Be that as it may, am I guilty of having voluntarily abandoned my country or of ceasing to love it?
The whole of my being protests against this vile accusation.
Of what then am I guilty? Of having left my husband and my children?
I lived for twenty years at the most corrupt Court of Europe. I never yielded to its temptations or its follies. I gave birth to a son and a daughter, I suckled them at my breast, and I reposed all my hopes of a mother in my children. My son's fate and how he left me is common knowledge. It is also well known how my daughter, influenced by her husband and her environment, has treated me.
Of what was I actually guilty? It is true that finding myself at the end of my courage, and suffocating in the atmosphere of a home which for me was detestable, I was about to succumb....
I was rescued at this crisis, and I dedicated my life to my deliverer. And, in consequence, my saviour was branded as a forger, and by dint of monetary persecutions and fines it was sought to annihilate him.
Both of us have escaped from the murderers who desired our destruction.
Am I guilty of having struggled, of having remained faithful to fidelity, and of having resisted the efforts to overthrow me?
The judgments of error and hatred matter little to me. I have remained the woman that I promised my sainted mother I would become—the idealist, who has lived on the heights.
Am I guilty in the real meaning of morality and freedom? Many women who consider themselves in a position to cast the first stone at me have far more with which to reproach themselves!