Adieu, my charming friend! I fly to achieve this grand event.
Paris, Nov. 15, 17—.
[1] [Letters xlvi] and [xlvii].
[LETTER CXXXIX.]
The Presidente DE TOURVEL to MADAME DE ROSEMONDE.
How I reproach myself, my dear friend, for having wrote too soon, and said too much of my transitory troubles! I am the cause you at present are afflicted; the chagrin I have given you still continues, and I am happy; yes, every thing is forgot, and I forgive; or rather all is cleared up. Calm and delight succeed this state of grief and anguish; how shall I express the ecstasy of my heart! Valmont is innocent: with so much love there can be no guilt—those heavy offensive crimes with which I loaded him so bitterly, he did not deserve; and although I was right in one single point, yet I was to make reparation for my unjust suspicions.
I will not relate minutely the circumstances of facts or reasonings in his justification—Perhaps even the mind would but badly appreciate them—it is the heart only can feel them. However, were you even to suspect me of weakness, I would call on your judgment in support of my own; you say among men infidelity is not inconstancy.
Not but I am sensible, this opinion, which custom authorises, hurts delicacy: but why should mine complain, when Valmont’s suffers more? This same injury which I forget, I do not think he forgives himself; and yet he has immensely repaired this trivial error, by the excess of his love, and my happiness!