Neither you, nor any one, will ever have the right to one moment of fatigue, one second of weakness, as long as the goal has not been reached--the absolute honor of our name. As for me, when I feel that I am falling under the united weight of all our suffering, when I feel that my reason is leaving me, then I think of you, of our dear children, of the undeserved dishonor cast upon our name, and I recover my balance by a violent effort of my whole being, and I cry to myself, “No, you shall not bend before the tempest! Your heart may be in bits, your brain may be crushed, but you shall not succumb until you have seen the day when honor shall be given back to your dear children!” This is why, dear Lucie, I come to cry to you always, to you, as to all, “Courage!” and more than courage--for will to accomplish!... Oh, silently, very silently--for words do not help--but boldly, audaciously to march straight onward to the end--the entire truth, the light upon this awful drama, in one word, all the honor of our name! Means? They must all be employed, of whatever nature they may be--anything that the mind can suggest to obtain the solution of this enigma. The object is everything; that alone is immutable. I wish our children to enter upon life with heads proudly erect. I wish to animate you with my supreme desire. I wish to see you succeed, and it will be full time, I swear to you! I hope that you may soon be able to tell me something certain, something positive, oh, for both of us, my dear Lucie! I cannot write to you at greater length, nor speak to you of anything else except my great and deep affection for you. My head is too tired by this bitter discipline, the most terrible, the most cruel that human brain can endure. Our dear little Pierre asks me to write to him. Ah, I am not strong enough! Each word wrings a sob from my throat and I am obliged to resist with all my strength in order to be with him on the day when they give us back our honor. Take him in your arms for me, as well as our dear little Jeanne. Oh, my precious children!... Draw from them your invincible courage. I embrace you with all the forces of my being, as I love you. ALFRED. Embrace your dear parents, all the family for me; my health is good. I received from you at the beginning of the month a dozen packages of provisions and some cardigans. I thank you for your touching care for me. I have not yet received any of the reviews and the books you announced in your letters of September, December, and January; not one of them has yet arrived at Cayenne. Please send the things so that they may come by parcels post. Either address them to me directly, care of the Director of the Penitentiary Service at Cayenne, or else have them addressed to me from the Ministry, at your own expense. * * * * * _26 March, 1896, evening._ Dear Lucie: