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_Monday, 18 December, 1894._
My dear Lucie:
I received to-day only your good letter of Saturday. I could not send my
letter yesterday; the offices were closed and my letter could not have
passed out.
How you must suffer, my poor darling! I can imagine it by comparing your
suffering to my own, because I cannot see you. But we must know how to
bear up, to hold our own against suffering; we must be resigned; we
must preserve all dignity of conduct.
Let us show that we are worthy of one another; that trials, even the
most cruel, even the most undeserved, cannot beat us down.
When the conscience is clear we can, as you say so truly, bear
everything; suffer everything. It is my conscience alone that has
enabled me to resist; had it not been for that I should have died of
sorrow, or I should be shut up in a mad-house.
Even now I cannot look back to those first days without a shiver of
horror. My brain was like a boiling cauldron; at each instant I feared
that my reason would leave me.
Do not be worried by the irregularity of my letters; you know that I
cannot write as I would like to; but be strong and brave; be careful of
your health.
Thanks for all the news you give me of our friends. Tell them that I
have often thought of them; of the grief they must feel. It must bind us
in a union that nothing can ever break. Our pure, honorable life, all
the past of all our kindred, our devotion to France, are the best
guarantees of what we are.
I have received two good letters from J. and R.; they have given me
great pleasure.
I thank you also for the news you give me of the children. Ah, the poor
darlings! What joy it will be to me to be able to embrace them and you,
my good darling! But I will not allow myself to think of it; for then
everything seems to melt within me.
The bitterness of my heart rises to my lips--and I must preserve all my
strength.
Thank M. and my brothers and my sisters and all the family for what
they have done for me. Embrace them for me.
I will stop, for every memory of the happiness I have known among you
all revives my grief.
To have sacrificed everything for my Country, to have served her with
entire devotion, with all my strength, with all my intelligence, and
then to be accused of such a frightful crime--no, no!
Write to me often; write long letters. My best moments are those when I
receive news of you all.
A thousand kisses for you and for the children.