* * * * *
_Friday, 4 o’clock._
They have given me your letter of Friday, in which you tell me that you
have received my last letter. You are asked to abstain from making any
reflections upon the measures taken in regard to us. Henceforth I shall
no longer have the right to write to you more than twice a week. You can
write to me every day. Do it, my darling, for that is the only thing
that gives me courage to live. If I could not feel your warm affection,
the love of all of ours, struggling with me for my honor, I should not
have the courage to pursue this almost superhuman task. They still give
me no letters from any of the family, and I am not permitted to write to
them. The Minister is the only one who can modify this state of things.
You cannot imagine, my poor child, how unhappy I am. Night and day I
think of the horrible word that is coupled with my name; there are times
when my brain refuses to admit such a thing. I ask myself, in my
agitated nights, if I am awake or if I sleep. Added to everything else I
have no occupation by which to distract my sombre thoughts.