I think of you; I think of you all. If this consoling thought did not sustain me, if I could not feel through the thick walls of my prison the strengthening breath of your sympathy, I believe that I should lose my hold on reason and that despair would enter my soul. It is your love, it is the affection of you all, that gives me the courage to live on. Me. Demange has just been here. He stayed some minutes with me. His faith in me is absolute; that also gives me courage. It is not physical suffering that affrights me--I am able to bear that--but this continual torture of soul, this contempt that is to pursue me everywhere. I, so proud, so sure of my honor, it is that that I find so terrible; that that I shrink from. Well, my darling, I will not torture your heart any longer; your grief is already great enough. I embrace you fondly. ALFRED. * * * * * _Wednesday, 10 P. M._ I do not sleep, and it is to you that I return. Am I then marked by a fatal seal, that I must drink this cup of bitterness! At this moment I am calm. My soul is strong, and it rises in the silence of the night. How happy we were, my darling! Life smiled on us; fortune, love, adorable children, a united family--Everything! Then came this thunderbolt, fearful, terrible. Buy, I pray of you, playthings for the children, for their New Year’s day; tell them that their father sends them. It must not be that these poor souls, just entering upon life, should suffer through our pain. Oh, my darling, had not I you how gladly would I die! Your love holds me back; it is your love only that makes me strong enough to bear the hatred of a nation. And the people are right to hate me: they have been told that I am a traitor. Ah, traitor, the horrible word! It breaks my heart. I ... traitor! Is it possible that they could accuse me and condemn me for a crime so monstrous! Cry aloud my innocence; cry it with all the strength of your lungs; cry it upon the house-tops, till the very walls fall. And hunt out the guilty one. It is he whom we must find. I embrace you as I love you. ALFRED. * * * * * _Thursday, 10 o’clock in the evening, 27 December, 1894._ My dear Lucie: Your heroism has conquered me. Strong in your love, strong in my conscience and in the immovable support I find in our two families, I feel my courage born again. I shall struggle therefore to my last breath. I shall struggle to my last drop of blood. It is not possible that light shall not be some day let in upon this crime. With the feeling that your heart is beating close to mine I shall bear all the martyrdoms, all the humiliations, without bowing my head. The thought of you, my darling, will give me the strength needful. My dear, adored one, women certainly are superior to us; and among women you are of the most beautiful and the most noble!