Your devoted
ALFRED.
Kisses to all.
* * * * *
_26 January, 1896._
You ask me, my dear and good Lucie, to write you long letters. What can
I tell you that you do not feel in your own heart better than I could
tell it? My heart is always with you; it is torn when it feels you
suffer pangs so unmerited, and can do nothing to help you, except to
suffer equally itself. My spirit night and day is with you; it would
sustain and animate you with its ardent fervor. I can only repeat what
I have so often said, the end is everything; the honor of our name, the
honor of our children; and that must be attained against all obstacles,
in spite of everything. But the situation is so atrocious, as well for
you as for me, that our activities, which should be of every kind, as
they should be of every hour, far from weakening, ought, on the
contrary, to grow still stronger and tax their ingenuity to the utmost
in order to succeed in making the truth shine in all its brilliancy.
My health is good. I continue to struggle against everything so that I
may be there with you, with our children, on the day when my honor is
given back to me. I hope ardently, for your sake as for mine, that that
day may not be too long delayed.
I expect to receive news of you in a few days, and as always, I am
waiting for it with feverish impatience. I shall write to you more at
length when I shall have received your letters.
Kiss both the children many, many times for me. Their dear little
letters, like yours, like the letters from all our friends, are my daily
reading.
I need not tell you the thrill of happiness they give. And for yourself
the best, the tenderest kisses of your devoted