Tuesday, March 19:
A Count Deym sends an opera libretto, Melusine. R. is still run down. Yesterday, when I showed R. the photograph of Moltke, he exclaimed, “He is like Fidi,” and it is true, there is something in his look.
Very nice letter from Clemens, who is worried that his previous one may have hurt me; friend Bucher sends Lulu some lovely stamps and a very nice letter. Spring has vanished, storms, snow flurries, all sorts of things. If only R. were well, everything would be all right; but he is quite unable to work. In the evening read Menzel’s Toms Unrecht.