Say to yourself, that while the head may bow before some misfortunes, that while commonplace condolences may be received in some situations, when it is a question of honor there can be no consolations, but only a goal to be struggled for so long as we can keep up to have that honor restored to us. Then, for you, as for all of us, I can only cry from the depths of my soul, _Lift up your hearts_! There must be no recrimination, no complaint, nothing but the unswerving march onward to our end--the wretch or the wretches who are really guilty--and we must attain our end as soon as possible. As I have already told you, there must not remain one single Frenchman who can doubt our honor. Kiss our dear children with all your heart for me, and yourself a thousand kisses the most tender, the most affectionate kisses of your devoted ALFRED. Embrace your dear parents, all our family and friends for me. In the mail which I have just received I have not found letters from any of my sisters except Henriette. I hope that these dear sisters are not sick from these terrible and continued trials. * * * * * _22 May, 1896._ My dear Lucie: Your good and most affectionate letters of March have been the dear and sweet companions of my solitude. I have read them and re-read them to recall to me my duty each time that the situation was crushing me with its weight. I have suffered with you, with you all; all the frightful anguish through which you have passed has echoed in my own.