Dangerous Liaisons

by Choderlos De Laclos

  First, I must thank you for your warning that there are rumours going round about me. But I have no anxieties on that score yet. I am sure that I shall soon be in a position to put a stop to them. Do not worry. When I reappear in society I shall be more famous than before and ever more worthy of you.

  I hope my affair with the little Volanges girl, which you seem to think so negligible, will count for something. As though it were nothing in the space of one evening to carry off a young girl from the lover she adores; to use her as much as ever I like, with no problems, and absolutely as though she were my property; to obtain from her what one does not even dare to demand from any lady whose métier it is;19 and to do it without upsetting her tender love in the slightest, without making her inconstant or even unfaithful. For you are quite right, her head is not full of me! And when my whim has passed I shall put her back, so to speak, in the arms of her lover without her noticing anything. Is that such a common feat? And, believe me, once she is out of my hands, the ideas I have given her will go on developing. I predict that the shy little schoolgirl will soon spread her wings in a manner that will do honour to her master.

  However, if people prefer something in the heroic mode, I shall exhibit the Présidente, that paragon of virtue, respected by even the most libertine among us! And so virtuous, indeed, that everyone has given up all notion of attacking her! I shall exhibit her, I repeat, as a woman who has forgotten duty and virtue, sacrificing her reputation and two years of prudent behaviour in order to pursue the happiness of pleasing me, to become intoxicated with the pleasure of falling in love with me. She will think herself sufficiently compensated for so many sacrifices by a word or a look, which, it must be said, she will not always obtain. I shall do more than this; I shall leave her. And I shall not have a successor, or I do not know this woman. She will resist the need for consolation, the habit of pleasure, even the desire for revenge. Indeed, she will have existed only for me and, however long her career, I alone will have opened and closed the barrier. Once having achieved this triumph, I shall say to my rivals: ‘Look at my handiwork and see if you can find another example of it in our time!’

  You will ask me where this sudden excess of confidence comes from. It is that for the last week I have known what my beauty is thinking. She does not tell me her secrets, but I find them out. Two letters from her to Madame de Rosemonde have given me enough information, and I shall read the others only out of curiosity. Absolutely all I have to do in order to succeed is to see her again and I have found the means. I shall put this in train straight away.

  I suppose you are curious?…But no, in order to punish you for believing me uninventive, I shall not tell you. Seriously, you deserve to have me keep things from you at least inasmuch as this affair is concerned. In fact, without the delicious reward you have promised me at the successful outcome of this adventure, I should not speak of it any longer. You see how cross I am. However, in the hope that you will mend your ways, I will content myself with inflicting this slight punishment. And reverting to indulgent mode, I shall put aside my grand projects for the time being in order to discuss yours with you.

  So you are out there in the country, which must be as dreary as sentiment and depressing as fidelity itself! And poor old Belleroche! Not content with forcing him to drink the waters of Lethe, you are putting him on the rack. How is he taking it? Is he able to bear the surfeit of love? I would so much enjoy it if that made him become even more attached to you. I am curious to see what more effective remedy you might find to administer. I am truly sorry for you that you have had to resort to this one. I have only made love in cold blood once in my life. And then it was surely for a very good reason, since it was to the Comtesse de —; and a score of times when she was in my arms I was tempted to say: ‘Madam, I renounce the position I solicited; kindly allow me to leave the one I am now occupying.’ So among all the women I have had she is the only one of whom I take pleasure in speaking ill.

  As to your own motives, I find them, if I am honest, extraordinarily absurd. You were right in thinking I should not have guessed who Belleroche’s successor was. What! Can it be for Danceny that you are going to all that trouble? Dearest, for goodness’ sake, leave him to adore his virtuous Cécile and do not compromise yourself with these childish games. Allow schoolboys to receive their education from housemaids or play at innocent little games with convent girls. Why burden yourself with a novice who will not know how to take you or leave you, and with whom you will have to make all the running? I tell you frankly, I disapprove of your choice, and however secret it remains it will humiliate you at least in my eyes and in your own conscience.

  You say you are developing a strong liking for him. Come now, you must be mistaken and I think I have even worked out the reason. This fine distaste for Belleroche has come upon you in a time of famine, and with Paris not there to offer you a choice, as usual, your too lively imagination has lit upon the first object it has encountered. But just think, on your return you will be able to make your choice from among thousands. And if you are afraid that by putting things off you will risk being too inactive, I offer myself for your amusement in your leisure hours.

  Between now and your arrival my important business will be finished, one way or another. And surely neither the little Volanges girl nor the Présidente herself will by that time be occupying me so much that I could not be at your disposal as often as you wish. It may even be that between now and then I shall already have placed the girl back into the arms of her discreet lover. Though, despite what you say, I cannot agree with you that it is not a pleasure which makes one grow more fond; I intend her to view me throughout her whole life as someone who is superior to all other men, but my behaviour with her has been such that I should not manage to keep this up for very long without damaging my health. And from this moment on I no longer care for her except in as far as family obligations require…

  Do you understand what I am saying? I am waiting for a second cycle to confirm my hopes20 and make me certain I have entirely succeeded in my plans. Yes, my love, I already have the first indication that my pupil’s husband will not run the risk of dying without descendants. And that the head of the future house of Gercourt will be just a younger son of the house of Valmont. But allow me to finish this affair in my own way, for I only took her on because you begged me to. Remember that if you cause Danceny to be inconstant you will deprive the story of all interest. Consider, finally, that by offering myself as his representative I am owed, in my opinion, preferential treatment.

  So confident am I that this will be forthcoming, I shall not hesitate to obstruct your plans and am working instead towards increasing the tender passion of the discreet lover for the first and most worthy person of his choice. So, having yesterday discovered your pupil busy writing to him, and having interrupted this sweet occupation to replace it with a sweeter one still, I asked her afterwards if I might see her letter. And finding it cold and constrained, I made her realize that that was no way to console her lover, and persuaded her to write another one at my dictation, in which, imitating her nonsense as best I could, I attempted to encourage the young man’s love with a more certain hope. The girl was absolutely delighted, she said, to find she could write so well. So henceforth the correspondence will be my responsibility. What shall I not have done for this man Danceny? I shall have been at one and the same time his confidant, rival and mistress! And what is more, at this moment I am doing him the service of keeping him out of your dangerous clutches. Yes, I mean dangerous. For to possess you and then lose you is to purchase a moment’s happiness with an eternity of regrets.

  Farewell, my love. Have the courage to dispatch Belleroche as soon as you can. Leave Danceny alone, and prepare to rediscover and renew the delicious pleasures of our first liaison.

  P.S. My compliments on the impending decision in the important court case. I should be very pleased for this happy event to take place under my regime.

  From the Chateau de —, 19 Oct
ober 17**

  LETTER 116

  The Chevalier Danceny to Cécile Volanges

  Madame de Merteuil has left for the country this morning and so, my charming Cécile, I am deprived of the only pleasure remaining to me in your absence, that of talking about you to your friend and mine. For some time now she has allowed me to call her friend. And I was all the more eager to do that because it seemed that by this means I could draw closer to you. Heavens, what a lovely woman! And with what flattering charm she cloaks her friendship! It seems that this sweet sentiment becomes stronger and more beautiful the more she refuses her love. If you knew how much she loves you, and how she loves to hear me talk about you!…That is undoubtedly what binds me to her so closely. What joy to be able to live only for you two, to pass continually from the delights of love to the sweetness of friendship, to consecrate my whole life to it, to be in some way the point of contact of your mutual attachment; and to feel always that in concerning myself with the happiness of the one I should be labouring equally for the happiness of the other! I hope you will love her, my dear; I hope you will love her very much. She is an adorable woman. The attachment I have for her will be given still more value by your sharing in it. Since experiencing the charms of friendship I wish you to experience them too. The pleasures that I do not share with you I feel I only half enjoy. Yes, my Cécile, I should like to fill your heart with all the sweetest feelings; I should like each emotion to make you experience a new sensation of happiness; but I should nevertheless believe I could only ever give you back a fraction of the happiness I have received from you.

  Why should these delightful projects be nothing but a dream, and reality offer me the very opposite, only painful and endless privation? I can see I must abandon the hopes you have given me of seeing you in the country. The only consolation I have left is to persuade myself that in fact it is impossible for you. But you neglect to tell me of it, to share my suffering! My reproaches have twice already remained unanswered. Oh Cécile! Cécile, I believe you love me with all your heart and soul, but your soul does not burn like mine! If only it were my task to remove the obstacles! Why is it not my interests that are in need of managing rather than yours? I should then soon be able to prove to you that nothing is impossible in love.

  You do not say either when this cruel separation is to be at an end. At least here perhaps I might see you. Your charming eyes would revive my vanquished soul. Their tender look would comfort a heart which is at times in need of reassurance. Forgive me, Cécile. This fear is not a suspicion. I believe in your love, in your constancy. Oh, I should be so unhappy if I was unsure of that. But there are so many obstacles! More and more! My love, I am sad, so sad. It seems that this departure of Madame de Merteuil has reawakened in me all my feelings of unhappiness.

  Farewell, my Cécile. Farewell, my beloved. Remember that your lover is suffering, and that you alone can give him back his happiness.

  Paris, 17 October 17**

  LETTER 117

  Cécile Volanges to the Chevalier Danceny

  (Dictated by Valmont)

  Do you really believe, my dear, that I need scolding for being sad when I know how upset you are? And do you doubt that I am suffering as much as you are, with all your woes? I share even the ones I cause you knowingly. And I have more to put up with than you because you are not being fair to me. Oh, that is not kind of you. I can see what makes you cross. It is that the last two times you asked to come here I did not answer your request. But is that answer such an easy one to give? Do you think I do not know that what you want is very wrong? And yet if I already have so much pain in refusing you when you are at a distance, what would it be like if you were there? In wishing to afford you momentary consolation I should suffer for the rest of my life.

  Let me tell you that I have nothing to hide from you. Here are my reasons; be the judge of them yourself. I would perhaps have done what you want, were it not, as I have told you, that Monsieur de Gercourt, the cause of all our worries, will not be arriving as soon as expected. And, as Mamma has been much nicer to me lately and I for my part am doing what I can to please her, who knows what I may not be able to obtain from her? And if we could be happy without me having anything to reproach myself for, would that not be a great deal better? If I am to believe what everyone tells me all the time, men love their wives less when the wives have loved them too much before marriage. This fear holds me back even more than all the rest. My dear, are you not sure of my heart, and will there not always be time?

  Listen, I promise you that if I cannot avoid the ill fortune of marrying Monsieur de Gercourt, whom I heartily detest before I even make his acquaintance, nothing will keep me from being entirely yours, first and foremost. As my only concern is that you will love me, and that you see that if I do anything wrong it will not be my fault, then I don’t mind at all about anything else as long as you promise me you will always love me as much as you do now. But until then, my friend, let me continue as I am. And do not ask me any more for something I have good reason not to do, especially when it makes me sorry to have to refuse.

  I could also wish that Monsieur de Valmont were not so pressing on your behalf. That only adds to my difficulties. Oh, you have there a very good friend, I assure you! He does everything just as you would yourself.21 But farewell, my dear friend. I have started writing to you very late and have spent half the night doing it. I’m going to bed to make up for lost time. I send you my love, but do not scold me any more.

  From the Chateau de —, 18 October 17**

  LETTER 118

  The Chevalier Danceny to the Marquise de Merteuil

  If I am to believe my diary, my beloved friend, you have only been away for two days. But if I believe my heart, it is two centuries. Now I have it from yourself, it is always the heart that one must go by. So it is high time you returned, for all your business must be more than complete. How can you expect me to take an interest in your lawsuit if, win or lose, I must pay the costs in boredom at your absence? Oh, I am minded to pick a quarrel with you! How sad it is, when I have such good reason to be cross, that I have no right to show it!

  But is it not indeed a true infidelity, a base treachery, to leave your friend behind after rendering him incapable of doing without you? You may consult your lawyers in vain, for they will find no justification for this wicked procedure. And then, those people only deal in arguments, and arguments will not do to answer feelings.

  As for me, you have so frequently said that you were making this trip for a reason that you have made me absolutely fall out with reason. I will not listen to reason. Not even when it tells me to forget you. And yet that reason is very reasonable. In fact, it would not be so hard as you might think. I should only need to get out of the habit of thinking about you the whole time. And there is nothing here, I can assure you, to remind me of you.

  Our prettiest women, the ones people say are the most attractive, are still so far beneath you that they can only give the very faintest notion of the being you are. I even believe that, with a practised eye, the more one might have thought they were like you, the more one would find afterwards they were different. Whatever they do, whatever arts they may employ, they still fail to be you, and that is positively your charm. Unfortunately when the days are so long, and one has not much to do, one dreams, one builds castles in Spain, one creates one’s fantasies. Gradually the imagination takes over. One wishes to embellish one’s work and, gathering up everything that would give pleasure, one finally arrives at perfection. And as soon as that happens the portrait recalls the model, and one is surprised to see that one has done nothing but think of you.

  At this very moment I am the victim of a more or less similar mistake. Perhaps you believe that it was in order to think about you that I began this letter? Not at all. It was to stop myself thinking about you. I had a hundred things to tell you, which did not have to do with you, but which, as you know, are of the greatest concern to me. Those are what I have been distracted from. An
d since when have the delights of friendship distracted one from the delights of love? Oh, if I looked into that more closely, perhaps I would have reason to blame myself a little! But hush! Let us forget this trifling fault for fear of committing it again. Let my lady remain unaware of it.

  So why are you not there to answer me, to bring me back when I go astray, to talk about my Cécile, to increase, if that were possible, the happiness that I find in loving her by the sweet idea that it is your friend I love? Yes, I admit it, the love she inspires in me has become even more precious to me since you have been so good as to let me talk to you about it. I so much love to open my heart to you, to tell you my feelings, to pour them out to you! It seems to me that the more you deign to listen, the more I treasure them. And then I look at you and I think: ‘It is in her that my entire happiness is contained.’

  I have nothing new to tell you about my situation. The last letter I received from her increased and confirmed my hopes, but puts off their fulfilment. However, her motives are so kind and honourable that I cannot blame her for them or complain. Perhaps you do not quite understand what I am saying? Oh, why are you not here? Although one can say anything to one’s friend, one dares not write everything down. The secrets of love especially are so delicate that one cannot let them out just like that. If sometimes one allows them to appear, one must not at least allow them to be lost sight of. One must, in a sense, see them safely to their new home. Oh, come back, my adorable friend. You see how necessary your return is. So forget the thousand reasons which keep you where you are, or teach me how to live wherever you are not.

  Respectfully yours, etc.

  Paris, 19 October 17**

  LETTER 119

  Madame de Rosemonde to the Présidente de Tourvel