Chevalier Danceny _to_ Cecilia Volanges.
Madame de Merteuil set out this morning for the country; thus am I
deprived, my charming Cecilia; of my only remaining consolation in your
absence, of conversing of you with our mutual friend: she has given me
leave for some time past to distinguish her by that title; I accepted
it the more eagerly, as it has something the appearance of drawing
me nearer to you; she is a most amiable woman, and knows how to add
the most attractive charms to friendship:—It would seem as if this
pleasing sensation was embellished and strengthened in her the more,
for what she refuses to love. You cannot imagine how much she loves
you; how pleased she is to hear me speak of you: it is this certainly
that attaches me so much to her. What happiness, to exist only for you
both! to make such sudden transitions from the ecstasy of love, to the
charms of friendship; to devote my life to it; to be in some measure
the point of re-union to your reciprocal attachment; to be convinced
the happiness of the one is also that of the other.
You cannot, my charming Cecilia, love this adorable woman too much:
add to my attachment for her, by sharing it with me. Now I experience
the charms of friendship, I wish you also to taste them; I think no
enjoyment complete you do not partake of: Yes, my dear Cecilia, I wish
to inspire you with all the tender sentiments; that every idea should
convey happiness to you; and would still think I returned you only a
portion of the felicity I have received from you.
Alas! those enchanting dreams are only the pleasing fancies of
imagination, and reality only offers me mortifying privations. I now
plainly see I must give up the flattering hope of seeing you in the
country: my sole consolation is endeavouring to be persuaded you cannot
accomplish it, and you do not choose to afflict me more by informing me
of it; twice already have I lamented this disappointment, and received
no reply:—Ah! Cecilia, I really believe you love me with your whole
soul, but your heart is not so ardent as mine. If the obstacles were
left to me to be removed, or my own interests to be managed instead
of yours, I would soon convince you nothing was impossible to love.
You do not inform me even when this cruel absence is to be at an end:
here surely I can see you; your enchanting looks would revive my
sorrowful heart which is almost totally depressed: forgive, my dear
Cecilia, my fears, they are not suspicious; I place implicit faith in
your love, in your constancy; I should be too miserable, had I any
doubts; but so many obstacles still renewed—I am, my dear, very much
dejected:—Madame de Merteuil’s departure has renewed all my sorrows.
Adieu, my dear Cecilia, adieu!—Remember your lover is in affliction,
and you only can make him happy.
_Paris, Oct._ 17, 17—.