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Les liaisons dangereuses, volume 1 (of 2) / or, Letters collected in a private society and published for the instruction of others cover

Les liaisons dangereuses, volume 1 (of 2) / or, Letters collected in a private society and published for the instruction of others

Chapter 69: LETTER THE SIXTIETH THE CHEVALIER DANCENY TO THE VICOMTE DE VALMONT
By Choderlos de Laclos
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About This Book

The narrative is assembled from letters exchanged among members of an elite social circle, each voice disclosing private schemes and motives. Two seasoned manipulators orchestrate seductions and betrayals that draw in a devout woman, an inexperienced young woman, and a hopeful young musician, treating intimacy as a tool of influence. The correspondence lays bare hypocrisy, sexual politics, and the fragile value of reputation while shifting perspective between conspirators and victims. As secrets accumulate, the letters trace the widening harm of calculated deceit and leave readers with unresolved questions about responsibility and moral consequence.

LETTER THE SIXTIETH
THE CHEVALIER DANCENY TO THE VICOMTE DE VALMONT

(Enclosed in the preceding letter)

Ah, Monsieur, I am in despair, I have lost all! I dare not confide to writing the secret of my woes: but I feel a need to unburden them in the ear of a sure and trusty friend. At what hour could I see you, and ask you for advice and consolation? I was so happy on the day when I opened my soul to you! Now, what a difference! All is changed with me. What I suffer on my own account is but the least part of my torments; my anxiety on behalf of a far dearer object, that is what I cannot support. Happier than I, you will be able to see her, and I count on your friendship not to refuse me this favour: but I must see you and instruct you. You will pity me, you will help me; I have no hope save in you. You are a man of sensibility, you know what love is, and you are the only one in whom I can confide; do not refuse me your aid.

Adieu, Monsieur; the only alleviation of my pain is the reflexion that such a friend as yourself is left to me. Let me know, I beg you, at what hour I can find you. If it is not this morning, I should like it to be early in the afternoon.

Paris, 8th September, 17**.