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
Alfred.
5 February, 1896.
My dear Lucie:
The mail has arrived, and it has brought me no letter. I need not tell you what bitter disappointment. I could tell you what deep grief I feel when this only consola-
