Nor is that even all: I should be capricious. The sacrifice of the little Cécile, which you offer me with so good a grace, I should not care about at all. I should ask you, on the contrary, to continue this troublesome service until fresh orders on my part, whether because I should like thus to abuse my empire, or that, more indulgent or more just, it would suffice me to dispose of your feelings, without wishing to thwart your pleasures. Be that as it may, I would fain be obeyed; and my orders would be very rigorous!
’Tis true that then I should think myself obliged to thank you; and who knows? Perhaps even to reward you. For instance, I should assuredly shorten an absence which would become insupportable to me. In short, I should see you again, Vicomte, and I should see you ... how?... But you must remember this is no more than a conversation, a plain narrative of an impossible project, and I would not be the only one to forget it....
Do you know that my law-suit makes me a little uneasy? I wanted, at last, to know exactly what my prospects were; my advocates, indeed, quote me sundry laws, and above all many authorities, as they call them: but I cannot see so much reason and justice in them. I am almost inclined to regret that I declined the compromise. However, I am reassured when I reflect that the attorney is skilful, the advocate eloquent, and the plaintiff pretty. If these three arguments were to be of no more worth, it would be necessary to change the whole course of affairs; and what, then, would become of the respect for ancient customs?
This law-suit is now the only thing which retains me here. That of Belleroche is finished: non-suited, costs divided. He is regretting this evening’s ball; it is indeed the regret of the unemployed! I will restore him his complete liberty on my return to town. I make this grievous sacrifice for him, but am consoled by the generosity he finds in it.
Adieu, Vicomte; write to me often. The particulars of your pleasures will recompense me, at least in part, for the tedium I undergo.
At the Château de ..., 11th November, 17**.
LETTER THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIFTH
THE PRÉSIDENTE DE TOURVEL TO MADAME DE ROSEMONDE
I am endeavouring to write to you, without yet knowing if I shall be able. Ah God! When I think of my last letter, which my excessive happiness prevented me from continuing! It is the thought of my despair which overwhelms me now, which leaves me only strength enough to feel my sorrows, and deprives me of the power of expressing them.
Valmont—Valmont no longer loves me, he has never loved me. Love does not vanish thus. He deceives me, betrays me, outrages me. All misfortunes and humiliations that can be heaped together I experience, and it is from him that they come!
Do not suppose that this is a mere suspicion: I was so far from having any! I have not even the consolation of a doubt: what could he say to justify himself?... But what matters it to him! He will not even make the attempt.... Unhappy wretch! What will thy reproaches and tears avail with him? He is far from thinking of thee!