- late in me all my intellectual part, all that is sensible of
suffering, so that I may live, like a beast, preoccupied with the satisfying of its material needs.
When shall this martyrdom come to an end? When will men recognize the truth?
How are our poor darlings? When I think of them it is a torrent of tears. And you, I hope that you are well. You must take care of your health, my darling. The children first of all, and then the mission which you have to fulfill, impose upon you duties which you cannot neglect.
Forgive the disconnected and wandering style of my writing. I no longer know how to write; the words will not come to me, my brain is shattered. There is but one fixed idea in my mind—the hope of some day knowing the truth, of seeing my innocence recognized and proclaimed. That is what I mutter night and day, in my dreams as in my waking hours.
When shall I be able to embrace you and recover in your deep love the strength I need to carry me to the end of my calvary?
Embrace every one for me.
Kisses for the darlings.
I embrace you as I love you.
Sunday, 3 February, 1895.
I have passed an atrocious week. I have been without a word from you since last Sunday—that is to say, for eight days. I thought that you must be sick, then