_The_ Chevalier Danceny _to_ Madame de Volanges.
(_Annexed to the 66th Letter, from the Viscount to the Marchioness._)
Without seeking, Madam, to justify my conduct, and without the least
cause of complaint of yours, I can only lament the unhappiness of
three persons all worthy of a better fate. I beg leave to assure you,
my chagrin, on this occasion, proceeds more from being the cause than
the victim. Since yesterday, I have often endeavoured to do myself
the honour of answering your letter, without being able to perform my
resolution; yet I have so many things to say, that I must overcome
every other consideration; and if this letter is incoherent, you may
very well imagine that I stand in great need of your indulgence in my
present painful situation.
Permit me, therefore, Madam, to demur against the first position of
your letter. I venture to assure you, I have neither abused your
confidence, nor Mademoiselle de Volanges’ innocence: I have paid a
proper respect to one and the other, they alone depend on me; and were
you to make me responsible for an involuntary sentiment, I shall not
be afraid to declare, that the one Mademoiselle your daughter inspired
me with, may perhaps displease, but ought by no means to offend you.
This motive, which I feel more than I can express, I leave you and my
letters to determine on.
You forbid me to come to your house in future, and I most certainly
will submit to your pleasure on this occasion; but give me leave to
remonstrate, that such an abrupt absence will give as much cause to
remarks you wish to avoid, as the orders you have declined giving, for
the same reason, would create; and I think this consideration more
important on Mademoiselle de Volanges’ account than my own. I therefore
beseech you to weigh attentively those things, and not suffer your
severity to get the better of your prudence. I am confident that the
interest of your daughter alone will govern your resolutions; I shall
therefore wait your farther commands.
Yet, if you should think proper to permit me to wait upon you
sometimes, I engage myself, Madam, (and you may depend upon my
promise), I shall not attempt to abuse your condescension, by presuming
to speak in private to Mademoiselle de Volanges, or convey any letter
to her. The dread of doing any thing that might affect her reputation,
influences me to this sacrifice; and the happiness of some time seeing
her would be a sufficient recompence.
This part of my letter is the only answer I can make to the fate
you intend for Mademoiselle de Volanges, and which you mean to be
dependent on my conduct. It would be deceiving you to promise more. A
vile seducer may make his projects subservient to circumstances, and
calculate them to events; but the passion with which I am inspired
admits of only two sentiments, courage and constancy.
What me, Madam! me consent to be forgotten by Mademoiselle de Volanges,
and I to forget her? No, never! I will be constant to her; she has
received my vows, and I now again renew them. Forgive me, Madam; I am
going astray; I must resume my reason.
One thing more remains to be mentioned, in reply to the letters you
require. I am really unhappy to be obliged to add a refusal to the
wrongs you already charge me with: but I beseech you to attend to my
reasons, and vouchsafe to remember to enhance their value: that the
only consolation I have left for the loss of your friendship, is the
hope of preserving your esteem.
Mademoiselle de Volanges’ letters, ever precious to me, become more
so at this moment. They are my only felicity; they bring back to my
remembrance the only charm of my life! Yet, I beg you will believe me,
I would not hesitate a moment to sacrifice them to you; and the regret
of being deprived of them, would give way to my strong desire of
proving my most respectful obedience to your orders; but, very powerful
considerations, which I am confident you yourself will not blame,
prevent me.
It is true you have got the secret from Mademoiselle de Volanges; but
permit me to say, and I believe I am authorised, that it is the effect
of surprise, and not of confidence. I do not pretend to blame the
step you have taken, which may be sanctioned by your maternal care. I
respect your right; but that will not dispense me from doing my duty.
The most sacred of all, I conceive, is not to betray the confidence
reposed in us. I should therefore be in the highest degree guilty,
were I to expose to the eyes of another the secrets of a heart, which
has been disclosed to me alone. If Mademoiselle your daughter consents
they should be given up to you, let her speak—her letters are useless
to you: if, on the contrary, she should think proper to keep her
secrets to herself, you certainly will not expect, Madam, that I should
disclose them.
As to the secrecy in which you wish this event may remain, rest
satisfied, Madam, that in every thing that concerns Mademoiselle de
Volanges, I may even set the heart of a mother at defiance. But to
take away all manner of uneasiness from you, I have provided against
every accident. This precious deposit, which formerly was superscribed,
_Papers to be burnt_, is endorsed at present, _Papers belonging to
Madame de Volanges_. This resolution may sufficiently convince you that
my refusal is not influenced by any dread that you should find in those
letters, a single sentiment that you should have any personal cause to
complain of.
This, Madam, is a very long letter. It would yet, however, be too
short, if it left you room for the least doubt of the honour of my
sentiments, the sincere regret I am under of having displeased you, and
the profound respect with which I have the honour to be, &c.
_Sept._ 7, 17—.