Mine, who I sent for this morning, and whom, for I will not conceal it from you, I consulted indirectly, is of opinion, that with persons of naturally an active disposition, this kind of sudden apathy should by no means be neglected.
He told me, moreover, disorders will not give way to remedies, when they have been neglected in the beginning.
Why then run such a hazard with one so dear to you?
It adds greatly to my uneasiness, I have not had any news of him these four days.
Good God!
I beg you will not deceive me on his state!
Why is it he has left off writing to me so suddenly?
If it was only the effect of my obstinacy in returning his letters, I believe he would have taken the resolution sooner.
Without having, however, any faith in forebodings, for these few days I have been in a most melancholy situation.
I fear I am on the eve of some great misfortune.
You cannot imagine, and I am ashamed to tell you, how much I regret not receiving those letters which I refused to read.
I was certain he at least thought of me, and saw something that came from his hands.
I did not open them, but I wept over them: my tears were softer, and flowed with more ease; they only partly dissipated the habitual oppression I experience since my return.
I conjure you, my most respectable friend, to write to me yourself as soon as you can; in the mean time, pray indulge me every day in hearing from you, and of him.
I now perceive, I have scarcely said a word to you: but you know my sentiments, my unreserved attachment, my tender gratitude, for your sincere friendship.
You will forgive my distress, my painful anguish, for dreading evils of which I am, perhaps, the cause.
Merciful God! this desponding idea pursues me and wrings my heart.
This misfortune only was wanting. I know I am born to experience them all.
Adieu, my dear friend! love me, pity me.
Shall I hear from you this day?
Paris, Oct. 16, 17—. _____
LETTER CXV.
The VISCOUNT DE VALMONT to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL. _____
It is a most unaccountable thing, my charming friend, when we are at a remote distance, we cannot so readily understand each other.
Whilst I was near you, we always had the same sentiments, and viewed every object in the same light; because I am now about three months absent, we are no longer of the same opinion on any thing.
Which of us is in the wrong?
You certainly will not hesitate in your answer: but I, more wise, or more polite, will not decide.
I shall only reply to your letter, and continue to lay my conduct open.
First, accept my thanks for the intelligence of the reports flying about me; that does not make me uneasy: I think soon I shall be furnished with materials to silence them all.
Have a little patience; I shall again appear more celebrated than ever, and more worthy of you.
I expect even they will give me credit for the affair of the little Volanges, which you affect to treat as such a trifle: as if there was no merit in carrying in one night a young girl from a favoured lover; to make use of her after as much as one chooses, even as their own property, and without any farther trouble; to obtain from her what one dare not even require from girls whose vocation it is; and all this without in the least disturbing her tender affection; without making her inconstant, or even false; for certainly I don't engage her imagination.
So that after my fancy is at an end, I will deliver her into her lover's arms, without, as I may say, her having taken notice of any thing.
Pray is that so common an exploit?
Yet believe, when she is gone from under my tuition, the principles I have instilled into her will nevertheless display themselves; and I prophesy, the timid scholar will take a flight that will do honour to her master.
If, however, they like heroics better, I will show my Presidente; this model cited for every virtue, respected even by our greatest libertines; insomuch, they had given up the idea of attacking her.
I will show her, forgetting duty and virtue, sacrificing her reputation and two years prudence to run after the happiness of pleasing me; intoxicated with love; sufficiently recompensed for so many sacrifices by a word, a look, which yet she will not always obtain.
I will do more, I will even abandon her; and if I know this woman, I shall not have a successor; she will resist the necessity of consolation; the habitude of pleasure; even the thirst for revenge: she shall have existed for me only; and let her career be long or short, I alone will have opened and shut the barrier; when once I rise to this triumph, I will tell my rivals, "that is my exploit, search the world for such an example."
You ask me whence proceeds this excessive confidence?
Why, for eight days past, I am my fair one's confidant; she does not tell me her secrets, but I come at them; two of her letters have given me sufficient information; the rest I will only read out of curiosity.
I now absolutely want nothing to crown my success but admittance, my measures are taken; I shall immediately execute them.
I think you are curious; but to punish you for not believing my intentions, you shall not know them; you really in earnest deserve I should withdraw my confidence from you, at least, for this adventure; were it not for the tender reward you have attached to its success, I would not mention it again.
You see I am vexed; however, in hopes of your amendment, I will be satisfied with this slight reprimand, and my indulgent mind for a moment, forgetting my grand project, shall employ itself on yours.
You are then in the country, dull as sentiment, and sorrowful as fidelity; and poor Belleroche, not satisfied with making him drink the waters of oblivion, you will also put him to the torture; how does he like it?
Does he bear the nausea of love well?
I would rather than a great deal he should become more attached to you; I am curious to learn what more efficacious remedy you would use; I really pity you, to have been obliged to have recourse to that.
Never did I make love but once methodically; I certainly had a strong motive, as it was with the Countess de ——; and twenty times in her arms have I been tempted to tell her,
"Madam, I renounce the place I solicit, and permit me to quit that I occupy."
Of all the women I have had, she is the only one of whom I take pleasure in speaking ill.
Your motive, I must own, is truly ridiculous, and you was right in thinking I should not guess the successor:—What, then, is it for Danceny you have taken all this trouble?
Ah, my dear friend, let him alone to adore his virtuous Cecilia, and do not commit yourself in this children's play; leave the scholars to be formed by good old women, or play with the pensioners at pretty innocent games.