_Tuesday, 5 December, 1894._
My dear Lucie:
At last I can write a word to you; they have just told me that my trial
is set for the 19th of this month. I am refused the right to see you.
I will not tell you all that I have suffered; there are not in the world
words strong enough to express it. Do you remember when I used to tell
you how happy we were? Everything in life smiled on us. Then all at once
a fearful thunderbolt; my brain still is reeling with the shock. For me
to be accused of the most monstrous crime that a soldier can commit!
Even to-day I feel that I must be the victim of an awful nightmare.
But I hope in God and in justice. In the end the truth must come to
light. My conscience is calm and tranquil. It reproaches me with
nothing. I have done my duty, never have I turned from it. I have been
crushed to the earth, buried in my dark prison; alone with my reeling
brain. There have been moments when I have been nearly crazed,
ferocious, beside myself, but even in those moments my conscience was on
guard--“Hold up thy head!” it said to me. “Look the world in the face!
Strong in thy conscience go straight onward! Rise! The trial is bitter,
but it must be undergone!”