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_Sunday, 5 o’clock, 6 January, 1895._
Forgive me, my adored one, if in my letters yesterday I poured out my
grief and made a parade of my torture. I must confide them to some one.
What heart is better prepared than yours to receive the overflowing
grief of mine? It is your love that gives me courage to live; I must
feel the thrill of your love close to my heart. Let us show that we are
worthy of each other; that you are a noble, a sublime wife.
Courage, then, my darling. Do not think too much of me; you have other
duties to fulfil. You owe yourself to our dear children, to our name,
which must be restored to honor. Think, then, of all the noble duties
incumbent upon you. They are heavy, but I know that you will be capable
of undertaking, of accomplishing them all, if you do not let yourself be
beaten down--if you preserve your strength.
You must struggle, therefore, against yourself. Summon all your energy;
think only of your duties.
As to me, my darling, your know that I suffered yesterday even more than
you can imagine. I shall tell you how much some day, when we are once
more happy and united. For the present I hope but one thing. Since I am
useless to you here, and since, on the other hand, the search for the
guilty man will, I fear, be a long one, I hope to be sent down there
soon, and under the best conditions possible to wait there with you
until the combined efforts of all our relations shall have been
successful. The life of the prison cell is wearing me out, and I ask but
one thing, to be sent down there as soon as possible. I was heart-broken
this morning because I did not get any letters. Happily, at 2 o’clock,
the director of the prison brought me a package of good letters, which
gave me much pleasure. They have been the one ray of joy in my wretched
cell. Will you please send me my travelling rug, for it is very cold in
our cells.
Try to obtain permission to see me as soon as possible.