I have never been discouraged, I have never doubted that a will strong in its innocence and in the duty it has to accomplish could fail to attain its object. I have had, perhaps may again have, attacks of febrile impatience, the revolts of an ardent spirit, that has for so long been crushed under foot, weighed down by this sepulchral silence, this enervating climate, the frequent absence of news, nothing to do, and often nothing to read. But if the tension of my nervous system was extreme during the last three months of 1895--that was the hottest season, the worst season in Guiana--my courage never weakened, for it was it that held me up, that permitted me to double the dangerous cape without flinching. Do not lay any stress upon this nervousness which breaks out at times. Tell yourself that I am determined to be with you, at your side, on the day when honor shall be given back to us. Your will, the will of you all, must continue to be what it has always been, as great, as unconquerable as it is calm and thoughtful. My health is good; my body, indifferent to everything, animated by but one thought, common to us all, common, as your dear mother has said, to this whole sheaf of hearts, quivering with pain, lives for the honor so unjustly wrested from us. And remember that if I at times have moments of personal weakness, under the repeated shocks of this trying hour, I have also a talisman, to reanimate me, to give me strength, the thought of you, of my children--in a word, my duty. The lines in which you speak to me of the dear children give me great pleasure; they permit me to see the children in my thoughts. Embrace the darlings tenderly for me. So, my dear and good Lucie, courage always. Hold your head proudly high until the day comes when, side by side, we can forget this horrible drama. Let us hope for all our sakes that that hour may be at hand. I embrace you as I love you. Your devoted ALFRED. Kisses to all. * * * * * _26 January, 1896._ You ask me, my dear and good Lucie, to write you long letters. What can I tell you that you do not feel in your own heart better than I could tell it? My heart is always with you; it is torn when it feels you suffer pangs so unmerited, and can do nothing to help you, except to suffer equally itself. My spirit night and day is with you; it would sustain and animate you with its ardent fervor. I can only repeat what I have so often said, the end is everything; the honor of our name, the honor of our children; and that must be attained against all obstacles, in spite of everything. But the situation is so atrocious, as well for you as for me, that our activities, which should be of every kind, as they should be of every hour, far from weakening, ought, on the contrary, to grow still stronger and tax their ingenuity to the utmost in order to succeed in making the truth shine in all its brilliancy.