For, alas! the energies of the heart, the forces of the brain, have their limits in a situation as atrocious as mine. I know, too, what you suffer, and it is appalling. This is why, often, in the moments of my anguish--for it is not possible to suffer so slowly without cries of agony, having but one wish to express, to be with you and with our children on the day when honor shall be given back to us--I have asked you to take steps to appeal to the Government, to those persons who possess sure, decisive means of investigation--means that they only have the right to employ. Whatever may come of it, and I think I have clearly expressed my thought, my conviction, I can but repeat to you with all my soul, Confidence and Faith! and wish for you, as for me, as for us all, that the efforts of one or of another may soon be crowned with success and may put an end to this appalling martyrdom of the soul. I embrace you as I love you, as I embrace also our dear children, from the depths of my heart. Your devoted ALFRED. Kisses to all. * * * * * _4 January, 1897._ My dear Lucie: I have just received your letters of November, also those of the family. The profound emotion that they cause me is always the same--indescribable. Your thoughts are mine, my dear Lucie; my thought never leaves you, never leaves our dear children, you all; and when my heart can bear no more, when I am at the end of my strength to resist this martyrdom, that crushes my heart incessantly as the grain is crushed in a mill, that tears all that is most pure, most noble, and most elevated within me, that dries up all the springs of my soul, then I cry to myself, always the same words: “However atrocious may be your suffering, march on still, so that you may be able to die at peace, knowing that you leave to your children an honored name, a respected name!” My heart, you know it, it has not changed. It is the heart of a soldier, indifferent to all physical suffering, who holds honor before, above all else; who has lived, who has resisted this fearful, this incredible, uprooting of everything that makes the Frenchman, the man, of all that makes it possible to live; who has borne it all because he is a father and because he must see to it that honor is restored to the name that his children bear. I have already written to you at length. I have tried to sum it all up to you, to explain to you why my confidence and my faith are absolute; that my confidence in the efforts of one and all is fully fixed; for believe it, be absolutely certain of it, the appeal that I again made in the name of our children, has revealed to those to whom I appealed a duty which men of heart will never attempt to evade. On the other hand, I know well all the sentiments that animate you all. I know them too well to ever think that there can be one moment of enervation in any one of you as long as the truth remains in darkness.