nearly every day I expect good news. I hope at last to hear something certain, positive, that the light has broken, or, at least, is soon to break, upon this bitterly sad story.
Let me tell you to-day simply that the thought of you, of our dear children, alone gives me the force to live through these long days, these interminable nights.
I embrace you with all my strength, as I love you, and our dear, adored children.
Your devoted
Alfred.
Kisses to your dear parents, to all our family.
Again for long months I have received neither books nor reviews. Those that you told me of in your letter of August have not yet arrived. I cannot understand it.
I thought that you would have continued to send me regularly each month the reviews and a few packages of books, by mail. I am all day long, and I may add, nearly all night long, without a minute of forgetfulness, looking at the four walls of my cabin—well, it is of little importance, but it would be well to inquire what has become of these books.
31 December, 1895.
My dear Lucie:
I wrote to you some days ago to tell you that I had not yet received your letters of October. At last, after a long and terrible time of waiting, I have just received your letters of October, and at the same time those of November.
How must I sometimes cause you pain by my letters,
