I would tell you that nothing should shake your will; that high above my life hovers the one supreme care—the honor of my name, of the name you bear, the name our children bear.
I would embrace you with the ardent fire that animates my soul, the fire that is to be extinguished only with my life.
I embrace you from the depths of my heart, with all my strength, and so also I embrace my dear, my adored children. Your devoted
Alfred.
A thousand kisses for the dear children now and always. All my wishes of happiness for Marie and her dear husband; and as many kisses for all my dear brothers and sisters, for Lucie and Henri.
4 September, 1897.
Dear Lucie:
I have just received your letters of July. You tell me again that you have the certainty that the full light of day is soon to shine; this certainty is in my soul; it is inspired by the right that every man has to demand it, to will that he shall have it when he demands but one thing—the truth.
As long as I shall have the strength to live in a situation as inhuman as it is undeserved, I shall continue to write to you, to inspire you by my indomitable will.
Indeed, the last letters I wrote to you are my moral will and testament. I spoke to you in them first of all of our love. I confessed to you also my physical and cerebral breaking down, but I spoke to you not less energetically of your duty, the duty of you all.
