CECILE VOLANGES TO THE CHEVALIER DANCENY (A NOTE WRITTEN IN PENCIL, AND COPIED OUT BY DANCENY)
You ASK ME WHAT I am doing; I love you and I weep. My mother no longer speaks to me; she has taken pens, ink, and paper away from me; I am making use of a pencil which has happily been left to me, and I am writing on a fragment of your letter. I needs must approve all you have done; I love you too well not to take every means of having news of you and of giving you my own. I did not like M. de Valmont, and I did not know he was so great a friend of yours; I will try to get used to him, and I will love him for your sake. I do not know who it is that has betrayed us; it can only be my waiting maid or my confessor. I am very miserable: we are going to the country tomorrow; I do not know for how long. My God! to see you no more! I have no more room: adieu, try to read me. These words traced in pencil will perhaps be effaced, but never the sentiments engraved on my heart.
PARIS, 10TH SEPTEMBER, 17–.