Christopher Hampton

My dearest Lytton, There is a great deal to say, and I feel very incompetent to write it today. You see, I knew there was nothing really to hope for from you, well, ever since the beginning. All these years, I have known all along that my life with you was limited. Lytton, you're the only person who I ever had an all-absorbing passion for. I shall never have another. I couldn't, now. I had one of the most self-abasing loves that a person can have. It's too much of a strain to be quite alone here, waiting to see you, or craning my nose and eyes out of the top window at 44, Gordon Square to see if you were coming down the street. Ralph said you were nervous lest I'd feel I have some sort of claim on you, and that all your friends wondered how you could have stood me so long, as I didn't understand a word of literature. That was wrong. For nobody, I think, could have loved the Ballards, Donne, and Macaulay's Essays and, best of all, Lytton's Essays, as much as I. You never knew, or never will know, the very big and devastating love I had for you. How I adored every hair, every curl of your beard. Just thinking of you now makes me cry so I can't see this paper. Once you said to me - that Wednesday afternoon in the sitting room - you loved me as a friend. Could you tell it to me again. Yours, Carrington.

Lytton, I love being with you. You're so cold - and wise. These last few months, whenever I know I'm going to see you I get so excited inside. If you want to kiss me again, I don't think I'd mind at all.

It makes me think, you're only interested in me sexually.

His conversations are so dull. He's like a Norwegian dentist.

If only I wasn't so - plural. Especially when people seem to want me so - conclusively.

When you've been married for as long as six weeks, you have no idea how pleasant it is to get away on your own.

When I came out into society, I was fifteen. I already knew that the role I was condemned to, namely to keep quiet and do what I was told, gave me the perfect opportunity to listen and observe. Not to what people told me, which naturally was of no interest, but to whatever it was they were trying to hide. I practiced detachment. I learned how to look cheerful while, under the table, I stuck a fork into the back of my hand. I became a virtuoso of deceit. It wasn't pleasure I was after, it was knowledge. I consulted the strictest moralists to learn how to appear, philosophers to find out what to think, and novelists to see what I could get away with. And in the end, I distilled everything to one wonderfully simple principle: win or die.

One does not applaud the tenor for clearing his throat.

Like most intellectuals, he's intensely stupid.

Well, I had no choice, did I? I'm a woman. Women are obliged to be far more skillful than men. You can ruin our reputation and our life with a few well-chosen words. So, of course, I had to invent, not only myself, but ways of escape no one has every thought of before. And I've succeeded because I've always known I was born to dominate your sex and avenge my own.

You'll find the shame is like the pain, you only feel it once.

When it comes to marriage, one man is as good as the next. And even the least accomodating is less trouble than a mother.

When one woman strikes at the heart of another she seldom misses, and the wound is invariably fatal.

'm saying, you stupid little girl, that provided you take a few elementary precautions you can do it or not as often as you like, with as many different men as you like, in as many different ways as you like.

One of the reasons I never re-married, despite a bewildering range of offers, was the determination NEVER AGAIN to be ordered about.

Adopt a less marital tone of voice.

Now, yes or no? It's up to you, of course. I will merely confine myself to remarking that a "no" will be regarded as a declaration of war. A single word is all that's required.

You see, I have no intention of breaking down her prejudices. I want her to believe in God and virtue and the sanctity of marriage, and still not be able to stop herself. I want the excitement of watching her betray everything that's is most important to her. Surely you understand that. I thought betrayal was your favorite word.

I ended by falling on my knees and pledging her eternal love. And do you know that, at that time, and for several hours afterwards, I actually meant it.

It's beyond my control.

Be careful of the Marquise de Merteuil.

Nevertheless, I must tell you in this affair, we are both her creatures, as I believe her letters to me will prove. When you have read them, you may decide to circulate them.

That is why this is most important to me. I want you to tell her that I cannot explain why I broke with her as I did, but that since then, my life has been worth nothing. I pushed the blade in deeper than you just have, my boy. And now I need you to help me withdraw it. Tell her it is lucky for her that I have gone, and I am glad not to have to live without her. Tell her her love was the only real happiness that I have ever known. Will you do that for me?

I had no idea you were staying here! Not that it would have disturbed me in the slightest if I had known. You see, until I met you, I had only ever experienced desire. Love, never.

No, no, you made an accusation and you must allow me the opportunity to defend myself! Now, I'm not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realize that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it. I didn't understand what was happening to me. And it was only when I began to feel actual, physical pain every time you left the room that it finally dawned on me: I was in love, for the first time in my life. I knew it was hopeless, but that didn't matter to me. And it's not that I want to have you. All I want is to deserve you. Tell me what to do. Show me how to behave. I'll do anything you say.

I feel as if I'm losing my all leaves…

Yeah.

The branches and the wind and the rain. I don't know what's happening anymore. Do you know what's happening?

All this business about the flat. I… I have nowhere to put my head down anymore. But I know my watch is on my wrist, that I do know. For the journey. If not, I… Don't know if I'll… be ready to, uh… To… To…

Paris. They don't even speak English there.

Who exactly am I?

I don't need any help from anyone. And I'm not going to leave my flat. All I want is for everyone to fuck off. Having said that... it's been a great pleasure. Au revoir. Toodle-oo.

Can I ask you a question?

Are you a nun?

Then why are you speaking to me as if I'm retarded?

I want my mummy.

I am worried. It's very worrying. I mean... Losing all my things, everyone's just helping themselves, and... If this goes on much longer, um, I'll be stark naked. And, um, I... I won't be able to tell what time it is.

Why don't you just fuck off with your medication?

World is turning.

They don't even speak English.

There's something doesn't make sense about this. Doesn't make sense.

There isn't much time. Robbie has to report for duty at six and he's got a train to catch. So sit down. There are some things you're going to do for us.

He certainly seems to think he's the cat's pajamas. Which is odd, considering he has pubic hair growing out of his ears. I should imagine he'd give you a lot of very noisy, boneheaded sons.

My darling, Briony found my address somehow and sent a letter. The first surprise was she didn't go up to Cambridge. She's doing nurse's training at my old hospital. I think she may be doing this as some kind of penance. She says she's beginning to get the full grasp of what she did and what it meant. She wants to come and talk to me. I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me.