pray of you, playthings for the children, for their New Year's day; tell them that their father sends them. It must not be that these poor souls, just entering upon life, should suffer through our pain.
Oh, my darling, had not I you how gladly would I die! Your love holds me back; it is your love only that makes me strong enough to bear the hatred of a nation.
And the people are right to hate me: they have been told that I am a traitor. Ah, traitor, the horrible word! It breaks my heart.
I . . . traitor! Is it possible that they could accuse me and condemn me for a crime so monstrous!
Cry aloud my innocence; cry it with all the strength of your lungs; cry it upon the house-tops, till the very walls fall.
And hunt out the guilty one. It is he whom we must find.
I embrace you as I love you.
Thursday, 10 o'clock in the evening, 27 December, 1894.
My dear Lucie:
Your heroism has conquered me. Strong in your love, strong in my conscience and in the immovable support I find in our two families, I feel my courage born again.
I shall struggle therefore to my last breath. I shall struggle to my last drop of blood.
It is not possible that light shall not be some day let in upon this crime. With the feeling that your heart is beat-