Tuesday, May 17:
R. had a very bad night, got up, ran out into the garden, listened to the dawn, made “raven studies” (but it croaked horribly), and in the end felt very wretched. Yesterday evening a bat flew around him, which alarmed me considerably. Fidi still hoarse; I take the children to Countess Bassenheim’s, her little daughter’s birthday, Eva invited for the first time. In the evening read Wallenstein with R.