Since it is usually during walks that our little rendez-vous take place, the dreadful weather we have had all day left me nothing to hope for. In fact, I was badly put out. I could not foresee how much I was to gain from this inconvenience.
We could not go for a walk, so we began playing cards as soon as we left the table. And, as I do not play very much and am no longer necessary to the game, I took the opportunity to go up to my rooms with no thought but to wait there, more or less, for the game to finish.
I was returning to join the company when I met the charming creature outside her room, and, whether it was lack of prudence or through weakness, she said in her dulcet tones: ‘Where are you going? There is no one in the drawing room.’ That was enough for me, as you may imagine, to try to enter her room. There I encountered less resistance than I was expecting. It is true I had taken the precaution of beginning the conversation at the door, and to begin it on quite a neutral topic. But scarcely had we settled down when I brought it round again to the real issue, and spoke about my love for my friend. Her first reply, though simple, seemed to me to speak volumes. ‘Oh,’ said she, ‘please do not talk of that here,’ and she was trembling. Poor woman! She foresees her imminent defeat.
Yet she was wrong to be afraid. For some time now, since I was assured of success sooner or later, and seeing her waste so much effort in this useless struggle, I had resolved to moderate my own efforts and, without my doing anything, wait for her to give herself up out of weariness. As you know, one seeks total victory in these cases, and I did not wish to put anything down to circumstance. It was precisely for this reason, and so that I could be more insistent without engaging myself too much, that I reiterated the word love, which she so obstinately refused to utter…Sure that my passion was not in doubt, I tried a gentler tone. Her refusal no longer angered but distressed me. Surely, as a sympathetic friend, she owed me some consolation?
By way of consolation, one hand was laid upon mine. Her lovely body was leaning against my arm and we were very very close to each other. I am sure you will have noticed how, in such situations, as defences gradually melt away, demands and refusals are exchanged in closer and closer proximity? Heads are averted, eyes are lowered and words, pronounced in a feeble voice, grow few and disjointed. These precious signs proclaim, without the shadow of a doubt, the heart’s consent. But rarely until this point does it pass into the realm of the senses. I even take the view that it is always risky to attempt too obvious a move at times like these, because this state of abandon is never accompanied by anything other than very sweet pleasure, and one can never force a person out of it without causing a change of mood which invariably turns to the advantage of the defence.
But in the present case prudence was all the more vital since I had to fear over and above everything the alarm that this heedlessness would be bound to cause in my beautiful dreamer. So I did not even ask her to utter the longed-for word. One look would be enough. One single look would make me a happy man.
My dear, her beautiful eyes were indeed raised to mine. The heavenly lips even uttered: ‘Well yes, I…’ But suddenly her eyes misted over, words failed, and this adorable woman fell into my arms. Hardly had I time to catch her when with a convulsive effort she pulled herself away from me and cried out distractedly: ‘God…oh my God, save me’, with her hands held out to Heaven. And immediately, in a trice, she was on her knees ten steps away from me. I could hear her almost choking. I went forward to help. But, taking hold of my hands, which she drenched with her tears, and sometimes even embracing my knees, ‘Yes,’ she cried, ‘it is you, you who will save me! You do not wish me to die: leave me, save me, leave me, in the name of God, leave me!’ And her sobs redoubled as these disjointed words came painfully out. However, she held on to me so tightly that I could not free myself; so, gathering up my strength again, I lifted her into my arms. At the same moment the tears stopped; she spoke no more; her limbs stiffened and violent convulsions followed this storm.
I admit I was deeply moved, and I believe I should have consented to her request even if circumstances had not compelled me to do so. The fact is that after coming to her aid I left her as she begged me to, and I congratulate myself on that. I have already almost obtained my reward.
I was expecting that, as on the day of my first declaration, she would not appear in the evening. But towards eight she came down into the drawing room and announced quite simply to the assembled company that she had been very unwell. Her face was drawn, her voice weak, but her bearing composed. Her eyes were soft and often rested upon me. Her reluctance to play cards having obliged me to take her place, she even sat down at my side. During supper she remained alone in the drawing room. When we returned there I thought I could discern that she had been weeping. To be certain of it, I told her I thought she was still a little unwell, to which she obligingly replied: ‘This malady will not go away as quickly as it came.’ At last, when people left, I gave her my hand and, at the door to her room, she pressed mine hard. It is true this gesture seemed to me a little involuntary, but so much the better. It is another proof of my power over her.
I wager that now she is delighted to be at this stage. All sacrifices have been made and only pleasure awaits. Perhaps, as I am writing to you right now, she is occupying herself with this sweet thought! And even if not, and she were thinking up a new strategy of defence, we both know very well what becomes of all such projects, do we not? I ask you, it cannot happen later than at our next meeting, can it? So I am definitely expecting that she will still raise some difficulties. But so be it. Can these strict devotees stop themselves once they have taken the first step? Their love is a veritable explosion. Resistance makes it even more violent. If I were to stop chasing her, my timid devotee would be running after me.
And then, my love, I shall arrive post haste at your house to make you keep your promise to me. You have surely not forgotten what you promised me after my success – that little infidelity to your Chevalier? Are you ready? As for me, I desire it as much as though we had never known one another. Besides, knowing you is perhaps a reason to desire it more:
I speak with justice not with gallantry.*4
So this will be the first time I am unfaithful to my all-important conquest. And I promise you I shall take advantage of the first pretext to leave her for twenty-four hours. That will be her punishment for having kept me away from you so long. Do you realize that this affair has been taking up more than two months of my time? Yes, two months and three days. It is true I am counting tomorrow, since it will only finally be consummated then. Which reminds me that Madame de B— resisted for three whole months. I am delighted to perceive that frank coquetterie can defend itself better than strict virtue.
Farewell, my love. I must go, for it is very late. This letter has made me run on more than I expected. But as I am sending tomorrow morning to Paris, I wanted to take advantage of it so that you could share in your friend’s joy one day earlier.
From the Chateau de —, 2 October 17**, in the evening
LETTER 100
The Vicomte de Valmont to the Marquise de Merteuil
My dear, I am tricked, betrayed, lost! I am in despair.5 Madame de Tourvel has left! She has gone without my knowledge! And I was not there to forestall her departure, to deplore this unworthy betrayal! Oh, you may be sure I should not have let her go. She would have stayed. Yes, she would have stayed even had I had to use violence towards her. But what could I have done? There I was, fast asleep, not knowing a thing. I was sleeping when the thunderbolt fell. No, I do not understand the first thing about this departure. I give up trying to understand females.
When I think about what happened yesterday! What can I say? The very same evening! That gentle look, that tender voice! And the way she squeezed my hand! And all that time she was planning her escape! Oh women, women! Can you complain if we deceive you? Every act of treachery we commit we have learned from you.
What pleasure I shall take in avenging myself! I
shall track this perfidious woman down and recover my power over her. If love on its own was enough to achieve this, what may it not do with vengeance at its side? I shall see her yet at my feet, trembling and bathed in tears, crying for mercy in that deceitful voice. And I shall be pitiless.
What is she doing at present? What is she thinking? Perhaps she is congratulating herself on playing me false? And, true to her sex, finds this pleasure the sweetest of them all? What her much-vaunted virtue has not achieved, her natural cunning has done effortlessly. Fool that I was! I was afraid of her righteousness, but it was her dishonesty I should have feared.
And to be obliged to swallow my resentment and dare to show nothing but regretful concern when my heart is filled with rage! To see myself reduced to pleading again with a rebellious woman who has escaped my dominion over her! Did I have to be humiliated so? And by whom? By a timid woman who has never in her life fought before. What good has it done me to establish myself in her heart, to have set her on fire with flames of love, to have carried her troubled senses to the point of delirium, if, secure in her refuge, she can today take more pride in her escape than I can in my victories? Shall I endure this? My friend, you cannot believe so. You cannot entertain such a humiliating idea of me!
What strange power draws me to this woman? Are there not a hundred others clamouring for my attention? Will they not rush to respond? Even if none can hold a candle to this one, the attraction of variety, the charm of new conquests, the glory in numbers, do they not offer sweet enough pleasures? Why chase after the one who flees from us and neglect those who offer themselves? Ah why? I do not know, but I feel it most grievously.
There is no more peace, no more happiness for me unless I possess this woman whom I hate and love with equal passion. I shall be able to bear my fate only when I have become master of hers. Calm and contented then, I shall see her in her turn buffeted by the storms which blow on me now, and I shall stir up a thousand more. I want all the hopes and fears, the trust and suspicion, all the ills invented by hatred, all the blessings accorded by love to fill up her heart, to succeed one another at my will. That time will come…But what a lot of work is still to be done! How close I came yesterday, and how far I am from that today! How may I draw closer to her again? I do not dare to try any manoeuvre. I feel that in order to come to a decision I must remain calm, and yet the blood is boiling in my veins.
What is making my torment so much worse is the cool manner in which everyone here replies to my questions about this incident, about the reason for it, about everything that is remarkable about it…No one knows anything, no one cares; they would scarcely have broached the subject if I had allowed them to talk about anything else. Madame de Rosemonde, to whom I flew this morning when I learned the news, replied to me with the indifference typical of her age that it was the natural consequence of Madame de Tourvel’s state of health yesterday. That she had feared she might fall ill and preferred to be at home. She sees nothing untoward in that. She would have done the same, she told me. As if those two could have anything in common! Between the one, who has nothing but death awaiting her, and the other, who is the delight and the torment of my life!
Madame de Volanges, whom I had at first suspected of being an accomplice, seems to have been affected simply by the fact that she was not consulted about this move. I admit I am glad she has not had the pleasure of doing harm to me. I also see this as proof that she is not so much in this woman’s confidence as I first feared. That is one enemy less. How she would congratulate herself if she knew I am the one she is running away from! How puffed up with pride she would be, had it been on her advice! How her self-importance would have increased! My God! How I detest her! Oh, I shall resume my relations with her daughter; I intend to do with her as I please. And so I think I shall remain here for some while. At least the few reflections I have made incline me to this course.
Do you not think, in fact, that given such unambiguous behaviour, the ungrateful woman must be afraid I shall reappear? So if she gets hold of the idea that I might follow her, her doors will be closed to me, for sure. And I do not wish her either to make a habit of that, nor do I wish to suffer the humiliation of it. I much prefer to let her know that I am remaining here. I shall even implore her to return. And when she is completely persuaded of my absence, I shall arrive on her doorstep. We shall see how she takes that meeting. But it must be put off awhile in order to increase its effect, although I do not yet know if I have the patience. Twenty times today I have opened my mouth to summon my horses. However, I shall contain myself. I promise to receive your reply here. I only ask, my love, that you do not keep me waiting for it.
What would annoy me most would be not to know what is going on. But my valet, who is in Paris, has some rights of access to the chambermaid; he could be useful to me. I am sending him my instructions and some money. I hope you will not object to me including both with this letter, and also that you will take care to send them to him by one of your servants with orders to hand them over to him in person. I am taking this precaution because the fellow has a habit of never receiving the letters I write to him when I ask him to do something he does not wish to. And for the moment he does not seem to me so taken with his conquest as I hoped he might be.
Farewell, my love. If you have a good idea, some way of hastening my affairs, let me know. More than once I have acknowledged how useful your friendship is to me. I feel it again at this moment. For I am calmer than when I began this letter. At least I am talking to someone who will listen and not to the stuffed dummies in whose company I have been vegetating ever since this morning. Truly the more I live the more tempted I am to think that you and I are the only people in the world who are worth a jot.
From the Chateau de —, 3 October 17**
LETTER 101
The Vicomte de Valmont to Azolan, his valet
(Enclosed in the previous one)
You must be a real fool, leaving here this morning not knowing that Madame de Tourvel was leaving too. Or if you did know, not coming to warn me. What is the point of you wasting my money getting drunk with the valets and spending time which you should be spending in my service, flirting with the chambermaids, if I am not to be better informed about what is going on? So much for your negligence! But I am warning you that if you make just one mistake in this present affair it will be the last one you make in my service.
You must keep me informed about everything that goes on with regard to Madame de Tourvel. Her health; whether she sleeps; if she is sad or happy; whether she often goes out and to whose house; whether she receives at home; and who goes to see her. How she spends her time. If she is out of sorts with her women servants, particularly with the one she brought here. What she does when she is on her own. Whether, when she reads, she does so uninterruptedly or breaks off to daydream. And the same when she is writing. Take care as well to make friends with the person who takes her letters to the post. Offer frequently to run this errand for him. And whenever he accepts, only post the ones which seem unimportant and send the rest to me. Especially the ones to Madame de Volanges, if you should come across any.
Make arrangements to carry on as Julie’s fond lover yet awhile. If she has someone else, as you suspect, make her agree to share her favours. And do not be so foolish as to be over-scrupulous about this. You will be in the same predicament as many others who are worth far more than you. If, however, the second makes a nuisance of himself and you notice, for example, that he is too often with Julie during the day and that she is not so often with her mistress as a result, find some means to get rid of him or pick a quarrel with him. Do not worry about the consequences; I shall stand by you. Above all, do not leave the house. By paying constant attention you will be able to observe everything and observe accurately. And if by chance any of the servants were to be dismissed, propose yourself as a replacement as though you were no longer in my service. In that case just say you have left me to look for a quieter and more well-regulated household. Anywa
y, try to get taken on. I shall still keep you in my service during this period. It will be as it was with the Duchesse de—, and eventually Madame de Tourvel will reward you equally well.
Were you endowed with enough adroitness and enthusiasm, these instructions should suffice. But in order to make sure you are not lacking in either, I am sending you money. The attached note, as you will see, authorizes you to draw twenty-five louis from my agent. For I am sure you don’t have a sou. You will use whatever is necessary from this amount to persuade Julie to enter into correspondence with me. The rest you may use to buy drinks for the servants. Take care, as far as possible, to let that happen in the janitor’s quarters so that he is glad to see you arrive. But do not forget that it is not your pleasures but your services that I wish to fund.
Make Julie acquire the habit of observing everything and telling you everything, even what might seem to her the most minute detail. It is better for her to write ten useless sentences than to omit an interesting one. Often what seems to be of no importance, is. As it is necessary for me to be informed immediately if something happens which seems to merit attention, as soon as you receive this letter you will send Philippe on the messenger’s horse to establish himself in —.* He will remain there and await further orders, as a staging post if I need him. For ordinary correspondence the post will do.
Take care you do not lose this letter. Read it again every day, as much to assure yourself you have forgotten nothing as to be sure you still have it. Do everything expected of someone honoured by my confidence. You know that if I am satisfied with you, you will be satisfied with me.
From the Chateau de —, 3 October 17**
LETTER 102
The Présidente de Tourvel to Madame de Rosemonde
You will be very surprised, Madame, at this sudden departure of mine. This move will seem most extraordinary to you. But you will be doubly surprised when you learn the reasons for it! You may think I have not paid enough attention to the peace and quiet necessary to someone of your years; even that I am ignoring those feelings of respect and admiration due to you on so many counts. Forgive me, Madame. My heart is heavy and I must slake my grief in the bosom of a friend who is both gentle and wise. And whom should I choose but you? Look upon me as your child. Show me the kindness of a mother. I do perhaps have a right to this through my feelings for you.
Dangerous Liaisons Page 27
