Dangerous Liaisons by Choderlos De Laclos Learn more about the author, and save on books. CLICK HERE

Do not be angry. Listen to me. I shall confide to you, keeper of all my heart's secrets, the most ambitious plan I have ever conceived. What are you proposing? That I seduce a young girl who has seen nothing, knows nothing; who would be delivered up to me defenceless, so to speak; who would be certain to be bowled over at my first compliment and who would be swayed perhaps more rapidly by curiosity than by love. Twenty other men would have as much success as I. Not so with the business which occupies my thoughts. Its successful outcome assures me of glory as much as pleasure. The god of love himself, preparing my crown, cannot decide between the myrtle and the laurel, or rather he will weave them together to honour my triumph. You yourself, my love, will be struck with holy awe, and will say with enthusiasm: 'There goes a man after my own heart.'

You know the Presidente de Tourvel: her devotion, her love for her husband, her strict principles? She is the object of my attack. She is the enemy worthy of me. She is the goal I am aiming to reach;

"And though I fail to carry off the prize Still there is honour in the enterprise."

One may quote bad verse when it written by a great poet.

You will know that the President is in Burgundy as a result of an important trial: I hope to make him lose a more important one. His inconsolable better half has to spend the whole of her time during this distressing grass-widowhood here. Mass each day, a few visits to the poor in the canton, prayers morning and evening, solitary walks, pious conversations with my old aunt, and the occasional dreary game of whist. These were to be her only pleasures. I am preparing some more effective ones for her. My guardian angel has led me here for her happiness and for mine. What a fool I was, regretting the twenty-four hours that I was sacrificing out of respect for the conventions. I should be well and truly punished now if I were obliged to return to Paris! Happily four people are needed to play whist; and since there is no one here beside the local curate, my immortal aunt has been very pressing that I should give up a few days to her. I said I would, as you can guess. You cannot imagine how nice she has been to me ever since, and especially how edified she is at seeing me regularly at prayers and Mass. She does not suspect what divinity it is I adore.

So here am I, for the last four days victim of a powerful passion. You know how keen my desire is, how I thrive on obstacles; but what you do not know is how greatly solitude adds to the ardour of desire. I have now but one thought. I think about it by day; I dream of it by night. I really need to have this woman, to save me from the stupidity of being in love with her. For where does frustrated desire lead a man? O delicious pleasure! Come to me, I implore you, make me a happy man and above all bring me peace. How fortunate we are that women defend themselves so badly, or we should be nothing but their timid slaves. At this moment I have feelings of gratitude towards women of easy virtue, which brings me naturally to your feet. I prostrate myself before them to obtain my pardon, and there conclude this too lengthy epistle.

Adieu, my darling: no hard feelings.

From the Chateau de—, 5 August 17

LETTER FIVE

"The Marquise de Merteuil to the Vicomte de Valmont"

Do you know, Vicomte, your letter is uncommonly rude, and I might very well be angered by it. But it is a clear proof to me that you have taken leave of your senses, and that alone has saved you from my indignation. As your generous, sensitive friend, I shall forget the wrong you are doing to me so that I can think about the danger you are in; and however tedious it might be to reason with you, I concede your need of this at present.

You, have the Presidente de Tourvel! What a stupid fantasy! I recognize here your characteristic perverseness in wanting only what you believe to be unobtainable. What does this woman have to recommend her, then? Regular features, I suppose, but quite without expression; a fairly good figure, but she does not move well. And always dressed up in that silly fashion! With all those kerchiefs tied around her bosom and her bodice buttoned right up to her chin! I am telling you this as a friend: two women like that and you would lose all the reputation you have. Just remember that day when she was collecting alms at Saint-Roch, and you thanked me so profusely for affording you that spectacle? I can see her now, about to sink down at every step, her hand held out to that long-haired beanpole of a man, blushing at every bow and always overwhelming someone with her yards of skirt. Who would have thought then that you would one day desire this woman? Really, Vicomte, you should blush yourself and come to your senses. I shall keep your secret.

And besides, look what unpleasant things are in store for you! What rival are you up against? A husband! Don't you feel humiliated by that word? What shame if you fail! And how little glory in success! I would say more. Do not expect to derive any pleasure from this. Does one ever with prudes? I mean the real prudes. They hold back at the very heart of rapture and offer nothing but half-pleasures. That entire abandonment of the self, that delirious ecstasy where pleasure becomes purified by excess, all this wealth of love is unknown to them. I predict this: at very best your Presidente will believe she has given you her all by treating you as she does her husband, and even the tenderest conjugal intimacy is not so very intimate. In this case it is far worse. Your prude is religious, with a simple piety which means she is condemned to being a child for ever. Perhaps you will overcome that obstacle, but do not flatter yourself that you will remove it; you may be able to conquer her love of God but you will not overcome her fear of the Devil; and when you hold your mistress in your arms and feel her heart beating, it will be in fear, not love. Perhaps, had you come to know this woman earlier, you could have made something of her; but she is twenty-two, and she has been married for almost two years. Believe me, Vicomte, when prejudice has become so ingrained in a woman, it is best to leave her to her fate. She will never be anything but a nobody.

continued . . .

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Published by the Penguin Group, Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First published in 1782. Published in Penguin Classics 2007
Translation and editorial material copyright (c) Helen Constantine, 2007