My health is good. I continue to struggle against everything so that I may be there with you, with our children, on the day when my honor is given back to me. I hope ardently, for your sake as for mine, that that day may not be too long delayed. I expect to receive news of you in a few days, and as always, I am waiting for it with feverish impatience. I shall write to you more at length when I shall have received your letters. Kiss both the children many, many times for me. Their dear little letters, like yours, like the letters from all our friends, are my daily reading. I need not tell you the thrill of happiness they give. And for yourself the best, the tenderest kisses of your devoted ALFRED. * * * * * _5 February, 1896._ My dear Lucie: The mail has arrived, and it has brought me no letter. I need not tell you what bitter disappointment. I could tell you what deep grief I feel when this only consolation, your dear beloved words, do not come to me. But, as I have said before, of what importance are sufferings--I dare even call them tortures--however atrocious, however horrible they may be, for the object which you are now pursuing dominates everything, it is above all else, and beyond all else--the honor of our name, the honor of our dear, adored children. As for me, dear Lucie, you are my strength, my invincible strength, so high are you in my love, in my tenderness. Like my children, you dictate to me my duty. Say to yourself that if often the violence of feelings, that are at times atrocious, wrings a groan from my heart and makes my brain reel; if at times the unending hours and the climate exceed my strength of forbearance, and my very flesh cry out, my determination remains unshaken.