I must have patience; I must draw it from the deep well of your love, from the affection of all those who love us, and from the conviction that I shall ultimately be rehabilitated. A thousand kisses to the darlings. I embrace you as I love you. ALFRED. * * * * * Your letter tells me that they have refused to permit Me. Demange to see me; I hope, notwithstanding this, that they will soon accord him the permission. I count the hours until Friday, when I shall see you. Thanks for the good letters I receive from all. Thank them all for me and tell them that one of the best hours in my day is that which I pass in reading my letters. But I am incapable of answering all of them. I can say nothing except that I am resigned and that I expect that the truth will be discovered. _10 January, 1895, 9 A. M._ Since two o’clock this morning I could not sleep for thinking that to-day I should see you. It seems that even now I hear your sweet voice speaking to me of my dear children, of our dear families, and if I weep I am not ashamed of it, for the martyrdom that I endure is truly cruel for a man who is innocent. Who is the monster who has thrown the brand of evil, of dishonor, into a brave and honorable family? If there is such a thing as justice on this earth, there is no punishment too great to be reserved for him, no torture that should not some day be inflicted on him. But my courage is not weakening. I have painful moments, when my eyes are veiled by the mournful darkness of the present; but I comfort myself by looking forward to the future. Your devotion is so heroic--you are all making such powerful efforts, it is impossible that the truth shall be forever hidden. Besides that, the truth must be made plain, _it must be_; the will is a powerful lever. Now, at once, my darling, I am to have the joy of embracing you, of clasping you in my arms. I count the seconds which separate me from that happy moment. _Half-past 3 o’clock, P. M., 10 January, 1895._ The moment is passed, my darling; so quick, so short, that it seems to me I have not told you the twentieth part of what I had to say. How heroic you are, my adored one! How sublime is your self-forgetfulness, your devotion! I can do nothing but wonder at you. Under the combined influence of your loving sympathy and of your heroic efforts I have not the right to hesitate. I will suffer, then, I will not murmur, but let me when my heart overflows weep out my anguish on your breast.