"I do not apprehend my present perplexity will continue a long time.
I shall soon know whether or not I am deceived; I shall then perhaps have great injuries to repair, which I will do with as much cheerfulness as that with which the most agreeable act of my life has been accompanied.But do you know in what manner I will make amends for my faults during the short space of time I have to remain near to you? By doing what nobody but myself would do; by telling you freely what the world thinks of you, and the breaches you have to repair in your reputation.Notwithstanding all the pretended friends by whom you are surrounded, the moment you see me depart you may bid adieu to truth, you will no longer find any person who will tell it to you."THIRD LETTER FROM THE SAME.
Packet A, No.46.
"I did not understand your letter of this morning; this I told you because it was the case.I understand that of this evening; do not imagine I shall, ever return an answer to it; I am too anxious to forget what it contains; and although you excite my pity, I am not proof against the bitterness with which it has filled my mind.I!
descend to trick and cunning with you! I! accused of the blackest of all infamies! Adieu, I regret your having the- adieu.I know not what I say- adieu: I shall be very anxious to forgive you.You will come when you please; you will be better received than your suspicions deserve.All I have to desire of you is not to trouble yourself about my reputation.The opinion of the world concerning me is of but little importance in my esteem.My conduct is good, and this is sufficient for me.Besides, I am ignorant of what has happened to the two persons who are dear to me as they are to you.
This last letter extricated me from a terrible embarrassment, and threw me into another of almost the same magnitude.Although these letters and answers were sent and returned the same day with an extreme rapidity, the interval had been sufficient to place another between my rage and transport, and to give me time to reflect on the enormity of my imprudence.Madam d'Houdetot had not recommended to me anything so much as to remain quiet, to leave her the care of extricating herself, and to avoid, especially at that moment, all noise and rupture; and I, by the most open and atrocious insults, took the properest means of carrying rage to its greatest height in the heart of a woman who was already but too well disposed to it.I now could naturally expect nothing from her but an answer so haughty, disdainful, and expressive of contempt, that I could not, without the utmost meanness, do otherwise than immediately quit her house.
Happily she, more adroit than I was furious, avoided, by the manner of her answer, reducing me to that extremity.But it was necessary either to quit or immediately go and see her; the alternative was inevitable;I resolved on the latter, though I foresaw how much I must be embarrassed in the explanation.For how was I to get through it without exposing either Madam d'Houdetot or Theresa? and woe to her whom I should have named! There was nothing that the vengeance of an implacable and an intriguing woman did not make me fear for the person who should be the object of it.It was to prevent this misfortune that in my letter I had spoken of nothing but suspicions, that I might not be under the necessity of producing my proofs.This, it is true, rendered my transports less excusable; no ****** suspicions being sufficient to authorize me to treat a woman, and especially a friend, in the manner I had treated Madam d'Epinay.But here begins the noble task I worthily fulfilled of expiating my faults and secret weaknesses by charging myself with such of the former as Iwas incapable of committing, and which I never did commit.
I had not to bear the attack I had expected, and fear was the greatest evil I received from it.At my approach, Madam d'Epinay threw her arms about my neck, bursting into tears.This unexpected reception, and by an old friend, extremely affected me; I also shed many tears.I said to her a few words which had not much meaning;she uttered others with still less, and everything ended here.
Supper was served; we sat down to table, where, in expectation of the explanation I imagined to be deferred until supper was over, Imade a very poor figure; for I am so overpowered by the most trifling inquietude of mind that I cannot conceal it from persons the least clear-sighted.My embarrassed appearance must have given her courage, yet she did not risk anything upon that foundation.There was no more explanation after than before supper: none took place on the next day, and our little tete-a-tete conversations consisted of indifferent things, or some complimentary words on my part, by which, while I informed her I could not say more relative to my suspicions, I asserted, with the greatest truth, that, if they were ill-founded, my whole life should be employed in repairing the injustice.She did not show the least curiosity to know precisely what they were, nor for what reason I had formed them, and all our peace****** consisted, on her part as well as on mine, in the embrace at our first meeting.Since Madam d'Epinay was the only person offended, at least in form, I thought it was not for me to strive to bring about an eclaircissement for which she herself did not seem anxious, and I returned as I had come; continuing, besides, to live with her upon the same footing as before, I soon almost entirely forgot the quarrel, and foolishly believed she had done the same, because she seemed not to remember what had passed.