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_Thursday, 10 o’clock in the evening, 27 December, 1894._
My dear Lucie:
Your heroism has conquered me. Strong in your love, strong in my
conscience and in the immovable support I find in our two families, I
feel my courage born again.
I shall struggle therefore to my last breath. I shall struggle to my
last drop of blood.
It is not possible that light shall not be some day let in upon this
crime. With the feeling that your heart is beating close to mine I
shall bear all the martyrdoms, all the humiliations, without bowing my
head. The thought of you, my darling, will give me the strength needful.
My dear, adored one, women certainly are superior to us; and among women
you are of the most beautiful and the most noble!
I always loved you deeply; you know it. To-day I do more--I marvel at
and venerate you. You are a holy, a noble, woman. I am proud of you, and
I will try to be worthy of you.
Yes, it would be cowardice to desert life. It would be to taint my
name--the name of my dear children--to sully that name forever. I
realize that to-day; but how could it be otherwise? The blow was cruel;
it broke down my courage; it is you who have lifted me up.
Your soul makes mine tremble.
So, leaning one on the other, proud of one another, we shall succeed, by
force of will, in clearing our name from dishonor. We shall remove the
stain from that honor that has never failed us.