"However atrocious may be your suffering, march on still, so that you may be able to die at peace, knowing that you leave to your children an honored name, a respected name!"
My heart, you know it, it has not changed. It is the heart of a soldier, indifferent to all physical suffering, who holds honor before, above all else; who has lived, who has resisted this fearful, this incredible, uprooting of everything that makes the Frenchman, the man, of all that makes it possible to live; who has borne it all because he is a father and because he must see to it that honor is restored to the name that his children bear.
I have already written to you at length. I have tried to sum it all up to you, to explain to you why my confidence and my faith are absolute; that my confidence in the efforts of one and all is fully fixed; for believe it, be absolutely certain of it, the appeal that I again made in the name of our children, has revealed to those to whom I appealed a duty which men of heart will never attempt to evade. On the other hand, I know well all the sentiments that animate you all. I know them too well to ever think that there can be one moment of enervation in any one of you as long as the truth remains in darkness.
Then all hearts, all energies, will converge toward the supreme object, running toward it with blind, irresistible force. Cheer up until the beast is run to earth, the author or the authors of this infamous crime. But, alas! as I have already told you, if my confidence is absolute, the energies of the heart, of the brain, have limits when the situation is so appalling, when it has been borne so long. I know, also, what you suffer, and it is horrible.