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 simple 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
