Friday, July 9:
Sultry. R. unwell. At breakfast he is given a card from Serov (the Russian R. Wagner!) and invites him to join us at table. (Footnote in the diary: “Serov has in consequence of his Russian national opera been appointed an active councilor of state and bears the title Excellency, about which R. good-humoredly teased him a lot.”)
S[erov] has just seen Tristan and Die Meistersinger in Munich and is quite intoxicated by them and also very satisfied with the performances. Before I join them, R. tells him a little about what has happened to us and why he will not go to see Das Rheingold; when in the course of it my name is mentioned, Serov cries, “Quelle femme héroïque!” When R. tells me this, I am utterly astonished, so much have I got used to the thought of just being despised.
The children all well, Siegfried fine; R. was pleased today when Eva brought him his snuffbox as he was composing: “When a child appears like that one has such an indescribable sense of the grace and sweetness of life.” Thought a lot and with much concern about Hans; then discussed with R. how best to save up my little income for the children.
In the morning looked with R. through two newly ordered books (Art Treasures of Venice and The Viennese Collections). Beethoven has now been framed and is hanging on the wall. In the evening read Grimm’s fairy tales to the children. After dark wandered with R. in the garden under the silent blessing of the stars.
When I learn (through Grimm) that ach wach means the same as O weh, I realize how related woe [das Weh] and wide-awakeness [das Wache] are. My heart is filled with such anxiety, I am afraid to live and do not wish to die. When I take precautionary measures for the children, I immediately tell myself, “Fate will frustrate it all.” Today began Oedipus at Colonus.