Viscount Valmont _to the_ Presidente de Tourvel.
(_Post mark from Dijon._)
Your severity, Madam, increases daily; and permit me to say, you seem
to dread more being indulgent than unjust. After passing judgment on me
without giving me a hearing, you must certainly be sensible it was less
difficult not to read my reasons than to answer them. You obstinately
refuse to receive my letters; you return them contemptuously; and
you force me to use artifice at the very instant that my sole object
is to convince you of my integrity. The obligation you lay me under
of defending myself, will, I hope, apologize for the means I am
constrained to use. Moreover, as I am convinced, that to be justified
in your mind, it will be sufficient that the sincerity of my sentiments
should be laid open to you, I thought this innocent stratagem might be
forgiven. I will, then, dare hope that you will forgive it; and that
you will not be much surprised that love is more industrious to show
itself than indifference is to banish it.
Permit me then, Madam, to lay my heart entirely open to you. It is
yours, and it is but right you should know it.
When I arrived at Madame de Rosemonde’s, I little imagined the fate
that awaited me. I knew not you was here; and I must add with the
sincerity that characterises me, had I known it, my repose would not
have been disturbed: not but that I should have rendered that homage
to your beauty it so justly requires; but being long accustomed to
experience only desires, to surrender only to those where my hopes
flattered success, I knew nothing of the torments of love. You was
witness to the pressing instances of Madame de Rosemonde, to detain
me some time. I had already spent one day with you: at length I
acquiesced, or rather thought I acquiesced, to the pleasure so natural
and reasonable, of paying a proper regard to so respectable a relation.
The manner of living here undoubtedly differed widely from that I had
been accustomed to; yet I perceived no difficulty in conforming to
it, and without ever thinking of diving into the cause of so sudden a
change, I attributed it solely to that easiness of temper, which, I
believe, I have already mentioned to you.
Unfortunately (but why must it be a misfortune?) knowing you more, I
soon discovered that that enchanting form, which alone had raised my
admiration, was the smallest of your attractions; your celestial soul
astonished and seduced mine; I admired your beauty, but adored your
virtue. Without a thought of obtaining you, I was resolved to deserve
you; seeing your indulgence for my past follies, I was ambitious to
merit your approbation for the future.
I sought it in your conversation, I watched for it in your looks; in
those looks which diffused a poison so much more dangerous, as it
spread without design, and was received without diffidence.
Then I knew what was love; but far from complaining, resolved to bury
it in eternal silence. I gave way without dread or reserve to this
most delicious sentiment. Each day augmented its power; and soon the
pleasure of seeing you became a necessity. Were you absent a moment,
my heart was oppressed; at the noise of your approach it fluttered with
joy. I no longer existed but by you and for you; and yet I call on
yourself to witness, if ever in the gaiety of rural amusements, or in
the more serious conversations, a word ever escaped from me that could
betray the secret of my heart.
At length the day arrived which gave birth to my misfortune; and by an
inconceivable fatality, a worthy action gave the signal. Yes, Madam,
it was in the midst of the poor wretches I had delivered, that giving
way to that precious sensibility that embellishes beauty itself, and
enhances virtue, you led a heart astray which was already too much
intoxicated by love.
You may, perhaps, recollect, what a gloom spread over me at my return.
Alas, I was totally employed in combating a passion which I found was
overpowering me!
It was after having exhausted all my strength and reason in this
unequal combat, that an accident I could not have foreseen, left us
alone; then I own I was overcome. My full heart could neither command
my words or tears; but is it then a crime? And if it be one, is it not
sufficiently punished by the racking torments to which I am devoted?
Consumed by a hopeless love, I implore your pity, and you return
me hate: no other happiness in view but that of gazing on you, my
unconscious eyes seek you, and I tremble to meet your looks. In the
deplorable state to which you have reduced me, I pass my days in
concealing my sorrows, and my nights in cherishing them; whilst you,
tranquil and peaceful, only know them by having been the cause, and
enjoying it; and yet it is you that complain, and I excuse myself.
This is, notwithstanding, a true recital of what you call injuries,
which rather deserve to be called misfortunes. A pure and sincere love,
a profound respect, and an entire submission, are the sentiments with
which you have inspired me. I should not dread to present such homage
even to the Divinity. Oh thou, who art one of his most beautiful works,
imitate his mercy, think on my cruel torments; above all, think that as
you have put me between the supremest felicity and despair, the first
word you pronounce will for ever decide my fate!
_Aug._ 23 ,17—.