The following evening. Merteuil’s salon. She looks up as VALMONT bursts ebulliently into the room, outpacing the MAJORDOMO.
VALMONT: Success.
MERTEUIL: At last.
VALMONT: But worth waiting for.
(MERTEUIL flashes a chilly look at him, but he’s too exhilarated to notice.)
MERTEUIL: So it worked, your foolproof plan?
VALMONT: Of course it wasn’t foolproof, I was exaggerating to cheer myself up, but I did prepare the ground as carefully as I could. And I must say, considering these last few weeks my letters were all returned unopened, or rather my letter, since I simply placed it every other day in a fresh envelope, the result has been a genuine triumph.
(By this time, he’s taken a seat and he pauses, beaming complacently at MERTEUIL.)
MERTEUIL: And the plan?
VALMONT: I discovered, by intercepting her correspondence in the usual way, that she had very wisely decided to change her confidante and was pouring out all her inmost thoughts to my aunt. So very subtly, and aided by the fact I looked terminally exhausted as a result of my exertions with Cécile, I began to hint to my aunt that I was losing the will to live, knowing that this would be passed on. At the same time, I began corresponding with her confessor, an amiably dim-witted Cistercian, whom I more or less forced to arrange the meeting with her, in return for the privilege of being allowed to save my soul, a privilege he will now, poor man, be obliged to forgo. So, the threat of suicide, the promise of reform.
MERTEUIL: I’m afraid I can’t say I find that very original.
VALMONT: Effective though.
VALMONT: Well, I arrived about six …
MERTEUIL: Yes, I think you may omit the details of the seduction, they’re never very enlivening: just describe the event itself.
VALMONT: It was … unprecedented.
MERTEUIL: Really?
VALMONT: It had a kind of charm I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. Once she’d surrendered, she behaved with perfect candour. Total mutual delirium: which for the first time ever with me outlasted the pleasure itself. She was astonishing. So much so that I ended by falling on my knees and pledging her eternal love. And do you know, at the time, and for several hours afterwards, I actually meant it!
MERTEUIL: I see.
VALMONT: It’s extraordinary, isn’t it?
MERTEUIL: Is it? It sounds to me perfectly commonplace.
VALMONT: No, no, I assure you. But of course the best thing about it is that I am now in a position to be able to claim my reward.
(Silence, MERTEUIL considers him coldly for a moment.)
MERTEUIL: You mean to say you persuaded her to write you a letter as well, in the course of this awesome encounter?
VALMONT: No. I didn’t necessarily think you were going to be a stickler for formalities.
MERTEUIL: Do you know, Vicomte, even if you had arrived with a letter up your sleeve, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have had to declare our arrangement null and void?
VALMONT: What do you mean?
MERTEUIL: I’m not accustomed to being taken for granted.
VALMONT: But there’s no question of that, my dear. You mustn’t misunderstand me. What in another case might be taken for presumption, between us, can surely be accepted as a sign of our friendship and confidence in each other. Can’t it?
MERTEUIL: I’ve no wish to tear you away from the arms of someone so astonishing.
VALMONT: We’ve always been frank with one another.
MERTEUIL: And, as a matter of fact, I have also taken a new lover, who, at the moment, is proving more than satisfactory.
VALMONT: Oh? And who is that?
MERTEUIL: I am not in the mood for confidences this evening. Don’t let me keep you.
(Silence. For a moment, VALMONT is at a loss. Then he decides to persevere.)
VALMONT: You can’t seriously imagine there’s a woman in the world I could ever prefer to you?
MERTEUIL: I’m sure you’re quite willing to accept me as an addition to your harem.
VALMONT: No, no, you’ve misinterpreted. What you think is vanity, taking you for granted: it’s really only eagerness.
(MERTEUIL’s expression softens slightly, for the first time. VALMONT is quick to sense this and immediately tries to press home his advantage.)
I’d sacrifice anything or anybody to you, you know that.
MERTEUIL: All right, Vicomte, let’s try to discuss this calmly, shall we, like friends?
VALMONT: By all means.
MERTEUIL: There’s a strange thing about pleasure, haven’t you noticed? It’s the only thing that brings the sexes together; and yet it’s not sufficient in itself to form the basis of a relationship. You see, unless there’s some element of love involved, pleasure must lead directly to disgust.
VALMONT: I’m not sure I agree with that.
MERTEUIL: Now, fortunately, it’s only necessary for this love to exist on one side. The partner who feels it is naturally the happier; while the partner who doesn’t is to some extent compensated by the pleasures of deceit.
VALMONT: I don’t think I see your point.
MERTEUIL: My point, Vicomte, is that you and I can in no way conform to this essential pattern, and we may as well admit it. Cardsharps sit at separate tables.
VALMONT: Yes, and then they compare notes.
MERTEUIL: Maybe: but without, I think, dealing a new hand.
VALMONT: I can’t entirely accept the analogy.
MERTEUIL: Don’t worry: I shan’t go back on our agreement. I have to go away for a couple of weeks …
VALMONT: What for?
MERTEUIL: A private matter.
VALMONT: There was a time you kept no secrets from me.
MERTEUIL: Don’t you want me to finish what I was saying?
VALMONT: Of course, I’m sorry.
MERTEUIL: When I’ve returned, and on receipt of this famous letter, you and I will spend a single night together. I’m sure we shall find it quite sufficient. We shall enjoy it enough to regret that it’s to be our last; but then we shall remember that regret is an essential component of happiness. And part the best of friends.
VALMONT: I think we should take it one step at a time, don’t you?
MERTEUIL: No. I think we should be under no illusions.
VALMONT: You see, I don’t think I’ve ever been unfaithful to you.
MERTEUIL: You know, Vicomte, instead of trying to work on me in this, let’s be frank, mechanical fashion, you should be thanking me.
VALMONT: What for?
MERTEUIL: My courage. My stout resistance. My clear-sightedness. I understand, you see, what’s going on.
VALMONT: Well, that’s more than I can claim.
MERTEUIL: I know. You may genuinely be unaware of this. But I can see quite plainly that you’re in love with this woman.
VALMONT: No. You’re wrong. Not at all.
MERTEUIL: Have you forgotten what it’s like to make a woman happy; and to be made happy yourself?
VALMONT: I … of course not.
MERTEUIL: We loved each other once, didn’t we? I think it was love. And you made me very happy.
VALMONT: And I could again. We just untied the knot, it was never broken. It was nothing but a temporary … failure of the imagination.
MERTEUIL: No, no. There would have to be sacrifices you couldn’t make and I wouldn’t deserve.
VALMONT: But I told you: any sacrifice you ask.
MERTEUIL: Illusions, of course, are by their nature sweet.
VALMONT: I have no illusions. I lost them on my travels. Now I want to come home. As for this present infatuation, it won’t last. But, for the moment, it’s beyond my control.
(Silence. She looks at him for a moment, considering.)
MERTEUIL: You’ll be the first to know when I return.
VALMONT: Make it soon. I want it to be very soon.
(He kisses her. She seems on the point of submitting to a long kiss, but then she breaks away abruptly and speaks with her usual control.)
MERTEUIL: Goodbye.
(VALMONT bows and hurries from the room. MERTEUIL stands a moment, collecting herself, then she crosses the room and opens a door.)
He’s gone.
(Presently, DANCENY steps into the room. He embraces her impulsively and, once again, she submits only briefly.)
DANCENY: I thought he’d be here all night. Time has no logic when I’m not with you: an hour is like a century.
MERTEUIL: We shall get on a good deal better if you make a concerted effort not to sound like the latest novel.
(DANCENY blushes.)
DANCENY: I’m sorry, I …
(MERTEUIL softens and reaches a hand to his cheek.)
MERTEUIL: Never mind. Take me upstairs.
(Arm in arm, they begin to move towards the door.)