12 May, 1895.
I continue this letter, for I wish to share with you all my thoughts as fast as they come into my mind. In my solitude I have the time to reflect deeply.
Indeed, the mothers who watch at the bedside of their sick children, for whom with ferocious energy they wrestle with death, have not so much need of a brave heart as have you; for it is more than the life of your children which you have to defend, it is their honor. But I know that you are fitted for this noble task.
So, my dear Lucie, I ask you to forgive me if at times I have added to your grief by my complainings, by showing a feverish impatience to see at last the light shining in upon this mystery, against which my reason battles in vain. But you know my nervous temperament, my hasty, passionate disposition. It seemed to me that all must be immediately discovered, that it was impossible that the truth should not be at once fully revealed. Each morning I arose with that hope and each night I went to my bed again a victim of the same deception. I thought only of my own tortures, and I forgot that you must suffer as much as I.
And this awful crime of some unknown wretch strikes not only at me, but it strikes also, and more than all, our two dear children. This is why we must conquer all our sufferings. It is not enough to give our children life; we must dower them with honor, without which life is not possible. I know your sentiments; I know that you think as I do. Courage, then, dear wife. I will struggle as you are struggling and sustain you with all my energy, because in the face of such an absolute necessity all else should be forgotten. We must, for the sake of our dear little Pierre, for the sake of our dear little Jeanne.
I know how marvellous you have been in your devotion, your grandeur of soul, in the tragic events just past.
Fight on, then, my dear Lucie. My confidence in you is absolute. My deep affection will recompense you some day for all the pains you are enduring so nobly.
18 May, 1895.
I am ending to-day this letter which will carry you a part of myself and the expression of the thoughts over which I have pondered deeply in the sepulchral silence that surrounds me.