Friday, May 23:
R. had a sad dream that I sent him away because he sold my jewelry in order to gamble, and I told him I could no longer live with such a wicked person!
If one wants to feel the full melancholy of life profoundly, one should celebrate festive occasions. I always have the feeling that it is not proper for me to do so, that I should not make my personal presence felt through a wish or a deed, but simply be on hand with friendly advice; when my enthusiasm carries me away, I feel guilty, it is a feeling difficult to describe, and an insuperable melancholy takes possession of me, a longing to be free of an existence in which even joy is suffering.
The Ritters to lunch. In the evening a party, all the people who took part, including “the three Moors”; they play nicely, and Kummer plays Träume and Der Engel. During these, R.’s whole life is revealed to my soul, like layers of fog dispersing.
R. also plays the Idyll and says to me jokingly when we are alone, “I suppose it would have pleased you better if things had not progressed beyond my first poem to you, if there had never been an idyll, you would certainly have found it more interesting!” What I want and what I should have wished for I do not know, but certainly that he should be happy, calm, and contented, and that I should no longer be conscious of my miserable ego in any shape or form.