Tuesday, November 12:
A great shock in the morning: 500 florins missing. Our only hope that R. left them in his wallet in Bayreuth. Cabled there at once.
Departure from Würzburg and the Ritters. We are tired, R. and I; did not have a good night. On the Spessart mountains the first snow: “This was just the place for Götz to fall on the Nürnberg merchants on their way to Frankfurt.”
In Frankfurt at 9 o’clock. The luxury of the hotel and our rooms, we are occupying the salon in which Bismarck and Favre signed the peace treaty, makes me feel sad. Even more a walk through the opulent city, and two acts of Le Prophète do the rest: I weep, but am obliged to conceal it. Oh, this life, this world!
Late in the evening wrote to Hans.