going! If there is a divine justice, we must hope that I shall be recompensed for this long and fearful torture, for this suffering of every minute and every instant. The other day your father told me that he would have preferred death. And I—I would rather, a hundred thousand times rather, be dead. But this right to die belongs to none of us; the more I suffer the more must it impel your courage and your resolution to find the truth. Look on for the truth, do not waver, do not rest. Let your efforts be in proportion to the sufferings which I have imposed upon myself.
Will you please ask, or have some one ask, at the Ministry for the following authorizations; the Minister alone can accord them:
1. The right to write to all the members of my family—father, mother, brothers, and sisters.
2. The right to write and to work in my cell. At present I have neither paper, nor pen, nor ink. I am given only the sheet of paper on which I write to you; then they take away my pen and ink. 3. Permission to smoke. I beg you not to come before you are completely cured. The climate here is very rigorous, and you need all your health, first for our dear children, then for the end for which you are working. As to my régime here, I am forbidden to speak to you of it.
And now I must remind you that before you come here you must provide yourself with all the authorizations necessary to see me; do not forget to ask permission to kiss me, etc., etc.
When shall we be reunited, my darling? I live in the hope of that, and in the still greater hope of my