Tell me, then, have I for ever lost your heart?
Am I totally forgotten?
I know not when you will hear my complaints, nor when they will be answered.
Valmont's friendship had secured our correspondence, but you rejected it; you thought it troublesome; it was too frequent.
Never more will I confide in love or in promises.
Who is to be believed, when Cecilia deceives me?
Am I no longer, then, your beloved Danceny?
No, that is not possible; you deceive your own heart.
A transitory apprehension, a momentary gloom, causes my present distress, which love will soon dispel: is it not so, my adorable Cecilia?
Yes, it is, and I am much to blame for accusing you.
How happy shall I be to discover my error, and repair it by soothing apologies and never-ending love.
Cecilia, lovely Cecilia, take pity on me; consent to see me; form the plan yourself: this is the consequence of absence; fears, doubts, and perhaps coolness.
One single glance, a word only, and we shall be happy.
But why mention happiness?
Mine is, perhaps, at an end, and that for ever.
Tortured with apprehensions, suspended between doubts and fears, I cannot form a resolution. My existence depends on love and sufferings: You alone, my Cecilia, are the arbitress of my fate; you alone can decide on my happiness or misery.
Paris, Sept. 27, 17—.
LETTER XCIV.
CECILIA VOLANGES to the CHEVALIER DANCENY.
I cannot conceive a word of your letter,——it gives me much uneasiness.
What, then, has M. de Valmont wrote to you? Can you think I no longer love you?
Perhaps it would be much better for me if it was otherwise, for I should not be so tormented as I am; it is really hard, that, loving as I do, you should always think me wrong; and instead of receiving consolation in my afflictions, the cause of all my troubles should proceed from you.
You imagine I deceive and misrepresent matters to you.
Upon my word you have a good opinion of me: But even suppose it the case, what would it avail me?
Certainly, if I ceas'd loving you, all my friends would be glad of it; but it is my misfortune I cannot, and must love a man who is not in the least obliged to me.
What have I done, then, to put you so much out of temper?
I was afraid to take a key, lest my mama should discover it, and bring more trouble on you and me; moreover, I did not think it right. How did I know whether I was acting right or wrong, as you knew nothing of the matter, and it was Mr. Valmont only that mentioned it?
Now that I know you would wish me to do it, I will take it to-morrow; then, I suppose, you will be satisfied—Mr. de Valmont may be your friend, for ought I know, but I think I love you at well as he does, at least; and yet he is always right, and I am wrong.—I assure you, I am very angry; however, that gives you no great uneasiness, as you know I am soon pacified: when I have the key, I can see you whenever I please: if you behave in this manner, though, I will not wish for it; I can better bear my own troubles than those you bring on me.
We might be happy still, only for the little disagreeable occurrences thrown in our way; if I was my own mistress, you would have no reason to complain: But, if you will not believe me, we shall always be very miserable; yet it shall not be my fault.
I hope we shall soon see each other, and then shall have no reason to be so tormented as we are now.
Could I have foreseen all this, the key should have been in my possession; but, indeed, I thought I was doing right.
Do not be angry with me, I beg of you.
Don't afflict yourself any more, and love me as much as I love you; then I shall be happy.
Adieu, my dear friend.
From the castle of ——, Sept. 28, 17—. _____
LETTER XCV.
CECILIA VOLANGES to the VISCOUNT DE VALMONT. _____
SIR, I beg you will return me the key you gave me to put in the place of the other; since it must be so, I must agree to it.
I don't know why you should write to Mr. Danceny, I did not love him: I don't think I ever gave you any reason to say so; it has given us both a great deal of uneasiness:—I know you have a friendship for him, therefore should not fret him nor me neither.
I should be much obliged to you if, when you write to him next, you would assure him of the contrary; for he reposes his confidence in you: nothing gives me so much trouble as not to be believed when I say a thing.
As to the key, you may make yourself perfectly easy; I remember all you wrote me very well; but if you have your letter still by you, and will give it to me at the same time, I assure you I shall take particular notice of it.
If you contrive to give it me to-morrow as we go to dinner, I would give you the other key the day after at breakfast, and you could return it to me in the same way you did the first.
Pray do not defer it any longer, as we ought not to give Mama an opportunity to discover it.
When you have once got possession of the key, you will be so good to make use of it to take my letters; and by this means Mr. Danceny will oftener hear from me, which will be much more convenient than at present.
I was a good deal frightened at first, which I hope you will be so good to excuse; and that you will, nevertheless, continue your friendship as heretofore: you may depend on my gratitude.
I have the honour to be, SIR, Your most obedient Humble Servant.
Sept. 28, 17—. _____
LETTER XCVI.
VISCOUNT DE VALMONT to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL. _____
I dare say, you have been in daily expectation of my compliments and eulogiums on your adventure; I even make no doubt but my long silence may have put you a little out of temper: But to sum up all, I will freely own I have ever thought, that when one had nothing but praise to offer a woman, he might safely trust to herself, and employ his time on other matters.