in your presence I look at you, I no longer can remember anything. All that happens to me then appears a dream; it seems to me that never again shall we be separated—that I am awaking from my horrible nightmare. But alas! then comes reality—our parting.
Ah, the wretch who committed the crime—who stole our honor! It is no ordinary punishment that he deserves. When the day comes and his guilt is known I hope that public opinion may nail his name to the pillory of history, that his punishment may be beyond all that we can imagine.
I ask you to forgive me for my weakness, for my impatience. But think, my darling, what these long hours are to me—these long days.
But I am calmer after each interview. I draw new strength, a new store of patience from your looks, from your love.
Ah, the truth! We must reveal it, it must shine forth clear and luminous. I live only for that; I live only by that hope.
And this truth, as you have so truly said, must be entire, absolute—there must be left no doubt in the mind of any one. My innocence must burst forth. Everybody—all must recognize it—they must know that my honor stands as high as that of any man on the earth.
And it is to this end that I must be patient. . . . I realize it as you do, . . . but the heart has reasons that reason knows not! If I could only put my brain to sleep until the day when they find the guilty one I should bear physical torments valiantly, I should not waver. And then think of the atmosphere that is to envelop me on the path I have yet to follow!
