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_Sunday, 10 February, 1895._
My dear Lucie:
I received, Friday evening, your letters up to and including that of the
2d of February. I saw with pleasure that you are all well. I hope that
you have received my letters. I shall not speak to you of myself; you
must understand the slow agony of my heart. But it will serve no purpose
to complain. What you need, what you must all have, is steadfast
courage. You must not allow yourself to be beaten down by adversity,
however terrible it may be.
You must succeed in proving throughout the length and breadth of France
that I was a worthy and a loyal soldier, who loved his country above
everything, who served it with devotion always.
That is the principal, the essential object, far above my own being, my
personal fate. There is a name that must be washed free from the stain
with which it has been sullied, a name, until now pure and spotless,
that must shine again as pure as in former days. It is the name that our
dear children bear, and that in itself should give you all the necessary
courage.
I thank you for all the news you give me of our friends. I, too, regret
that I cannot write to them. You know how dearly I love them all. Kiss
my relations tenderly for me, your dear family and mine. Tell them what
I think, what I would convince you of; it is that I personally am only
the secondary consideration, that there is a name to be cleansed from
dishonor.
No one must falter until this supreme task has been accomplished. To
speak to you of the condition I am in is useless. As I said above, your
heart tells you far better than my pen could tell. I will go on as long
as my heart still beats, having before me night and day the supreme hope
that the place that I deserve will be restored to me.
You see, darling, a man of honor cannot live without his honor. It does
no good to tell himself that he is innocent; it is an unceasing gnawing
of the heart. In solitude the hours are long, and my mind cannot
comprehend all that has come upon me. Never could a romancer, however
rich his imagination, have written a story more tragic.
I am convinced, as you are, that sooner or later the truth will come to
light. The just cause always triumphs; but when that day comes what
shall my condition be? It is that that I cannot tell.... There is always
my aching heart, which from morning till night, and from night till
morning, beats as if to burst.
I hope that they will let me kiss you at least before I set out upon my
journey.
I thank you for all you tell me about the children. You must bring them
up seriously and give them a thorough education; be as careful of their
bodies as you are of their minds and hearts. I know what you are; I have
no uneasiness on this score. Indeed, I know that you will bring them up
to be generous and noble souls, eager for all that is good and
beautiful, marching forward always in the way of duty.
Kiss the good darlings for me a thousand, thousand times.
I pray you give every one my love. Receive the most ardent kisses of
your husband, who loves you, who lives only in the thought of you.