that reason refuses to comprehend such infamy joined to such cowardice. To me it seems impossible that such machinations shall not soon or late be discovered, that such a crime can rest unpunished.
Last night there was a moment when the reality of my position seemed to me a dream, horrible, strange, supernatural, from which I tried to arouse myself, to awake. But, alas! it was not a dream. I tried to escape from this awful nightmare, to find myself again in my own real life, such as it ought to be, among you all, in your arms, my darling, with my dear children by our side.
Ah, when shall this blessed day arrive? To that end spare neither time nor effort nor money. Even if I am ruined as far as my fortune goes, I do not care for that; but I want my honor; it is for that that I bear these cruel tortures. Alas! I bear them as best I can. There are times when I have moments of crushing despondency; when it seems to me that death would be a thousand times preferable to the torture of soul that I endure; but by a violent effort of the will I regain possession of myself. What would you? I must at times give my grief free course; I can bear it with more firmness afterward.
After all, let us hope that this horrible agony may end—that is my only reason for living, that is my only hope.
The days and the nights are long. My brain is always searching for the answer to this appalling riddle that it cannot solve.
Oh, if only I might, with the sharp blade of my sword, tear aside the impenetrable veil that surrounds my tragic fate! It is impossible that in the end this shall not be done.
