Good, long kisses to our two darlings. I dare not think of them. Talk to
them about me. Let not these young souls suffer from our sadness.
Embrace every one at home for me.
* * * * *
_12 January, 1895, Saturday, 4 o’clock._
How short was that half hour yesterday! I arrange in my mind in advance
just how I shall employ every minute, so that I may not forget what I
want to say. Then the time goes by as in a dream; and all at once the
interview is over, and again I have said almost nothing.
How can two beings like you and me be so cruelly tried?
Do you remember the charming plans that we had sketched out for this
very winter? We ought to profit a little by our liberty when we are
together to go back to those days when, two young lovers, we wandered
together in the land of the sun. Ah, it cannot be possible! All this
anguish, all that is passing now, is inhuman. If there is a God, if
there is any justice in this world, we must believe that the truth must
declare itself soon; that we shall be recompensed for all that we have
suffered.
I have put the children’s photographs before me on the little table of
my cell. When I look at them the tears rush to my eyes, my heart
bursts--but at the same time it does me good, it strengthens my courage.
Bring me your photograph, too. Your three faces before my eyes will be
the companions of my mournful solitude.
Ah, my darling wife, you have a noble mission to fulfil, and for it you
need all your energy. That is why I am always begging of you to care for
your health. Your physical strength is more necessary than ever before.
You owe yourself to your children first, then to the name they bear. It
must be proven to the whole world that that name is pure and stainless.
Oh, for light upon my tragic situation! How I long for it! How I wait
for it! How I would buy it if I could, not only with all my
fortune--that would be nothing--but with my very blood!
If only I could put my brain to sleep! If I could prevent it from
thinking always of this unexplainable mystery! I long to pierce the
shadows; I long to tear up the earth that the daylight may burst
through.
You will answer, and with justice, that I must be patient; that time is
necessary to discover the truth. Alas! I know it. But what would you?
The minutes to me seem hours. It always seems to me that some one will
come to me in another minute and say:
“Forgive us, we were deceived; the mistake has been discovered.”
Now I am waiting for Monday. Henceforth the weeks for me are composed
but of the two days when you come to visit me. You cannot know how I
marvel at your self-sacrifice, your heroism, how I draw courage from
your love, so profound, so devoted.
Thank your sister Alice for her excellent letter, which has given me
great pleasure. Give news of me to all the members of the family to whom
I cannot write. Tell them that their letters are always most welcome.