- self night and day without one moment of respite, that
I never open my mouth; that there is never a moment when my nerves are relaxed, so that when I write to you with my whole heart, everything that cries out in me for justice and truth runs, despite my will, under my pen.
But what I shall tell you always, as long as my heart shall beat, is that above all our sorrows, oh, however terrible they may be, before life itself, is honor, and that that honor, which belongs to us, must remain with us; it is the patrimony of our children. Then always and still again courage, Lucie, until we have seen the end of this horrible tragedy; but let us hope for all our sakes that it may come soon.
Kiss your dear parents, all of our family, for me. Tell them of my profound affection, and how often I think of them. As for you, my dear Lucie, I have no consolation to give you; there is none, either for you or for me, in such misfortune. But your conscience, the sense of the great duties which you have to fulfill, should give you invincible strength.
And then, when the day of justice dawns for us, we will find our consolation in our profound love.
A thousand kisses for you and for our dear children.
27 August, 1895.
I add a few words before mailing this letter to send you again the echo of my profound affection, to tell you how much I thought of you on your birthday—hardly more, it is true, than on other days, that is not possible—*