Dangerous Liaisons

Letter 1

Cecilia Volanges to Sophia Carnay, at the Convent of the Ursulines of ———

You see, my dear friend, I keep my word, and that dress does not totally take up all my time; I shall ever have some left for you. In this single day I have seen more finery of attire, than in the four years we have spent together; and I believe the haughty Tanville1 will be more mortified at my first visit, when I shall certainly desire to see her, than she used to be every time she came to see us in fiochi. Mamma advises with me in everything; she behaves to me no longer as a boarder in a convent. I have a chambermaid to myself; a chamber and a closet of my own, and a very pretty scrutoire, of which I keep the key, and where I can lock up everything. My Mamma has told me, I must be with her every morning at her levee; that it would be sufficient to have my head dressed by dinner, because we should always be alone, and that then she would each day tell me what time I should come to her apartment in the evening. The remainder of my time is at my own disposal; I have my harpsichord, my drawings, and books, just as in the convent, only that the mother abbess is not here to scold. And I may always be idle, if I please: but as I have not my dear Sophy to chat and laugh with, I am as well pleased with some occupation. It is not yet five, and I am not to go to Mamma till seven: what a deal of time, if I had anything to tell you! but nothing has been yet mentioned to me of any consequence: and if it were not for the preparations I see making, and the number of women employed for me, I should be apt to think they have no notion of my nuptials, and that it was one of old Josephine’s2 tales. Yet Mamma having so often told me, that a young lady should remain in a convent, until she was on the point of marriage, and having now brought me home, I am apt to think Josephine right.

A coach has just stopped at our door, and Mamma has sent for me. If it should be my intended!—I am not dressed, and am all in agitation; my heart flutters. I asked my maid, if she knew who was with my Mamma? “Why,” says she, laughing, “it is Mr. C——.” I really believe it is he. I will certainly return and write you the whole; however, that’s his name. I must not make them wait. Adieu, for a moment!