Tuesday, February 16:
After I had said good night to R. yesterday I fell into long meditation, from which I emerged as in a dream, then went downstairs once more to wish him pleasant rest. But when I reached his room I felt very shocked by my lack of discretion; it was as if I had been walking in my sleep and had suddenly woken up. I then said my good night in great embarrassment.
Vreneli, returning yesterday from Zurich, told us about Kos: he is very ill, God knows if he will get better. During the night I dreamed that he was very friendly toward the man in the institution and that the man rewarded him with kicks. I woke up with a start, sadly, to see a star twinkling down right through my window, and this gave me pleasure.
R. has finished his article; he read it to me yesterday evening. The day belongs to Winckelmann and the children. Loldi very talkative, thinking of Boni and the pond in Munich, having fun with me in the bathhouse and giving me much pleasure.
R. settles the matter of Rienzi in Paris by declaring that the only interest he has in the performance is in keeping it from taking place, which he can and must do.
At table he expresses his pleasure in the furniture, the books, the pictures, the butterflies, and says we are after all more dependent on the spirit than on Nature. The beauties of art are superior to the beauties of Nature, since they express what Nature desires; they are more limited, certainly, but for that reason their will is expressed all the more energetically.
I think with melancholy of our poor little Kos!
In the evening R. tells me with great joy that he has discovered a complete edition of Die Horen, Vasari, and the atlas to Winckelmann’s works. We think a lot about the hours two years ago.
Wednesday, February 17:
Dreamed of Blandine. On waking I hear the strains of the “Prize Song,” the melody which brought Eva into the world and with which R. greeted my birthday in 1866. Then R. brings our beautiful child to my bedside; she shines and sparkles, our little Eva!
Spring is blooming outside. I hear and see everything as in a dream and like a departed spirit. I feel as if for me every kind of personal life has ceased and I am present now only in him and the children.
R. receives from his publishers the proofs of the Jewish article, which gladdens him, for he feared Weber had been intimidated. Presents for the children, meals with the children, much rejoicing.
When we drink to Eva’s health she is out of her mind with delight, in spite of having nothing to drink herself. Then I say she must go to bed. R. much dismayed, says this strictness is the Catholic side of my nature and that when my pleasure is greatest, I am always ready to renounce it. He is always asking himself how he would fare if I also took charge of him! This made us laugh.
In the afternoon a walk with the children; at dusk fireworks in the salon. But Evchen is made ill by them; she has a dizzy spell, and I am very much alarmed, but she recovers.
In the evening R. and I speak of former times, when we always passed each other like shadows, hardly spoke, and yet were so strangely close to each other. Then he read [Shakespeare’s] Coriolanus to me in his unique way.
R. gave me flowers.