I always loved you deeply; you know it. To-day I do more--I marvel at and venerate you. You are a holy, a noble, woman. I am proud of you, and I will try to be worthy of you. Yes, it would be cowardice to desert life. It would be to taint my name--the name of my dear children--to sully that name forever. I realize that to-day; but how could it be otherwise? The blow was cruel; it broke down my courage; it is you who have lifted me up. Your soul makes mine tremble. So, leaning one on the other, proud of one another, we shall succeed, by force of will, in clearing our name from dishonor. We shall remove the stain from that honor that has never failed us. I embrace you as I love you. ALFRED. * * * * * _Thursday, 11 o’clock in the evening._ I almost hoped to receive one more word from you this evening. If you could only know with what happiness I receive your letters, with what intoxication I read and re-read them all day long! Good-night; sleep well, my darling. We will live still for each other. _Friday, 10 o’clock in the morning, 28 December, 1894._ My dear Lucie: I have received your good letter dated yesterday at noon. You are right. I must live. I must live for you--for our dear children, whose name I must restore to honor. Whatever may be the terrible tortures of soul I endure, I must resist. I have no right to desert my post. If I were alone, I should not hesitate; but your name, the name of my family--everything, all we have, is attacked. We must arm with all our courage for the struggle. By the force of our energy, our will, we shall triumph. In the end they shall speak out. Supported, sustained by your unfailing courage, we shall conquer. Write to me often. You must relieve each other in writing; write to me in turn. Each one of your letters soothes me. It seems to me that I hear you speak--that I hear your dear parents speak. I embrace you and all your dear family. A thousand tender kisses to the children. ALFRED. * * * * * _Friday, noon._ I received your letter dated Thursday evening, also the good words from Pierrot. Embrace the darling tenderly for me. Give Jeanne a kiss for me. Yes, I must live. I must summon all my energy to wash out the stain which sullies the name of my children. I should be cowardly should I desert my post. I will live; I will! I embrace you. ALFRED. _Monday, 31 December, 1894._ My dear Lucie: I thought a long time last night of my father, of all my family. I do not hide from you that I wept long. But the tears comforted me. Our consolation is the deep affection that unites us all; it is the affection which I find in your family as in my own.