Monday, June 9:
No news from my father or from any of my friends: a curious silence surrounds us. At six in the morning I went to the children, in order to be with them when they got up; great fear of being negligent in some way; Eva and Fidi very sweet together, gay and happy. R. works.
In spite of severe cold and an overcast sky, my mood today is more cheerful; I do not know why—perhaps because I am willing to accept what comes. Sascha still with us at lunch and for an hour in the evening. We start on Ardinghello, and I have to admire the decisive boldness of its judgments on painting.
[A few words on a philological subject omitted.]