Friday, April 23:
Wretched days in splendid weather. Reports concerning my mother continue to be uncertain and alarming. I am writing to Claire, and Lulu joins Loldi in sickness. On top of that, some hurt feelings, caused by people who do not matter, as well as by the only one who does matter.
Hans’s mother has taken all sorts of silly precautions with regard to the children, as if I were not looking after them properly, and as if she herself had ever taken good care of her own children, either morally or physically! When Hermine told me about it, I felt like approaching Hans and repudiating her insults, but on reflection I came to the conclusion that, even if I did not deserve the reproaches in this form, I should bear them willingly in return for pain I myself am perhaps causing, however ignoble it may seem.
That R. today dealt very harshly with me, when he more or less accused me of not loving Eva because I could not take her with me on a late walk, was indeed hard, and although many hours have since passed, I still have to weep bitterly as I write it down. But this, too, is surely deserved.
Since at the end of the day Loldi is somewhat better, I go out for a while with Boni and Lusch. Splendid view of the mountains.
From outside, a letter from Dr. Lang, not much in it. May everyone in the house now rest peacefully, the dear good children and my poor friend. I must calm down my heart, which is beating violently.
My mother herself believes that she is about to die, and she will see nobody.