Chevalier Danceny _to_ Cecilia Volanges.
(_Sent open to the Marchioness de Merteuil, in the 66th Letter of the
Viscount._)
Ah, my Cecilia! what will become of us? What will save us from the
miseries that hang over us? Love, at least, can give us resolution
to support them. I cannot express my astonishment, my distraction, on
seeing my letters, and reading Madame de Volanges’. Who is it can have
betrayed us? On whom do your suspicions fall? Is it by any imprudent
act of your own? How do you employ your time? What has been said to
you? I wish to know all, and am ignorant of every thing. Perhaps you
are in the same situation.
I enclose you your mamma’s letter, with a copy of my answer to it. I
hope you will approve of what I wrote: and I want much to be satisfied
whether you will approve of the steps I have taken since this fatal
discovery, which all tend to hear from you, and to be able to write to
you; and, who knows, perhaps to see you again with more freedom than
ever.
I can’t express the joy, my Cecilia, I conceive at the prospect of
seeing you once more; renewing my vows of eternal love, and receiving
yours. Who would not bear torments to enjoy so much happiness! I have
this prospect in view; and the methods I mean to take, are what I
beseech you to approve. I am indebted for them to the anxiety of a
worthy friend; and I only ask that you will permit my friend to be also
yours.
But, perhaps, I ought not to have engaged your confidence without your
consent; misfortunes and necessity must plead in my favour. It is
love led me on; it is love solicits your indulgence; implores you to
forgive so necessary a confidence, without which we should be for ever
separated.[1] You know the friend I mean; he is also the friend of the
woman you love best—the Viscount Valmont.
My design was, to engage him first to prevail on Madame de Merteuil
to deliver you a letter. He was of opinion this scheme would not
succeed; but he will answer for her waiting-maid, who lays under some
obligations to him. She will then deliver you this letter, and you may
trust her with your answer.
This means will be of very little use, if, as Mr. de Valmont tells me,
you are to set out immediately for the country: but in that case he
will be our friend. The lady, to whose house you are going, is his near
relation. He will make use of this pretence to go there at the same
time that you do; and we can carry on our correspondence through him.
He even assures me, if you leave the management to him, he will provide
us the means of seeing each other, without danger of a discovery.
Now, my dear Cecilia, if you love me, if you compassionate my
misfortunes, if, as I hope, you partake my sorrows, you will not refuse
your confidence to a man who will be our guardian angel. Were it not
for his assistance, I should be reduced even to despair of being able
to soften the distresses I have caused you: I hope they will soon be
at an end. But, my dearest life, promise me not to give way to them;
neither suffer yourself to be too much dejected. The idea of your grief
is an insupportable torment to me. I would cheerfully die to make you
happy; you know it well. May the certainty of being adored, bring some
small consolation to your soul. Let me be assured you pardon the evils
my love has made you suffer, for my consolation.
Adieu, my dear Cecilia!
_Sept._ 9, 17—.
[1] Mr. Danceny is wrong; for he had already made a confidant of Mons.
de Valmont. See Letter the 57th.