when I can breathe freer, when I can relax myself a little; it is full time, of that I assure you.
I send more fond kisses for you and for the children.
Alfred.
4 November, 1895.
My dear Lucie:
The mail coming from Cayenne has arrived, and it has not brought me any letters. I have now been without tidings of you, of the children, since the 25th of August, but I will not let the English mail leave without writing you a few words. I shall not be long, for grief makes my pen tremble in my fingers.
I think, my dear Lucie, that you are now in possession of my last letters, and that you yourself are acting with the heroic spirit of a woman; that you are demanding the truth on every side; that you are demanding justice for miserable victims; that each day is a day thus employed until that on which the light breaks, until our honor is returned to us.
I think, therefore, that I shall soon learn that this appalling agony is at last at an end. I need not remind you to ask permission to send me a dispatch when you shall have good news to tell.
The days are long, the hours are heavy, when one has suffered so, and for so long a time.
I embrace you with all my strength, and the children, too.
Your devoted
Alfred.
Kisses to all.
