A man of my acquaintance was entangled, like you, with a woman who did him little honour. He had indeed, at intervals, the wit to feel that, sooner or later, this adventure would do him harm: but although he blushed for it, he had not the courage to break it off. His embarrassment was all the greater in that he had boasted to his friends that he was entirely free; and that he was well aware that, when one meets with ridicule, it is always increased by self-defence. He passed his life thus, never ceasing to commit follies, never ceasing to say afterwards: It is not my fault. This man had a friend, and she was tempted at one moment to give him up to the public in this state of frenzy, and thus render his ridicule indelible: however, being more generous than malicious, or, perhaps, for some other motive, she wished to make one last attempt, so that, whatever happened, she might be in a position to say, like her friend: It is not my fault. She sent him, therefore, without any other explanation, the following letter, as a remedy whose application might be useful to his disease:
“One tires of everything, my angel: it is a law of nature; it is not my fault.
If, then, I am tired to-day of an adventure which has occupied me exclusively for four mortal months, it is not my fault.
If, for instance, I had just as much love as you had virtue, and that is saying much, it is not surprising that one should finish at the same time as the other. It is not my fault.
Hence it follows that for some time past I have deceived you: but then your pitiless fondness in some measure forced me to it! It is not my fault.
To-day, a woman whom I love to distraction demands that I sacrifice you. It is not my fault.
I am very sensible that here is a fine opportunity for calling me perjured: but, if nature has only gifted men with constancy, whilst it has given women obstinacy, it is not my fault.
Believe me, take another lover, as I have taken another mistress. This advice is good, very good; if you think it bad, it is not my fault.
Adieu, my angel; I took you with pleasure, I leave you without regret: perhaps I shall return. This is the way of the world. It is not my fault.”
It is not the moment, Vicomte, to tell you the effect of this last attempt, and what resulted from it: but I promise to let you know in my next letter. You will find there also my ultimatum as to the renewal of the treaty you propose. Until then, quite simply, adieu....