It is true, indeed, that I have had moments of horrible despair. All this mask of infamy that I wear for the wretch who is guilty burns my face, it crushes my heart; everything, in truth, all my being, revolts against a moral situation so absolutely opposed to what I am. I do not know, my dear Lucie, what is the situation at the present hour, since your last letters were written more than two months ago; but no matter how the case now stands, say to yourself that a woman has all rights--sacred rights, if any are sacred, when she has to fulfill the highest mission which misfortune can force upon a wife and a mother. As I have also often told you, you have to ask only for a thorough search for the truth. You ought certainly to find among those who direct the affairs of our country men of heart who will be moved by this bitter anguish of a wife and a mother, who will understand this awful martyrdom of a soldier for whom honor is everything. I cannot believe that everything will not be put in motion to help you in bringing the truth to light, to help you in unmasking the wretch, or the wretches, creatures unworthy of pity, who have committed this horrible treachery. I can only give you the counsel which my heart suggests. You can appreciate better than I the means by which we may arrive at a prompt and complete rehabilitation. But I may still say this, that the only thought which should now occupy your mind is this: the care of guarding the honor of the name you bear--this is to assure the life, the future of our children. This is the end necessary, and you must attain it, whatever may be the means. There must not remain one single Frenchman who doubts my honor. Yours is a grand mission, and you are worthy to accomplish it. When honor shall be given back to us--and I hope for all our sakes it may be soon--I shall consecrate the remainder of my life to making you forget--yes, even you shall forget, my poor darling--these terrible months of pain and anguish; for, more than all others, you deserve to be happy and beloved for your great heart, for your wonderful strength of character. Then, be always strong and valiant. May my spirit, my profound love, sustain and guide you. My thoughts are constantly with you, with our dear little ones, with you all. Kisses to the children--to all. I embrace you with all my strength. ALFRED. * * * * * _2 August, 1895, 8 o’clock in the evening._ I had just ended this letter, so that it might leave to-morrow for Cayenne, when they brought me your letters of the month of April and your letters of June, with the letters of all the family. I have just read through your letters rapidly. I will answer at greater length by the next mail.