You are sublime, my adored one, and I am amazed at your courage and
your heroism. I loved you before. To-day I kneel before you, for you are
a sublime woman. But do not allow yourself to be beaten down, I
supplicate you. Think of our children, who have need of you.
It may be that in my desire to be worthy of you, to reach the heights on
which you stand, I shall be able to hold out to the end. It is not
physical suffering that I fear--that has never been strong enough to
break me down; its blows glance off--but the torture of soul, the
knowledge that my name is dragged in the mire, the name of a man who is
innocent, the name of a man of honor. Cry it aloud, my darling; cry to
every one that I am innocent--the victim of terrible fatality.
Shall we ever succeed in discovering the real guilty one? Let us hope
it; to lose that hope would be to despair of everything.
I hope to see you soon, and that is my consolation. All the day, all the
night, my thoughts fly to you--to you all. I think of the happiness we
enjoyed, and I ask myself, even now, by what inexplicable fatality that
happiness was broken.
It is the most awful tragedy that it has ever been given me to read, and
instead of reading it, I must live it out, alas! Finally, be careful of
your own self, my darling. You need all your health, all your physical
vigor, if you are to bring to a successful end the task you have so
nobly undertaken.