Friday, May 21:
Föhn wind, very sultry, with the children in the garden. Lusch writes to her father. R. works. The afternoon passes in the turmoil of preparations. Richter and the Paris quartet have arrived. I to the Hotel du Lac to discuss everything. Trouble keeping R. at home.
The children having their hair done; suddenly R. comes in, sees “holly” everywhere, rushes out. I tell him the King is here and will be coming to Tribschen tomorrow. R. does not know whether it is serious or a joke.
Yet the conversation with Richter has made me sad. Returning by boat in stormy weather, I admit to myself that, were death to come to me now, I should not grieve. That I had to leave Hans appears cruel to me, but then I have to ask myself on whose account this cruelty arose.
Also I feel plainly how within me some divinity rules, which determined my course. I did not wish or choose. But I do not hold it against anybody who cannot see this as I see it, who does not have the faith that I have, and who condemns me. Willingly and lightly will I bear the world’s loathing; Hans’s suffering, however, robs me of all joy. Good night, my good children!