Friday, March 29:
Good Friday; warm, soft air. Six years ago we went on a walk to the Grütli, R. and I. “It was a solemn impression,” R. says, remembering it.
Lulu is unwell. I put her to bed and stay with her while R. goes out with Prof. N. Conversation in the evening. The manager of the Stuttgart theater writes nicely to R. and gives his consent for some musicians.