The circumstances were not favourable. Vressac has been silly enough to get on the wrong side of the Vicomte, so the Vicomtesse cannot receive him any longer. And this trip to the good Comtesse had been planned between the pair of them to try to steal a few nights together. At first the Vicomte was rather put out by finding Vressac there; but, as his interest in hunting is stronger than his jealousy, he stayed. And the Comtesse, in her usual fashion, after having settled the wife in a room off the long corridor, put the husband on one side of her and the lover on the other, and let them sort it out between them. Unfortunately for them both, I had the bedroom opposite.
That very same day, that is to say, yesterday, Vressac who, as you may imagine, likes to keep the Vicomte sweet, was hunting with him, in spite of not caring very much for it, and was looking forward to making up for the boredom of being with the husband all day by lying in the arms of his wife at night. But I decided he should have some rest after his exertions and set to thinking up ways of persuading his mistress to allow him time for that.
I succeeded, and managed to obtain her consent that she would pick a quarrel with him about that same hunting expedition which, of course, he had only agreed to because of her. You could not have hit upon a worse pretext. But there is no one more talented than the Vicomtesse at substituting a bad mood for reasoned argument – though all women do it – and at never being so hard to appease as when she is in the wrong. Anyway, it was not the time for arguments. And only wanting one night I consented to them making it up the next day.
So she was in a sulk with Vressac when he came back. He wanted to know why, and she picked a quarrel with him. He attempted to stand up for himself, but the husband was present, which served her as an excuse to bring the conversation to a halt. So he tried to take advantage of a moment when the husband was not there to ask her if she would see him in the evening. It was then that the Vicomtesse surpassed herself. She railed at the audacity of men who, because they have won a woman’s favours, believe they always have a right to them, even when she has reason to complain about their behaviour. And, skilfully changing the subject, she talked so eloquently on the subject of delicacy and sensibility that Vressac remained confused and tongue-tied. Even I was inclined to believe she was right. For as you know I am a friend of both and was party to their conversation.
Finally she roundly declared that she would not add the fatigues of love to those of hunting, and that she would feel guilty if she were to spoil such agreeable pleasures. The husband came in. Vressac was desolated, being no longer at liberty to reply, and addressed himself to me. And after he had at length expounded his arguments, which I knew as well as he did, he begged me to talk to the Vicomtesse, and I promised I would. I did indeed speak to her. But only to thank her, and fix the time and place for our rendez-vous.
She told me that since her room was in between her husband’s and Vressac’s she had thought it was more prudent to go to Vressac’s room than to receive him in hers. And since I was in the room opposite, she thought it was safer to come to my room. She would come as soon as her chambermaid left her; I only had to leave my door ajar and wait.
Everything happened as we had agreed. And she arrived in my room at about one in the morning,
…wearing no more
Than beauty snatched from sleep would wear.*15
As I am not a vain man I shall not linger over the night’s details. But you know me, and I was satisfied with my performance.
At dawn we had to separate. And this is where it begins to get interesting. The silly woman thought she had left her door ajar, but we found it shut with the key inside. You cannot imagine the first desperate words of the Vicomtesse: ‘Oh no! I am ruined.’ It must be said it would have been rather amusing to leave her in this situation. But could I allow a woman to be ruined on my account, and I not do the ruining? And should I, like most men, allow myself to be overcome by circumstance? I had to find a stratagem. What would you have done, my love? This is what I did, and it succeeded.
I soon realized that the door in question could be broken open, as long as it did not matter if we made a noise. I therefore persuaded the Vicomtesse, not without some difficulty, that she should utter fearful piercing cries such as Stop thief! Murder! etc., etc. And we agreed that at the first shout I would break down the door, and she would leap into bed. You would not believe how long it was before she could bring herself to do it even after she had agreed. But in the end there was no other possibility, and the door gave way at the first kick.
The Vicomtesse did well not to waste any time. For at the same instant the Vicomte and Vressac were in the corridor; and the chambermaid came running without delay to her mistress’s bedroom.
I was the only one to preserve my composure, and I took advantage of it to go and extinguish a nightlight which was still burning and knock it over. For you can see how ridiculous it would have looked to simulate panic and terror with the light still on. I then scolded the husband and the lover for their lethargy, assuring them that I had come running as soon as I heard the shouting and my efforts to kick the door down had lasted a full five minutes.
The Vicomtesse who, back in bed, had recovered her courage, once more ably backed me up, and swore to God there had been a thief in her room. She protested, with greater sincerity, that she had never been so frightened in her whole life. We hunted everywhere but found nothing. Then I called the overturned nightlight to everyone’s attention and concluded that a rat must have caused the damage and the alarm. My opinion was echoed by everyone, and after the usual old chestnuts about rats,16 the Vicomte was the first to return his room and his bed, begging his wife in future to keep rats of a more peaceable temperament.
Vressac remained, and approached the Vicomtesse to tell her tenderly that it was Love’s revenge; to which she answered, with a glance in my direction: ‘He must have been very angry then, because he took his revenge many times over. But,’ she added, ‘I am exhausted and I wish to sleep.’
I was feeling well-disposed towards everyone. Consequently before we separated I pleaded Vressac’s cause and brought about a reconciliation. The two lovers kissed and I was kissed by them both in turn. I was no longer interested in the Vicomtesse’s kisses, but I admit that I took pleasure in Vressac’s. We left together. And once I had received his lengthy expressions of gratitude we each went back to our beds.
If you find this story amusing, I shall not insist you keep it secret. Now I have had my laugh it is only fair that the public should have its turn. For the moment I am only talking about the plot; perhaps soon we shall say the same of its heroine?
Farewell, my valet has been waiting for an hour. I shall only take one moment to kiss you and urge you above all to beware of Prévan.
From the Chateau de —, 13 September 17**
LETTER 72
The Chevalier Danceny to Cécile Volanges
(Not delivered until the 14th)
Oh Cécile! How I envy Valmont! He will be seeing you tomorrow. It is he who will give you this letter, whereas I, languishing far away, shall drag out my cruel existence in sorrow and misery. My love, my darling, pity my misfortunes, but especially pity me for yours. It is in the face of those that my courage deserts me.
How terrible it is for me to have brought about your unhappiness! Without me you would be happy and at peace. Can you forgive me? Tell me, oh tell me you forgive me. Tell me as well that you love me and that you always will. I need to be told again and again. It is not that I do not believe you. But it seems to me that the more certain one is, the sweeter those words are. You do love me, don’t you? Yes, you love me with all your heart and soul. I have not forgotten that those were the last words I heard you utter. How I took them to my heart! How deeply they are engraved there! And with what rapture my heart responded!
Alas! At that happy moment, I was far from seeing what dreadful fate awaited us. My Cécile, let us try to find ways of making it more bearable. All that is needed to achieve this, if I am to believ
e my friend, is that you place in him the trust which he deserves.
I must admit I was pained that you appeared to think so badly of him. I detected your Mamma’s prejudices there. It was in order to bow to your mother’s opinion that I neglected this truly kind man who has done so much for me for so long; he is working to bring us together, whereas your Mamma has torn us apart. I beseech you, my darling, try to look upon him more favourably. Remember he is my friend, he wants to be yours, and it is in his power to give me back the happiness of seeing you again. If these reasons do not persuade you, Cécile my love, you do not love me as much as I love you, you do not love me as much as you did love me. Oh, if ever you were to love me less…But no, my Cécile’s heart belongs to me until I die. And if I have to fear the pain of an unhappy love, her constancy will save me at least from the torments of a love betrayed.
Farewell, my dearest. Do not forget that I am suffering, and that it is you, and you alone, who can make me happy, perfectly happy. Hear the avowal of my heart and accept the most tender kisses love can bestow.
Paris, this 11 September 17**
LETTER 73
The Vicomte de Valmont to Cécile Volanges
(Included in the preceding letter)
The friend who is at your service has learned you have no writing materials, and has already made provision for you. You will find in the large cupboard on the left, in the antechamber of the room you are occupying, a stock of paper, pens and ink; he will replenish them whenever you wish, and believes it would be best to leave them in that same place if you do not find a safer one.
He asks you not to take offence if he appears to pay you scant attention in company, and to treat you as a mere child. This behaviour appears to him necessary. It will give him the security he needs to work more safely and effectively for his friend’s happiness and yours. He will try to engineer opportunities to speak to you when he has something to tell or give you, and if you put all your efforts into supporting him he has every hope of success.
He also advises you to give him back the letters you receive as they arrive, so that you will run less risk of being compromised.
He concludes by assuring you that if you place your trust in him, he will do everything in his power to alleviate the over-harsh persecution inflicted by a mother upon two people, one of whom is already his dearest friend, and the other who would seem to merit the most affectionate interest.
In the Chateau de —, 14 September 17**
LETTER 74
The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont
Since when have you been so easily frightened off, my friend? Is this Prévan really so very terrifying? You see how simple and unassuming I am, for I have come across this Casanova many times and yet I have scarcely given him a glance! It took your letter to bring him to my notice. I put this right yesterday. He was at the Opera, almost opposite me, and I paid him careful attention. He is certainly good-looking, very good-looking. Such fine, delicate features! He must surely be seen to advantage at close quarters. And you say he is pursuing me! He would surely be doing me an honour and a pleasure. Seriously I dream of it, and I may as well tell you now that I have made the first move. I don’t know whether it will succeed, but this is what happened.
He was standing right next to me on our way out of the Opera when in a very loud voice I told the Marquise de — I would meet her for supper on the Friday at the Maréchale’s. I believe it is the only house where I am likely to meet him. I am certain he heard me…Supposing the rogue were not to turn up? Tell me, do you think he will come? If he does not, I can tell you I shall be in a bad mood all evening. You will see he will not find it so very hard to catch me. And what will surprise you more is that he will find it even less hard to please me. So he says he wants to ride six horses into the ground running after me! Oh, I shall spare their lives, those horses. I shall never be patient enough to wait that long. As you know, on principle I do not make anyone wait once my mind is made up, and I have made up mine about him.
So admit there is some pleasure to be had in talking seriously with me! Your important advice is a great success, is it not? But what do you expect? I have been here twiddling my thumbs for so long! I have not allowed myself any fun for six weeks! Then this comes along. Can I say no? Is he not worth it? Is there any more agreeable fun, in whatever sense you take the word?
You yourself are obliged to give him his due. You do more than praise him; you are jealous of him. Well, I shall be the judge of you both. But first I need to acquaint myself with the facts, and that is what I intend to do. I shall be your impartial judge, and you shall both be weighed in the same balance. As far as you are concerned the case is already well-documented and perfectly prepared. Is it not fair that at present I busy myself with your adversary? Come now, do not be difficult. To start with, tell me about this ‘triple adventure’ and its hero. You talk as though I was perfectly au courant when I do not know the first thing about it. Apparently it all happened during my journey to Geneva, and your jealousy prevented you from writing to me about it. Repair this omission as soon as possible. Remember that nothing that concerns him is strange to me.17 I seem to recall they were still talking about it when I got back. But I was busy doing something else, and I rarely listen to news of this sort when it is more than two days old.
If what I am asking you annoys you a little, is it not a very small price to pay for the trouble I have taken on your behalf? Was it not I who reconciled you to your Présidente when your stupid behaviour had wrenched you apart? And was it not I who placed within your grasp the means to avenge yourself for the zealous harshness of Madame de Volanges? You have often complained about the time you waste looking for adventures! At present you have them to hand. Love, hate, you have only to choose, everything under the same roof. And you can live two lives: stroke softly with one hand, strike hard with the other.
You even owe your affair with the Vicomtesse to me. That pleases me well enough, but, as you say, it should be talked about. For if in the circumstances you incline, as I suppose, to keep quiet rather than boast about it, yet you must agree this woman does not deserve to be treated so considerately.
Moreover, I have reason to complain about her. The Chevalier de Belleroche thinks her prettier than I could wish. And there are many reasons why I should be very happy to have an excuse to break off relations with her. Now there is no more convenient excuse than to have to say: one cannot possibly see that woman any longer.
Farewell, Vicomte; remember that in your position time is precious. I am going to devote mine to making Prévan happy.
Paris, 15 September 17**
LETTER 75
Cécile Volanges to Sophie Carnay
(In this letter Cécile Volanges goes into great detail about everything concerning her in the events the reader has encountered in Letter 59 and those following. We felt it better to avoid repetition. At the end of the letter she talks about the Vicomte de Valmont thus:)
I do assure you he is a most remarkable man. Mamma does not have a good word to say about him, but the Chevalier Danceny sings his praises and I believe he is the one who is right. I have never seen such a clever man. When he gave me back Danceny’s letter it was in full view of everyone, and nobody noticed anything. I was really scared because I did not know what to expect. But from now on I shall. I have already understood exactly what he wants me to do when I give him my reply. He is very easy to understand because his eyes speak volumes. I don’t know how he does it. In the note I was telling you about he said he would appear not to be taking any notice of me in front of Mamma, and you would think, in fact, that it never crossed his mind. Yet every time I look at him I am certain of meeting his eyes straight away.
There is a good friend of Mamma’s here, whom I did not know before, who also seems as if she does not care greatly for Monsieur de Valmont, although he is most attentive to her. I am afraid he may very soon become bored with the life we lead here and return to Paris. That would be most disap
pointing. He must be exceedingly good-hearted to come on purpose to render a service to his friend and me! I should like to show him how grateful I am, but I don’t know how to find a way of speaking to him. And even if I found the opportunity, I should be so embarrassed I probably would not know what to say.
When I speak of my love I can really only talk freely with Madame de Merteuil. Perhaps I should be embarrassed about talking of it even with you, to whom I tell everything. With Danceny himself I have often felt, in spite of myself, a certain timidity which prevented me saying all I wished. I regret that now, and would give anything in the world to find the opportunity to tell him once, just once, how much I love him. Monsieur de Valmont has promised him that if I do as he asks he will procure the chance for us to see each other again. I shall do whatever he says; but I cannot imagine it will be possible.
Farewell, my friend, I have run out of space.*
From the Chateau de —, 14 September 17**
LETTER 76
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil
Either you are teasing me in your letter and I have misunderstood; or else you were seriously deranged when you wrote it. If I did not know you as well as I do, my dear, I should be very frightened indeed. And whatever you may say, I am not one to be so easily frightened.
Though I have read and re-read it, I can make no headway. For your letter cannot possibly be taken at face value. So what did you mean?
Is it simply that you felt you need not trouble to guard yourself against such a feeble adversary? If you believe that, then you are wrong. Prévan is actually a very likeable man, more likeable than you might suppose. In particular he has a knack, which is very useful to him, of involving everyone else in his love life by the skilful weaving of the subject into the conversation, in everyone’s hearing, at any opportunity. Only very few women do not fall into the trap of responding, for they all wish to be thought very discerning, and not one of them is inclined to lose the chance of showing it. Now, as you very well know, a woman who consents to discuss matters of the heart soon ends up falling in love, or at least behaving as though she were. And more often than not with this tactic, which he really has perfected, he is able to call upon the women themselves to witness their own defeat. And I know what I am talking about because I have seen it happen.
Dangerous Liaisons Page 18
