Danceny's Despair

When they were left alone together, Danceny looked around the room, everywhere but at the man he hoped would help him. The room was airy and the artwork hideous. He fully expected to be questioned about his intentions, his dreams, about why he dared to love Cecile de Volanges, why he dared to hope she loved him too.

But Valmont remained collected and silent, so eventually Danceny found himself trying to study the man without seeming to do so. Valmont was older, a man of the world, and as such his dress and manner were completely correct. Danceny was searching for some idea how to present himself and his case. Words didn't come to him easily. Valmont cleared his throat. Was that encouragement or a warning?

So taking a deep breath, Danceny said, "I love her." Then since he wasn't stopped or questioned at that point, he plunged ahead. "I'm sure she loves me. There have been looks. We've never spoken of it, but I'm sure we have an understanding. Please understand, I'm not an arrogant man, but I cannot live without Cecile!"

Danceny studied Valmont again. Was that amusement he saw? Surely, he was mistaken. "If we can but exchange letters or have a few moments to talk, we can seal our love. Make our understanding concrete. I would not dare to compromise her. She's barely more than a child, but if we have declared ourselves, surely her family would understand."

"Please, can you help me?"

He looked up as though noticing Danceny for the first time. What drivel the boy spouted! He clearly did not know the first thing about love. "Dear fellow, her family will never understand, much less condone the attachment of their daughter to one such as you! I mean you no offence," he added casually, noticing the stung expression on the boy's face. "but you are hardly prime son-in-law material for a family like the Volanges. No, no, you must forget these honourable romantic notions of yours. If you want Cecile, you must take her before waiting makes you an old man." Old maid, more like, thought Valmont with a wry smile.

"But they must! I am certain--" But that was it, he wasn't positive. Not completely. He needed a way to communicate with her privately. "You don't understand at all. Love is pure and perfect. I would never dream of 'taking' her as you say." He couldn't afford to get angry at Valmont, so he moved away from the man and paced.

"As long as I know her true feelings, I would be willing to wait, even if it was the rest of my life. Can you understand a love like that?"

"No," he said simply, "and I don't believe you can either. Would you wait the rest of your life, faithful to Cecile, whilst her family marry her off with all speed to the Comte de Gercourt? That is their plan, I believe." When he got no reply, Valmont turned pointedly towards Danceny. "Well, would you? Could you? Could you teach their ten children to play the piano, knowing all the time that they might have been your ten children, if only you'd had the guts to take her when you had the chance?"

Danceny didn't answer because he was simply appalled at the idea. He stared at Valmont in disbelief. So that when the man went on in that vehement and detestable way, he had to restrain himself from slapping the man. "Don't you think I don't know that?"

"How dare you speak of Cecile in such terms! I know her family means to use her, but I will not demean her further. I want to save her, not drag her into the gutter. No man would cherish her like I would." Without quite realizing it, he'd drawn closer to Valmont, so that his last declaration was delivered inches from the man's face.

He didn't back away, not even flinch. Instead Valmont used the back of his hand to push the boy gently away, like an annoying gnat. "If you would save her, then do so! You will not save her through adoration from afar... no, do that and you merely spectate. You must take action, or be willing to take action. If Cecile feels the same way, she will understand and take action too." He sounded bored, as though a man who would not listen to his advice, was not worth the continued waste of breath in conversation.

He bristled, like an angry cat fluffing its fur, and retorted, "Action indeed! But not an action that would involve debasing a innocent flower. I would speak with her, so that we could plan our course together. I am ready to hear all you would advise except that."

"Ah, you merely want a messenger, well why didn't you say so?" Valmont was beginning to enjoy goading this young man, "Very well, I shall be your winged Mercury, but only until Cecile is married. As you will not 'act' then her wedding day must seal your fate and I will not be the bearer of news that can only drive a man to despair. By the way," he added quite unnecessarily, "I've heard, unofficially, that Cecile's betrothed ruts like a rampant stag... must be rather bruising for the doe, wouldn't you say?"

Not daring to show his irritation more overtly, Danceny merely glared at Valmont. "Why must you insist on vulgarity? The choice of action must wait until I know Cecile's heart and mind."

"I have a letter prepared if you should contrive to see her. Or better, arrange some way for us to speak privately, even for a few moments." He fished a sealed note from his inner pocket. "You can see my anxiety about this, can't you?"