* * * * *
_Wednesday, 10 P. M._
I do not sleep, and it is to you that I return. Am I then marked by a
fatal seal, that I must drink this cup of bitterness! At this moment I
am calm. My soul is strong, and it rises in the silence of the night.
How happy we were, my darling! Life smiled on us; fortune, love,
adorable children, a united family--Everything! Then came this
thunderbolt, fearful, terrible. Buy, I pray of you, playthings for the
children, for their New Year’s day; tell them that their father sends
them. It must not be that these poor souls, just entering upon life,
should suffer through our pain.
Oh, my darling, had not I you how gladly would I die! Your love holds me
back; it is your love only that makes me strong enough to bear the
hatred of a nation.
And the people are right to hate me: they have been told that I am a
traitor. Ah, traitor, the horrible word! It breaks my heart.
I ... traitor! Is it possible that they could accuse me and condemn me
for a crime so monstrous!
Cry aloud my innocence; cry it with all the strength of your lungs; cry
it upon the house-tops, till the very walls fall.
And hunt out the guilty one. It is he whom we must find.