* * * * *
_7 o’clock._
My moment of weakness is past. I see and I live in the future. Courage,
then, all of us. Sooner or later innocence will triumph.
Go forward without flinching on the path you have marked out, as I shall
go forward without weakening on my dolorous journey.
_Wednesday, 16 January, 1895,
10 o’clock in the morning._
My Darling:
I have succeeded in conquering my nerves. I have silenced the tumult of
my soul. It does no good to be impatient, since I am resolved to live to
see my innocence proclaimed.
I know that it will require time--yes, a long time--but I shall wait, as
I promised you that I would, with calmness and with dignity until the
truth is known. My conscience will give me the necessary strength.
I will prepare my soul to bear without a murmur the suffering which yet
awaits me. I will stifle the sobs of my bleeding heart.
Yesterday I lost for some minutes the sense of my existence; remember
that it is now three months that I have been shut up in this room, a
prey to the most appalling mental tortures that can be inflicted upon a
man of heart; but by a violent effort of my whole being I regained
possession of myself.
It is, above all, my nerves that are weak; my spirit is what it was in
the beginning.
But you all are united in will, in intelligence, and in devotion;
therefore I have the conviction that soon or late the day will dawn. I
shall not belie your efforts.
Let us speak no more of it.
What shall I tell you? My daily life? You know it! I have described it
to you in its smallest details. My thoughts? They are all of you, of our
dear children, of our dear families. Still two more days to wait before
I can see you and embrace you. How long the interval is that separates
our interviews, and how short the time of our meetings! I would make the
time run by when you are far from me. I would make it an eternity when
you are with me.
What courage you give me to live, my darling; what patience I draw from
the deep well of your eyes, from the memories you recall to me, from my
duty to our darlings.
* * * * *
_1 o’clock._
I have just received your two dear letters of Tuesday. You are right to
speak to me of our dear ones. Though every thought of them rends my
heart, their chatter, which you repeat to me, awakes in me happy and
touching memories, and faith comes back to me--a faith in better days.
I agree absolutely with you as to the work in which you are engaged.
Calmness, time, and perseverance are needful if we would go on to the
end. I know it well; I should do just as you are doing were I in your
place, preferring to advance slowly but surely rather than lose all by
thoughtless haste. But I, alas! I am shut up between four walls, idle,
my blood on fire and my point of view is necessarily different from
yours.
They have just told me that my two sisters will come to see me at two
o’clock. What a happiness it is to see those who belong to one!
* * * * *
_5 o’clock._
I have seen Louise and Rachel. I have felt that their hearts beat with
mine, that they share my sufferings. Their faith in the future is
absolute. I hope as they do.
What devotion I meet in our wonderful families, in our friends! It
consoles me, moreover, for the weakness of humanity. Truly we can judge
of people only when we are in trouble.