I have not received the things which you told me you were sending--that is to say, a sponge and some Kola-Chocolate. But do not give a thought to my material life; that is generously provided for by the preserves which are sent me from Cayenne. * * * * * _27 July, 1895._ My dear Lucie: I have already written to you on the 15th of the month. I can to-day give you tidings of myself, and cry to you as always, although I have no knowledge of the present state of affairs, “Courage and Faith!” My health is good. The spirit dominates the body, as it does everything else. Never will I admit the idea that it would be possible for our children to enter upon life with a dishonored name. It is from the inspiration of this thought, common to us both, that you ought to draw new life for your indomitable will. I have never feared the future, but there are moral situations which are of such a character that if a man has not deserved them, he must of necessity escape from them as much for our own sake as for the sake of our children, of our families. When a man asks, when he desires, nothing but the search for the truth, a search for the wretches who have committed the base and cowardly crime, he has a right to present himself everywhere with head erect. And this truth, it must be found, and you must find it. My innocence must be recognized by every one. I want to be with you and with the children when that day comes. Kiss the dear little ones. I live in them and in you. I embrace you with all my heart. Your devoted ALFRED. I hope to receive news of you before many days. * * * * * _2 August, 1895._ My dear Lucie: The mail from Cayenne arrived yesterday. I hoped to receive your letters as I did last month. This hope has been deferred. What shall I tell you, my dear and good Lucie, that I have not already said and repeated many times? If I have undergone the most shocking tortures, if I have borne up to this day a moral situation in which every instant is for me a wound, it has been because, innocent of that horrible treachery, I long for my honor--the honor of the name borne by our dear children. Had I been alone in the world, probably, unable to have regained my honor for myself, I should have acted in another way. Oh, in that case, I swear to you that I should have had the secret of this infernal machination. I should have left to the future the care of rehabilitating my memory. However incomprehensible to me this drama, in the end all would have been discovered--discovered naturally. But there you were, there were our children, who bear my name, there was my family. I had to live to reclaim my honor, to sustain you by my presence, by all the ardor of my soul, for--and this thought is before all else--our children must enter life with heads erect. This patience of soul which is not mine, which I never can possess, I impose it upon myself, for it is my duty.