Monday, May 12:
Lost my voice, but journeys are necessary all the same in connection with the celebrations. R. orchestrates, but is constantly distracted by thoughts concerning his undertaking.
He is very fascinated with a book by Holtzmann about Celts and Germans, and he gives me a short resume of it at lunch. After lunch a comic game of hide-and-seek: I wish to go out without R.’s noticing, but he keeps looking for me and returns unexpectedly.
Unfortunately he is not well. He suddenly spits blood, does not look well, and complains of suddenly being unable to remember words. While with the doctor he suddenly could not find the word “death”; memories of what Herwegh had said to him about it, etc., kept intervening. He frequently forgets names, and that embarrasses him. He looks worn out, and his speech, though still full of feeling, is flat.
Extreme concern, profound worry. I hardly dare pray to God; I do not wish to admit to myself how worried I am. The doctor says it is nothing, but the worry, who can dispel that? Daniella is also very unwell!