What, would you instruct a novice who neither knows how to take or leave you, for whom you must do every thing?
I tell you seriously, I disapprove your choice; and let it be ever so secret, it will humble you in my mind, and your own conscience.
You say you have taken a great liking to him; for shame! you certainly deceive yourself. I think I have discovered the cause of your error; this fine disgust for Belleroche happened at a time of scarcity, and Paris not offering any choice, your lively ideas fixed on the first object they met; but remember, at your return you may choose among a thousand; and if you dread the inaction you risk falling into in deferring your choice, I offer myself for your amusement at your leisure hours.
From this time until your arrival, my great affairs will be determined one way or other; certainly neither the little Volanges, nor the Presidente even, will employ me so much, but I may devote myself to you as much as you wish; perhaps even before that time, I may have delivered the little one into the hands of her discreet lover.
Say what you please, which I don't agree to, that it is not an attaching enjoyment, as I intended she should ever retain an idea of me superior to all the rest of mankind, I assumed such a tone with her as I could not support long without prejudice to my health; and from this moment I am no longer hers only for family duty.
You don't understand me; I mean I wait a second period to confirm my hopes, and give me full assurance I have amply succeeded in my scheme.
Yes, my dear friend, I have already a first indication that my scholar's husband will not die without posterity, and the chief of the house of Gercourt will be a younger brother of that of Valmont.
But let me finish to my own liking this business which I undertook at your request: remember if you make Danceny inconstant, you deprive the adventure of its poignancy.
Consider also, in offering myself to you, I have a right to a preference.
I depend so much upon it, I was not afraid to counteract your designs in even assisting to increase the tender passion of the discreet lover, for the first and worthy object of his choice.
Having yesterday found your pupil writing to him, and disturbed her in this pleasing task, for another still more pleasing: I afterwards desired to see the letter; as it was too cold and constrained, I made her sensible it was not thus she should console her lover, and made her write another which I dictated; where, imitating her nonsense as well as I could, I endeavoured to feed the young man's passion by more certain hopes; the little, creature was overjoyed, she said, to find she wrote so well, and hereafter I should hold the correspondence.
What have I not done for this Danceny!
I have been at once his friend, his confidant, his rival, and his mistress; even at this instant, I am endeavouring to save him from your dangerous toils: ay, dangerous; for to possess, and then lose you, is purchasing a moment's happiness with an eternity of regret.
Adieu, my lovely friend! muster up resolution to dispatch Belleroche as soon as possible; think no more of Danceny; and prepare to again find and return me the delicious pleasures of our first connection.
P. S.
I congratulate you on the approaching decision of your great cause; I should be very happy this event should occur during my reign.
Oct. 19, 17—. _____
LETTER CXVI.
CHEVALIER DANCENY to CECILIA VOLANGES. _____
Madame de Merteuil set out this morning for the country; thus am I deprived, my charming Cecilia; of my only remaining consolation in your absence, of conversing of you with our mutual friend: she has given me leave for some time past to distinguish her by that title; I accepted it the more eagerly, as it has something the appearance of drawing me nearer to you; she is a most amiable woman, and knows how to add the most attractive charms to friendship:—It would seem as if this pleasing sensation was embellished and strengthened in her the more, for what she refuses to love.
You cannot imagine how much she loves you; how pleased she is to hear me speak of you: it is this certainly that attaches me so much to her.
What happiness, to exist only for you both! to make such sudden transitions from the ecstasy of love, to the charms of friendship; to devote my life to it; to be in some measure the point of re-union to your reciprocal attachment; to be convinced the happiness of the one is also that of the other.
You cannot, my charming Cecilia, love this adorable woman too much: add to my attachment for her, by sharing it with me.
Now I experience the charms of friendship, I wish you also to taste them; I think no enjoyment complete you do not partake of: Yes, my dear Cecilia, I wish to inspire you with all the tender sentiments; that every idea should convey happiness to you; and would still think I returned you only a portion of the felicity I have received from you.
Alas! those enchanting dreams are only the pleasing fancies of imagination, and reality only offers me mortifying privations.
I now plainly see I must give up the flattering hope of seeing you in the country: my sole consolation is endeavouring to be persuaded you cannot accomplish it, and you do not choose to afflict me more by informing me of it; twice already have I lamented this disappointment, and received no reply:—Ah!
Cecilia, I really believe you love me with your whole soul, but your heart is not so ardent as mine.
If the obstacles were left to me to be removed, or my own interests to be managed instead of yours, I would soon convince you nothing was impossible to love.
You do not inform me even when this cruel absence is to be at an end: here surely I can see you; your enchanting looks would revive my sorrowful heart which is almost totally depressed: forgive, my dear Cecilia, my fears, they are not suspicious; I place implicit faith in your love, in your constancy; I should be too miserable, had I any doubts; but so many obstacles still renewed—I am, my dear, very much dejected:—Madame de Merteuil's departure has renewed all my sorrows.
Adieu, my dear Cecilia, adieu!—Remember your lover is in affliction, and you only can make him happy.
Paris, Oct. 17, 17—. _____
LETTER CXVII.
CECILIA VOLANGES to the CHEVALIER DANCENY. (Dictated by Valmont.) _____
Do you think my dear friend there is any necessity to be angry with me to make me melancholy, when I know you to be in affliction; and do you think I have not my share of sufferings as well as you?
I even partake of those I am obliged to give you; and still you are unjust. I see plainly what puts you out of temper; it is because I was silent to the two requisitions you made to me here; do you think an answer to it is so easy to give?
Do you think I do not know what you want is not right?
And if I am so distressed to refuse you at such a distance, how would it be if you was here?
Then again I must be afflicted all my life for giving you a moments consolation.
I hide nothing from you, I give you my reasons, you may judge for yourself; I should perhaps have done what you wish, had it not been for what I wrote you, that M. de Gercourt, who is the cause of all our trouble, will not come so soon; and as mama is greatly pleased with me now, I caress her as much as possible; who knows what I may bring her to: if we could be happy without having any thing to reproach myself with, surely it would be much better.
If I am to believe what I have often heard, that men, when they have loved their wives before marriage, do not love them so much after; the dread of that restrains me more than any thing:—Are you not sure of my heart, and will there not be always time enough.
I promise you, if I cannot avoid marrying M. de Gercourt, who I already hate without knowing him, nothing shall prevent me from being yours as much as I can, even before any thing, as I do not mind being loved by any but you:—you will see if I act wrong it shall not be my fault; the rest is indifferent to me, provided you promise to love me always as much as you do now:—but until then let me be as I am; and do not ask a thing I have good reasons not to do, and am vexed to refuse you.
I would likewise be very glad M. de Valmont would not be so pressing on your account, which only makes me more unhappy: he is your very good friend I assure you; he does every thing as you would do yourself; but adieu, my dear friend! it was late when I began to write, and spent a good part of the night at it.
I am going to bed to retrieve the time I lost.
I embrace you; but do not scold me any more.
Castle of ——, Oct. 18, 17—. _____
LETTER CXVIII.
CHEVALIER DANCENY to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL. _____
If I am to credit my almanack, my charming friend, you are absent only two days; but my heart tells me it is an age.
According to your own doctrine then, the heart must always be believed.
It is time you should return: surely your affairs should be finished by this time.