as I should think the behaviour of the girl would deserve.
She knows, then, her fate rests in my hands; and if, which is impossible, those powerful motives would not prevent, is it not evident, that her conduct being laid open, and her punishment authenticated, it would soon wipe away all credit to her tale?
Add to all these precautions, which I call fundamental ones, a thousand others, either local or eventual, that reflection and habitude would produce, if needful, the detail of which would be too minute, but the practice very important, and which you must take the trouble to collect in the whole of my conduct, if you want to arrive at the knowledge of them.
But to pretend that I, who have taken so much pains, should not receive any benefit, after having raised myself so much above other women by my assiduous labours;—that I should consent to creep, like them, between imprudence and timidity; but, above all, I should dread a man so far as to find my salvation only in flight.
No, Viscount; I must conquer or perish.
As to Prevan, I must and will have him.
He will tell, you say: but he shall not tell. This, in a few words, is our romance.
Sept. 20, 17—. _____
LETTER LXXXII.
CECILIA VOLANGES to the CHEVALIER DANCENY. _____
My God! what trouble your letter gives me!
I had great reason, to be sure, to be impatient to receive it.
I expected to have received some consolation, and am now more afflicted than ever.
I could not help crying when I read it.
But that is not what I reproach you with; for I have often cried already upon your account, without giving me so much trouble: but now the case is altered.
What is it, then, you mean to say?
That your love is now a torment to you; that you can't live any longer thus, nor bear to be so circumstanced?
What! will you cease loving me, because it is not quite so easy to see me as formerly?
Don't think I am happier than you; on the contrary: but I love you the more notwithstanding.