Dangerous Liaisons by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos (the reading list .TXT) 📕

you my hopes are centered. You are sensible; you know what love is, and you are the only one in whom I can confide: do not refuse me your assistance.

Adieu, Sir! the only relief I experience in my sorrow, is to think I have still such a friend as you left. Pray inform me, at what hour I can find you at home; if it is not this morning, I beg it may be early in the afternoon.

Sept. 8, 17⁠—.

Letter 61 Cecilia Volanges to Sophia Carnay

My dear Sophy, pity thy poor Cecilia; she is very unhappy. Mamma knows all. I cannot conceive how she had any suspicion; and yet she has discovered everything. Last night mamma appeared to be a little out of temper; but I did not take any notice of it; and whilst she was at cards, I chatted very agreeably with Madame de Merteuil, who supped with us. We had a great deal of talk about Danceny; and yet I believe we were not overheard. She went away, and I retired to my apartment.

I was undressing when mamma came in, and ordered my waiting maid to retire; she demanded the key of my escrutoire. The tone in which she made this requisition threw me all in a flutter, so that I could scarcely support myself; I made believe I could not find it: but at length I was obliged to obey. The first drawer she opened was the very one where all Chevalier Danceny’s letters were. I was so perplexed, that when she asked me what they were, I could give her no other answer, but that it was nothing at all; but when I saw she began to read the first that offered, I had scarce time to fall into a chair, when I fainted. As soon as I recovered, my mother, who had called in the waiting maid, retired, desiring me to go to bed. She carried off all Danceny’s letters. I shudder every time I think that I must appear before her again. I have done nothing but cry all night.

It is but just daylight, and I write to you, in hopes that Josephine will come. If I can speak to her alone, I shall beg of her to leave a note, that I shall write, with Madame de Merteuil; and if I cannot, I will put it in your letter, and you will be so good as to send it, as from yourself. It is from her alone that I can receive any consolation. We will, at least, speak of him, for I never hope to see him more. I am very unhappy. She perhaps will be kind enough to deliver a letter to Danceny. I dare not confide in Josephine, and still less in my waiting maid; for it is, perhaps, she that told my mother that I had letters in my desk.

I will not write to you any more now, because I must have time to write to Madame de Merteuil and Danceny, and to have all my letters ready, if she will take charge of them; after that, I will go to bed again, that they may find me in bed when they come into my room. I will say I am ill, to prevent my being called to mamma. I shall not tell a great lie; for I surely suffer as much as if I had a fever. My eyes are inflamed with crying; and I have a weight at my stomach, which prevents me from breathing. When I think I never shall see Danceny more, I wish I was dead. Farewell, my dear Sophy. I can’t write any more; my tears suffocate me.

Sept. 7, 17⁠—.

Letter 62 Madame de Volanges to Chevalier Danceny

You will certainly not be surprised, Sir, after having so grossly abused the confidence of a mother, and the innocence of a child, to be no longer admitted into a house where you have repaid the sincerest friendship with the blackest ingratitude. I prefer desiring you never more to appear here, rather than giving orders to my servants to refuse you admittance, which would affect us all, by the remarks that would infallibly be made. I have a right to expect you will not put me under the necessity of taking this step. I must also acquaint you, that if you should hereafter make the least attempt to keep up a correspondence with my daughter, a severe and everlasting confinement shall withdraw her from your solicitations. I leave it then to yourself, Sir, to determine whether you will be the cause of her misery, as you have attempted to be that of her dishonour. As to myself, my resolution is fixed, and she’s informed of it.

I send you, enclosed, all your letters; and I expect you will send me back those of my daughter; and that you will concur in leaving no mark of an event, the remembrance of which fills me with indignation; her with shame, as it should you with remorse.

I have the honour, etc.

Sept. 7, 17⁠—.

Letter 63 Marchioness de Merteuil to Viscount de Valmont

Yes, certainly, I can explain Danceny’s letter to you. The incident that gave birth to it is my work, and I think it a masterpiece. I lost no time since I received your last letter; and, in the words of the Athenian architect, “What he has said, I will perform.”

There must be obstacles then for our hero of romance; and his happiness lulls him. Oh! leave that to me, I will cut out work for him; and I am much mistaken if he sleeps so quietly hereafter. It was necessary to make him sensible of his folly; and I flatter myself that he now regrets the opportunity he has let slip. You say also, that is necessary there should be a little mystery in the business: