Viscount de Valmont _to the_ Marchioness de Merteuil.
I dare say, you have been in daily expectation of my compliments and
eulogiums on your adventure; I even make no doubt but my long silence
may have put you a little out of temper: But to sum up all, I will
freely own I have ever thought, that when one had nothing but praise
to offer a woman, he might safely trust to herself, and employ his
time on other matters. Yet I must thank you for my share in it, and
congratulate you on your own. I will even, for this once, to make you
perfectly happy, agree you have much surpassed my expectations. And now
let us see, whether, on my side, I have not partly fulfilled yours.
Madame de Tourvel is not the subject we are now on; her slow
proceedings do not meet your approbation; you like to hear of business
done; long-spun scenes disgust you; but I never before experienced the
pleasure I do now in those pretended delays.
Yes, I enjoy it; to see this prudent woman, entangled imperceptibly
in a path from whence she cannot return; whose rapid and dangerous
declivity hurries her on against her will, and forces her to follow
me—then, frightened at the danger, would, but cannot stop;—her
anxiety and wariness make her steps slow, but still they must succeed
each other. Sometimes, not daring to view the danger, she shuts her
eyes, and abandons herself to my care. New dreads often reanimate her
efforts; and, in her grievous fright, she again endeavours to return,
wastes her strength to climb painfully a short space; and soon, by a
magic power, finds herself nearer the danger she vainly endeavoured to
fly. Then, having no other guide or support but me, without thinking
any longer of reproaching me with her inevitable fall, she implores
me to protract it. Fervent prayers, humble supplications, all that
terrified mortals offer up to the Divinity, I receive from her; and
you would have me be deaf to her vows, to destroy the worship she
renders me, and employ the power she invokes to support her, in hurling
her into destruction. Let me at least have time to contemplate this
affecting struggle between love and virtue.
Is not this, then, the exhibition you fly to at the theatre with so
much avidity, and applaud with so much ardour? And do you imagine it
can be less endearing in realizing it?—The sentiments of a pure and
tender heart, which dreads the happiness it wishes, and ceases not
to defend itself when it even ceases to resist, you enthusiastically
admire: And pray, is the ruling principle of this great work to be
rejected?
Yet, those are the delicious enjoyments this celestial woman daily
offers me, and you reproach me for relishing them. Alas! the time will
come too soon when, degraded by her fall, I shall view her with as much
indifference as another.
But I wander; for, speaking of her, I forget that I did not intend even
to mention her. An unknown power impels me, and incessantly recalls her
to me when I am even injuring her: let me banish this dangerous idea,
be myself again, and entertain you with a more agreeable adventure.
Your late pupil, now become mine, shall be the subject; and now, I
hope, you’ll again know your friend.
Having, for a few days past, been more gently treated by my charming
devotee, and consequently more disengaged, I observed the little
Volanges was really handsome; and that if it was ridiculous in
Danceny to be in love with her, it would be no less so in me not to
embrace a dissipation that my solitude called for. I even thought it
an act of justice, to repay myself for the trouble I had had with
her: I recollected, also, that you offered her to me before Danceny
had any pretensions to her; and thought myself well grounded in
asserting certain rights, which he claimed only from my refusal and
abdication. The engaging mien of the little creature, her pretty
mouth, her childish air, even her awkwardness, strengthened those
sage reflections. I determined to act conformably, and success has
crown’d the enterprise. I think I see you all impatience to know how I
supplanted the cherished lover, the seducing arts fit to be employed
for such a tender age, and so unexperienced: spare yourself the
trouble, for I employed none.—Whilst you, managing with dexterity the
arms of your sex, triumph by artifice, I, in a manly way, subdue by
authority,—sure of my prey, if I can close with it. I had no occasion
for dissimulation, but to get it within my reach, and that I made use
of scarcely deserves the name.
I took the advantage of the first letter Danceny wrote to his fair
one, and, after having made the signal agreed on, instead of employing
my address to deliver it, I contriv’d obstacles to prevent it; and,
feigning a share in the impatience this excited, pointed out the remedy
after causing the evil.
The young thing is lodged in an apartment that opens into the gallery,
and the mother, very properly, keeps the key. Nothing, then, was
wanting but to get possession of the key, and nothing more easy in the
execution: I asked for it for two hours, only to have another made by
it: then correspondence, interviews, nocturnal rendezvous, all were
convenient and safe: but, would you believe it, the timid child was
frightened, and refused. Any other would have been driven to despair:
to me it was a more poignant pleasure. I wrote to Danceny, complaining
of this denial; and was so successful, that the thoughtless youth
urged, nay even exacted of his timid mistress, that she should agree to
my request, and give herself up to my discretion.
I must own myself well pleased to change my character, and that the
young man should do for me what he expected I was to do for him.
This idea enhanc’d the value of the adventure; and, as soon as I got
possession of the delicious key, I lost no time:—it was last night.
When I was assured all were at rest in the Castle, taking my dark
lantern, and in a proper toilette for the hour and circumstance, I paid
my first visit to your pupil. Every thing had been prepared (and that
by herself) to prevent noise: she was in her first sleep, so that I
was by her bed side without awaking her. I was at first tempted to go
on farther, and make every thing pass for a dream; but dreading the
effects of a surprise, and the consequences naturally attendant, I
chose to awake the pretty sleeper cautiously, which I effected without
the alarm I dreaded.
After having calmed her first fears, as I did not come there to chat,
I ventured to take some liberties: they did not, certainly, inform
her in the convent, to how many different dangers timid innocence
is exposed, and all that she had to take care of to guard against a
surprise; for, using all her strength to prevent a kiss, which was only
a false attack, she left all the rest defenceless: how was it possible
to resist the temptation?—I then changed my attack, and immediately
took possession of the post. At that instant we had both like to be
undone; the little girl, scared, was in earnest going to cry out;
happily, her voice was stifled with her tears: she flung herself, also,
on the string of the bell, but I held her arm opportunely.
“What are you about? (then said I) Will you ruin yourself for ever?
Do you think you will be able to persuade any one that I am here
without your consent? Who but yourself could supply me the means of
getting in?—And this key that I had from you, which I could not have
from any one else, will you take it upon you to tell the use it was
designed for?”—This short speech did not calm either grief or anger,
but it brought on submission. I don’t know whether I had the tone of
eloquence, but certain I am I had not the action: one hand employed for
strength, the other for love, what orator could pretend to gracefulness
in such a situation? If you conceive it right, you must own, at least,
it was very favourable for the attack: but I know nothing; and, as you
say, the simplest creature, a boarding school girl, would lead me like
a child.
She was in the utmost affliction, but felt the necessity of coming to
some resolution, and entering into a composition. Being inexorable to
prayers, she proceeded to offers: you think, perhaps. I sold this
important post very dear; by no means; I promised every thing for a
kiss; however, the kiss taken, I did not keep my word; my reasons were
good: it had not been agreed whether it should be given or taken; by
dint of bargaining we agreed on a second, and that was to be received;
then guiding her trembling arms round me, and pressing her with one of
mine more amorously, the soft kiss was not only received, but perfectly
received in such a manner, that love could not have done it better.—So
much plain dealing deserved to be rewarded, and I immediately granted
the request: the hand was withdrawn, but, I don’t know by what
accident, I found myself in its place. You now suppose me very alert,
and in great haste, don’t you?—Not in the least; I have already told
you I delight in delays: when one is once certain of coming to the end
of the journey, what occasion for haste?
Seriously, I was glad, for once, to observe the power of opportunity;
and it was here divested of all foreign aid. She had, however, love to
combat with; and love, supported by modesty and shame, strengthened by
the bad humour I had put her in. There was nothing in my favour but
opportunity;—it was there, always ready, always present, and love
absent.
To be certain in my observations, I was so mischievous to employ no
more force than what could be easily combated: only, if my charming
enemy, abusing my condescension, attempted to escape me, I kept
her in awe, by the same dread whose happy effects I had already
experienced.—At length the tender, lovely girl, without farther
trouble, first complied, and then consented: not but that, after the
first moment, reproaches and tears returned together—I can’t tell
whether true or feigned; but, as it always happens, they ceased as
soon as I began to give fresh cause for them. At last, from weakness
to reproach, and from reproach to weakness, we separated, perfectly
satisfied with each other, and equally agreed for the rendezvous this
night.
I retired to my apartment at the dawn of day, quite exhausted with
fatigue and sleep; yet I sacrificed one and the other to my inclination
to be at breakfast in the morning. I am passionately fond of the next
day’s exhibition. You cannot conceive any thing like this. It was
a confusion in the countenance, a difficulty in the walk, dejected
eyes so swelled, and the round visage so lengthened, nothing could
be so grotesque; and the mother, for the first time, alarmed at this
sudden alteration, seemed to show a deal of affection for her; and the
Presidente also, who seemed to be much concerned for her. As to her
cares, they are only lent; for the day will come, and it is not far
off, when they may be returned to her.
Adieu, my lovely friend!
_Oct._ 1, 17—.