Friday, September 27:
My name day; R. kindly begs my pardon for having forgotten it. He says it is too Catholic for him. I think of our departure from the Fantaisie: R. thanked me for having been so “good and friendly” during our five months there, but I have to thank him for having chosen a place in which the children were so happy and healthy, and where they did not miss Tribschen at all. Here, too, he looks after them, thinks constantly of them, more even than I do.
Letter from my father, announcing his arrival at the end of next week. We now have a temporary cook, so are able today to eat very comfortably at home again with the children.
In the afternoon a friendly but rather clumsily written letter from Frau v. Helldorf, an earlier acquaintance who is seeking contact again. In the evening our good J. Rubinstein to bid us farewell; R. reproaches me for having dismissed him too coldly, which I very much regret.
R. today arranged his library with Lusch and “denounced” all “scribblers,” Latinists, etc. Yesterday we read Hanswursts Hochzeit and the Paralipomena to Faust, in which the line “He who must listen in the end grows tired” makes us laugh till the tears come.
[A few words based on word play omitted.]