Thursday, January 31:
R. had a somewhat disturbed night. He awakes with a headache, but it subsides; he works, and in the evening he shows me the ink sketch of the conclusion of the first act. Now thank we all our God is my prayer!
We spend the evening in reminiscences of Tribschen, my joining him there, the subsequent arrival of the two elder children, Fidi's birth, lost in blissful thoughts. Only when I am alone does my apprehension return; R.'s foot prevents his taking walks, and that in turn upsets his digestive processes. He tells me it is nothing, that on the whole he feels very well, but how, once beset by it, can one banish worry?