* * * * *
_Tuesday, 15 January, 1895, 9 o’clock in the morning._
My Darling:
I was thinking a great deal last night of what you said yesterday when
you urged me to be patient; when you explained to me that nothing is
done in a day. Alas! I know it well; but I suffer precisely because of
my good qualities, which are defects situated as we are now. I am an
active man, and I am impatient to have it deciphered--this enigma that
is torturing my brain.
But you understand, my darling, since you know me so well. It is useless
for me to tell each day of the fevers of impatience which at times
overcome me; the paroxysms of crazy anger which at times carry me
away....
Yesterday I received good news. They told me that I am to see your
mother to-day. I am rejoicing over it in advance.
_Half-past 5 o’clock._
I have seen Me. Demange for a few minutes; afterward I had the pleasure
of seeing your mother.
I was so enervated to-day that I almost fainted before her. I could not
help it. Sometimes I become again a man, with all man’s weakness, with
all man’s passions. You must admit that there is in my situation enough
to break down the strongest.
Ah, believe that were it not for you--for our dear children--it would be
far easier for me to die! But I must bear up and face my sorrow. I must
tell myself that I will bear all the agony, all the martyrdom, until the
time when my innocence shall burst forth in the light of day.
It is impossible that it can be otherwise.
I shall hold out to the end, be sure of it; but at times I will give way
to cries of wrath--to cries of anguish.
Embrace them all, our darlings, for me.