Just now I gazed for several minutes at the pictures of our dear children; but I could not bear to look at them longer; my sobs strangled me. Yes, my darling, I must live. I must bear my martyrdom to the end, for the name borne by these dear little ones. Some day they must learn that this name is worthy to be honored, to be respected; they must be sure that if I hold the honor of many men below my own, there is none that I hold above it.
Ah, surely it is full time that this horrible suffering to which we are all subjected should end! I dare not think of it. Everything within me swells my heart to bursting.
I embrace you a thousand, thousand times, and our good darlings.
Alfred.
Friday, 4 o’clock.
They have given me your letter of Friday, in which you tell me that you have received my last letter. You are asked to abstain from making any reflections upon the measures taken in regard to us. Henceforth I shall no longer have the right to write to you more than twice a week. You can write to me every day. Do it, my darling, for that is the only thing that gives me courage to live. If I could not feel your warm affection, the love of all of ours, struggling with me for my honor, I should not have the courage to pursue this almost superhuman task. They still give me no letters from any of the family, and I am not permitted to write to them. The Minister is the only one who can modify this state of things.
You cannot imagine, my poor child, how unhappy I am. Night and day I think of the horrible word that is coupled with my name; there are times when my brain refuses to admit such a thing. I ask myself, in my agitated nights, if I am awake or if I sleep. Added to everything else I have no occupation by which to distract my sombre thoughts.
I kiss you a thousand times, and also all the others.
Alfred.