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 restoration to honor. But oh, how my soul suffers! Tell all our family that they must work on without weakening, without resting; for all that comes to us now is appalling, tragic. Write to me soon. I embrace you as I love you.

Alfred.


Tuesday, 21 January, 1895, 9 o’clock in the morning.

How you must suffer!... The tragedy of which we are the victims is certainly the most terrible of the century. To have everything—happiness, the future, a charming home—and then, all at once, to be accused and condemned for a crime so monstrous!

Ah, the monster who has cast dishonor in our family might better have killed me; at least there would then have been only me to suffer! This is what tortures me the most; it is the thought of the infamy that is coupled with my name. If I had only physical sufferings to bear, it would be nothing. Sufferings borne for a noble cause are elevating; but to suffer because I am condemned for an infamous crime—ah, no! Cannot you see that it is too much, even for energy like mine?