How are the children? Give me news of them. I cannot think of you and of
them without throbs of pain through my whole being. I would breathe into
your soul all the fire that is in my own, to march forward to the
assault that is to liberate the truth. I would convince you of the
absolute necessity of unmasking the one who is guilty by every means,
whatever it may be, and above all without delay.
Send me a few books.
* * * * *
_27 April, 1895._
My dear Lucie:
A few more lines so that you may know that I am still living, and to
send you the echo of my immense affection.
However great may be our grief, your grief and mine, I can only tell you
always to surmount it in order to pursue the rehabilitation with
indomitable perseverance.
Preserve at all times the calmness and the dignity which befit our
misfortune, so great and so undeserved; but keep on working to restore
to me my honor, the honor of the name which my dear children bear.
Let no setback rebuff you or discourage you; search out, if you think it
useful, the members of the government, move their hearts, as fathers and
as Frenchmen. Tell them that you ask for me no mercy, no pity, but only
that the investigations may be absolutely thorough.
In spite of a combination of sufferings, physical as well as mental,
which are at times terrible, I feel that my duty to you, to our dear
children, is to resist to the limit of my strength and to protest my
innocence with my last breath.
But if there is such a thing as justice in this world, it seems
impossible to me, my reason refuses to believe, that we shall not
recover the happiness which ought never to have been torn from us.
Truly, under the influence of extreme nervous excitement, or of a great
physical depression, at times I write you feverish, excited letters; but
who would not yield sometimes to such attacks of mental aberration, such
revolts of the heart and soul, in a situation as tragic, as narrowing as
ours? And if I urge you to hasten, it is because I long to be with you
on that day of triumph when my innocence shall be recognized; and then
when I am always alone, in solitude, given over to my sad thoughts,
without news for more than two months of you, of the children, of all
those who are dear to me, to whom should I confide the sufferings of my
heart if not to you, the confidant of all my thoughts?
I suffer not for myself only, but yet more deeply for you, for our dear
children. It is from them, my darling, that you must draw the moral
strength, the superhuman energy which you need to succeed in making our
honor appear again to every one, no matter at what price, what it has
always been, pure and spotless.
But I know you. I know the greatness of your soul. I have confidence in
you.
I am still without letters from you; as for me, this is the fifth letter
that I have written. Kiss every one for me. A thousand fond kisses for
you, for our dear children.
Tell me all about them.