THE LETTERS
LETTERS
OF
AN INNOCENT MAN
PRISON OF CHERCHE-MIDI
Tuesday, 5 December, 1894.
My dear Lucie:
At last I can write a word to you; they have just told me that my trial is set for the 19th of this month. I am refused the right to see you.
I will not tell you all that I have suffered; there are not in the world words strong enough to express it. Do you remember when I used to tell you how happy we were? Everything in life smiled on us. Then all at once a fearful thunderbolt; my brain still is reeling with the shock. For me to be accused of the most monstrous crime that a soldier can commit! Even to-day I feel that I must be the victim of an awful nightmare.
But I hope in God and in justice. In the end the truth must come to light. My conscience is calm and tranquil. It reproaches me with nothing. I have done my duty, never have I turned from it. I have been crushed to the earth, buried in my dark prison; alone with my reeling brain. There have been moments when I have been nearly crazed, ferocious, beside myself, but even in those moments my conscience was on guard—“Hold up thy head!” it said to me. “Look the world in the face! Strong in thy conscience go straight onward! Rise! The trial is bitter, but it must be undergone!”
I cannot write any longer, for I want this letter to leave to-night.