Tuesday, February 2:
Candlemas, no sun and yet sun; the farmers want an overcast sky, and now it is indeed overcast, but a ray of sunshine breaks through. This brings our table conversation to the words of the oracle and the Greeks, in particular the Dorians.
A letter from Hermine; the King has sent me three photographs. I am glad, for there seems to be no catastrophe in the offing. R. has received from Paris the very pleasant news that Pasdeloup has gone bankrupt, which means nothing will come of Rienzi.
Walk in the garden in the dark. Hearing dogs bark in the distance, scattered lights shining in the lake; Tribschen itself is in darkness.
After tea, dictation. It appears to me that the year 1858 was the true turning-point in R.’s destiny, and if Frau W[esendonck] had conducted herself well then, all the perplexities up to the appearance of the King could have been spared him. Then my participation in his life would also have been superfluous, even if we should always have loved each other deeply. This feeling makes me despondent. Above all, however, R.’s appearance, which is not good. Oh, if he could only be quite well again! The mild, unhealthy weather may also be to blame for his poor appearance.
Bismarck’s boastful behavior in the Chamber (“the reptiles and the miserable dynastic interests”) gave R. a lot of joy. He returns to his letter to the Countess. Why do I stop him? It is surely very timid of me. Why have I lost all my courage, except the courage to suffer? If only I could see R. happy again and free of all care! But the gods are unmerciful; even if I were willing to purchase this happiness at the price of my total annihilation, they would still not grant it to me. Everything must be suffered to the end, my poor good children!