Viscount de Valmont _to the_ Marchioness de Merteuil.
I insist on it, my charming friend, I am not in love; and it is
not my fault, if circumstances oblige me to play the character of
a lover.—Only consent to return, and you will be able to judge my
sincerity—I made my proofs yesterday, and cannot be injured by what
happens to-day.
I was with the tender prude, having nothing else to do; for the little
Volanges, nothwithstanding her situation, was to spend the night at
Madame de V——’s early ball: the want of business first gave me an
inclination to prolong the evening; and I had, with this intention,
even required a little sacrifice: it was scarcely granted, than the
pleasure I promised myself was disturbed with the idea of this love
which you so obstinately will have it, or at least reproach me with
being infected; so I determined at once to be certain myself, and
convince you, that it was a calumny of your own.
In consequence I took a violent resolution; on a very slight pretence,
I took leave, and left my fair one quite surprised, and doubtless more
afflicted, while I quietly went to meet Emily at the opera: she can
satisfy you, that until morning, when we parted, no regret disturbed
our amusements.
Yet there was a pretty large field for uneasiness, if my total
indifference had not preserved me: for you must know, I was scarce four
houses from the opera, with Emily in my carriage, when that of the
austere devotee ranged close beside mine, and a stop which happened,
left us near half a quarter of an hour close by each other; we could
see one another as plain as at noon day, and there was no means to
escape.
That is not all; I took it in my head to tell Emily confidentially,
that was the letter-woman. You may recollect, perhaps, that piece of
folly, and that Emily was the desk[1]. She did not forget it, and as
she laughs immoderately, she was not easy until she had attentively
viewed this piece of virtue, as she called her; and with scandalous
bursts, such as would even disconcert effrontery.
Still this is not all; the jealous woman sent to my house that same
night; I was not at home, but she obstinately sent a second time,
with orders to wait my return. I sent my carriage home, as soon as I
resolved to spend the night with Emily, without any other orders to
my coachman, than to return this morning. When he got home he found
the messenger, whom he informed I was not to return that night. You
may guess the effect of this news, and that at my return, I found my
discharge announced with all the dignity the circumstance required.
Thus, this adventure, which according to your opinion, was never to
be determined, could, as you see, have been ended this morning? if it
should not, I would not have you think I prize a continuance of it; but
I do not think it consistent with my character to be quitted: moreover,
I intend to reserve the honour of this sacrifice for you.
I have answered her severe note with a long sentimental epistle; I have
given long reasons, and rely on love to make them acceptable. I have
already succeeded—I have received a second note, still very rigorous,
and which confirms an everlasting rupture, as it ought to be—but
the ton is not the same; I must not be seen again; this resolution is
announced four times in the most irrevocable manner. From thence I
concluded, there was not a moment to be lost in presenting myself: I
have already sent my huntsman to secure the porter, and shall follow
instantly, to have my pardon sealed: for in crimes of this nature,
there is only one form for a general absolution, and that must be
executed in each others presence.
Adieu, my charming friend! I fly to achieve this grand event.
_Paris, Nov._ 15, 17—.
[1] Letters xlvi and xlvii.