Yesterday I received a good letter from your sister; to-day one from your mother. I have, alas! nothing in particular to tell them. My life, you know it hour by hour. You can describe it to them as completely as I could. Tell your mother that she must not fear anything. I have nervous weakness, which is easily explained, but my mind remains strong. My soul needs the truth, it demands its honor, and it shall have it. I shall not belie your efforts. Sooner or later, my darling, our happiness will return to us. I have the firm conviction of this. The hardest of all is to have the patience that is absolutely necessary. Happy is it for you that you have a powerful diversion--action. Until to-morrow, my darling, when I shall have the pleasure of seeing you, of talking with you, of kissing you! A thousand kisses. Your devoted husband, ALFRED. Good kisses to the dear ones. * * * * * JANUARY AND FEBRUARY, 1895. THE PRISON OF SAINT-MARTIN DE RE. _19 January, 1895._ My Darling: Thursday evening, toward ten o’clock, they came to wake me to bring me here, where I arrived only last night. I do not want to speak of my journey, it would break your heart. Know only that I have heard the legitimate cries of a brave and generous people against him whom they believe to be a traitor, the lowest of wretches. I am no longer sure if I have a heart. Oh, what a sacrifice I made the day of my condemnation, when I promised you that I should not kill myself! What a sacrifice I made to the name of my poor, dear, little children, in bearing what I am undergoing! If there is a divine justice, we must hope that I shall be recompensed for this long and fearful torture, for this suffering of every minute and every instant. The other day your father told me that he would have preferred death. And I--I would rather, a hundred thousand times rather, be dead. But this right to die belongs to none of us; the more I suffer the more must it impel your courage and your resolution to find the truth. Look on for the truth, do not waver, do not rest. Let your efforts be in proportion to the sufferings which I have imposed upon myself. Will you please ask, or have some one ask, at the Ministry for the following authorizations; the Minister alone can accord them: 1. The right to write to all the members of my family--father, mother, brothers, and sisters. 2. The right to write and to work in my cell. At present I have neither _paper_, nor _pen_, nor _ink_. I am given only the sheet of paper on which I write to you; then they take away my pen and ink. 3. Permission to smoke. I beg you not to come before you are completely cured. The climate here is very rigorous, and you need all your health, first for our dear children, then for the end for which you are working. _As to my régime here, I am forbidden to speak to you of it._