Now I mention neglect, you resemble those who send regularly

to inquire of the state of health of their sick friends, and who

never concern themselves about the answer. You finish your last
letter by asking whether the Chevalier is dead. I make no reply,
and you are no farther concerned about the matter; have you
forgot my lover is your sworn friend? But comfort yourself; he is
not dead; or if he was, it would be from excess of pleasure. This
poor Chevalier, how tender! How formed for love! How sensibly
he affects one! He distracts me. Seriously, then, his happiness in
being loved by me, inspires me with a true affection for him.

The very day I wrote you that I was taken up in contriving our
rupture, how happy did I not make him! And yet I was in
earnest engaged how I should make him desperate when he
appeared. Whether whim or inclination, he never appeared to so
much advantage. However, I received him coolly; he expected
to spend a couple of hours with me before my time of seeing
company. I told him I was going abroad, he begg'd to know
where; I refused to tell him. He insisted to know; where you will
not be, I replied with some tartness. Happily for him he was
petrified at my answer; for had he pronounced a syllable, a
scene would have ensued which would infallibly have brought
on the intended rupture. Astonished at his silence, I cast a look
at him, with no other design, I swear, but to observe his
countenance; I was instantly struck with the deep and tender
sadness that covered this charming figure, which you have
owned it is so difficult to resist. The same cause produced the

51
same effect; I was a second time overcome; from that instant I
endeavoured to prevent his having any reason to complain. I
am going out on business, said I, in a milder tone, and the
business

relates to you; ask no more questions. I shall sup at home; at

your return you'll know all: he then recovered his speech; but I
would not suffer him to go on. I'm in great haste, continued I.
Leave me until night. He kissed my hand and departed. In order
to make him, or perhaps myself, amends, I immediately
resolved to show him my villa, of which he had not the least
suspicion; I called my faithful maid, Victoire. I am seized with
my dizziness, said I; let all my servants know I am gone to bed;
when alone, I desired her to put on a footman's dress, and
metamorphosed myself into a chamber-maid.

She ordered a hackney-coach to my garden-door, and we

instantly set out; Being arrived at this temple dedicated to love,
I put on my genteelest deshabille; a most delicious one, and of
my own invention: it leaves nothing exposed, but every thing for
fancy to imagine. I promise you the pattern for your Presidente,
when you shall have rendered her worthy of wearing it.

After those preparations, whilst Victoire was taken up with other

matters, I read a chapter of the Sopha, a letter of the New

52
Eloisa, and two of La Fontaine's Tales, to rehearse the different
characters I intended to assume. In the mean time, my
Chevalier came to my house, with his usual eagerness. My
porter refused him admittance, and informing him I was
indisposed, delivered him a note from me, but not of my writing;
according to my usual discretion. He opens, and finds in
Victoire's writing;ʁ"At nine precisely, at the Boulevard, opposite
the coffee- houses."

Thither he proceeds, and a little footman whom he does not

know, or at least thinks he does not know, for it was Victoire,
tells him he must send back his carriage and follow him. All this
romantic proceeding heated his imagination, and on such
occasions a heated imagination is useful. At last he arrives, and
love and astonishment produced in him the effect of a real
enchantment. In order to give him time to recover from his
surprise, we walked a while in the grove; I then brought him
back to the house. The first thing which presented itself to his
view, was a table with two covers, and a bed prepared. From
thence we went into the cabinet, which was most elegantly
decorated. There, in suspense, between reflection and
sentiment, I flung my arms around him, and letting myself fall
at his kneesʁ"Alas! my dear friend," said I, "what reproaches do
I

53
not deserve, for having, for a moment, given you uneasiness by
an affected ill-humour, in order to enhance the pleasure and
surprise of this moment, for having concealed my heart from
your tenderness! Forgive me; I will expiate my crime with the
most ardent love." You may guess what was the effect of this
sentimental declaration. The happy Chevalier raised me, and my
pardon was sealed on the same sopha where you and I, in a
similar way, so cheerfully sealed our eternal rupture.

As we had six hours to pass together, and that I was

determined the whole time should be devoted to delight him, I
moderated his transports, and called lovely coquetry to the aid
of tenderness. I don't know I ever took so much pains to please,
or ever, in my own opinion, succeeded so well. After supper, by
turns, childish and rational, wanton and tender, sometimes even
libertine. I took pleasure in considering him as a Sultan, in the
midst of his Seraglio, to whom I alternately supplied the places
of different favourites; and indeed, his reiterated offerings,
though always received by the same woman, were received as
by a new mistress.

At length, when day appeared, it was necessary to part; and

notwithstanding all he said, and even what he did, to prove the
contrary, there was, on his part, as much necessity for it, as
want of inclination. At the instant of parting, for a last adieu, I
delivered him the key of this happy mansion: I had it for you

54
alone, said I, and it is fit you should be the master of it; it is but
right the high priest should dispose of the temple.

By this artifice, I anticipated any reflections which might arise

in his mind relative to the propriety of a villa, which is ever
matter of suspicion. I know him so well, that I'm certain he will
never make use on't but for me; and if I should have a fancy to
go there without him, I have another key.

He by all means would make an appointment for another day;

but I as yet love him too much, to wear him out soon; the true
maxim is, not give into excess, but with those one wishes to be
rid of. This he is a stranger to; but, happily for him, I know it for
us both.

I perceive it is now three in the morning, and that I have wrote

a volume, though I intended but a short letter. Such are the
charms of confidential

friendship; it is that confidential friendship that renders you the

object I love most; but indeed the Chevalier is the object that
pleases me most.

From ʁʁ, Aug. 12, 17ʁ.

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LETTER 11

The Presidente DE TOURVEL to MADAME VOLANGES.

The severity of your letter would have terrified me strangely,

dear madam, if I had not here stronger reasons to think myself
perfectly safe, than those you give me for apprehension. The
formidable Mr. de Valmont, the terror of our sex, seems to have
laid aside his murderous arms, before he entered this castle. Far
from having formed any design, he did not even appear to have
brought any claims; and the accomplishments of an amiable
man, which his enemies even give to him, almost vanish to give
place to the character of good-natured creature. Probably it is
the country air has wrought this miracle; one thing I can assure
you, tho' incessantly with me, even seemingly pleased with my
company, not a word that has the least tendency to love has
escaped him, not even one of those phrases that most men
assume, without having, like him, any thing to plead in their
justification. Never does he put one under the necessity of flying
for shelter to that reservedness to which a woman, who will
maintain her dignity, is obliged to have recourse now-a-days, to
keep the men within bounds. He does not abuse the gaiety he
inspires. Perhaps he flatters a little too much; but it is with so
much delicacy, that he would reconcile even modesty to praise.

56
To conclude, had I a brother, I would wish him to be what Mr.
de Valmont is here. There are many women, perhaps, would
wish him to have a more pointedgallantry; and I own I am
greatly obliged to him for the good opinion he entertains, by not
confounding me with them.

This description undoubtedly differs very much from that you

have given me; and yet they may both carry a resemblance, if
we ascertain our times. He himself agrees he has done many
wrong things, and, perhaps, the world has imputed many more
to him. But I have seldom met with men who spoke more
respectfully of women of character, almost to enthusiasm.

In this point, at least, you inform me he is not a deceiver. I rest

the proof on his conduct to Madame de Merteuil. He often
speaks of her; and always so much in her praise, and with the
appearance of so much affection, that I imagined, until I
received your letter, that what he had

called friendship was really love. I condemn myself for my rash

opinion, in which I am the more blameable, as he himself has
frequently spoke in her justification; and I own his honest
sincerity I looked on as artifice. I don't know, but it appears to
me, that the man who is capable of so constant a friendship for
a deserving woman, cannot be an abandoned libertine; but

57
whether we are to attribute his prudent conduct here to any
scheme in this neighbourhood, as you suppose, is a question.
There are some few agreeable women around us; however, he
seldom goes abroad except in the morning, and then he says he
goes a shooting; he seldom brings home any game, it is true,
but he tells us he is a bad shot. However, what he does out of
doors, concerns me but little; and if I wished to be informed, it
would be only to have one more reason to come into your
opinion, or to bring you over to mine.

As to what you propose, that I should endeavour to shorten the

time of Mr. de Valmont's residence here, it appears to me a
matter of some difficulty, to desire an aunt not to have her
nephew with her; and a nephew for whom she has the greatest
affection. However, I promise you, through deference only, and
not that I see any necessity for it, to take the first opportunity
to make this request either to him or her. As to myself, Mr. de
Tourvel is acquainted with my intention of remaining here until
his return, and he would, with reason, be astonished at my
levity. Thus, Madam, I have given you a long explanation; but I
thought a justification of Mr. de Valmont to you, where it
appears very necessary, a debt to truth. I am not the less
sensible of the friendship which suggested your advice. I am
also indebted to it for the obliging manner in which you
acquaint me of the delay of Madame de Volanges' nuptials, for
which accept my most sincere thanks; but whatever pleasure I
might expect on that occasion in your company, would be

58
willingly sacrificed to the satisfaction of knowing M. de
Volanges' happiness sooner completed, if, after all, she can be
more so than with a mother, every way deserving her respect
and tenderness. I partake with her those sentiments which
attach me to you, and beg you'll receive this assurance of them
with your usual goodness.

I have the honour to be, &c.

From ʁʁ, Aug. 13, 17ʁ.

LETTER 12

CECILIA VOLANGES to the MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL.

Madam,

My Mamma is indisposed; she will not go out to-day, and I must

keep her company: thus I am deprived the honour of attending
you to the opera. I assure you I regret more the loss of your
company than the performance. I hope you are persuaded of
this, for I have a great affection for you. Be so good to tell the
Chevalier Danceny, I have not yet got the collection which he
mentioned, and that if he can bring it himself to-morrow, I shall
be obliged to him. If he comes to-day, he will be told we are not

59
at home; but the reason is, Mamma sees no company. I hope
she will be better to-morrow.

I have the honour, &c.

From ʁʁ, Aug. 13, 17ʁ.

LETTER 13

The MARCHIONESS DE MERTEUIL to CECILIA VOLANGES.

I am much concerned, my charming girl, to be deprived of the

pleasure of seeing you, as well as for the cause; I hope we shall
find another opportunity. I performed your commission with the
Chevalier Danceny, who will certainly be very sorry to hear of
your Mamma's indisposition; if she'll admit me to-morrow, I'll
wait on her. She and I will attack the Chevalier de Belleroche at
piquet7 ; and in winning his money, we shall have the double
pleasure of hearing you sing with your amiable master, to
whom I shall propose it. If it be agreeable to your Mamma and
you, I will answer for my two Knights and myself. Adieu, my
lovely girl! My compliments to Madame de Volanges. I embrace
you most affectionately.

From ʁʁ, Aug. 13, 17ʁ.

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