Monday, May 3:
My Monday began with a stream of vulgar abuse, which a bad maidservant, leaving our employment, flung at me while I was still in bed. Letting her talk, I reflected on the disparate nature of the world, in which the saint and the wise man put up with such curious surprises. At last she left, and I had paid my debt to the evil demon of the day.
And indeed the day turned out to be a fine one. R. greeted me cheerfully; he said I was just a bundle of worry, and since in regard to him I had nothing more to worry about, knowing he was in good hands, I had no more thoughts for him. He also said he was too happy, he could no longer compose, he had everything he wanted, to which he added jokingly: when he now works, it is not for hunger, but lust!
He is working now, while I teach the children. Before lunch he played me what he had written; blissful hour of happiness, forgetting all miseries on earth and torments of life! I must always burst into tears and am at a loss for words when I hear his music.
Went out with the elder children, R. to town, then overtook me. Great weariness, but a mood of exaltation.