Diary Entry of May 30, 1872
After another miserable night, R. finally writes to the King and asks for patience as the only reward for his persistence. In the afternoon they walk into town, where the churchyard prompts R. to speak calmly about his own death and with aching tenderness about the fear of losing his companion too soon. The reflection is intimate and solemn rather than despairing, shaped by exhaustion and affection. By evening they are both too tired for anything but an early bed.
Thursday, May 30:
R. had a very wretched night! He writes his letter to the King, asking him for patience as a reward for his perseverance.
In the afternoon we walk to the town. Passing the churchyard, R. says: “I now think happily and calmly of my death. But I always have the feeling that you will soon leave me, that you have only been lent to me and will soon go back up there to a star.”
We are quite tired in the evening and go to bed early.