Sunday, July 11:
R. yesterday brought home a newspaper (Dramaturgische Blätter?) in which there was an article about Judaism in Music. This morning R. tells me he has now read it and for the first time seen mention of a Jewish-Germanic culture in contrast to a Christian-Germanic one. “Such impudence! One sees one is dealing with people who have no idea at all what things are about.”
Serov told us recently that beside a waterfall in Finland he had discovered some verses cut into the rock, signed “Richard Wagner.” Yet R. has never been there. R. goes to work despite the close atmosphere. I with the two younger girls to pick strawberries and raspberries, the elder ones to church.
During the morning R. comes up to my room to see whether I am “still there.” “I always believe you will run away.” Then back to his work. The children play, then family meal, a telegram from Tichatschek, to whom R. had sent some musical quotations on his birthday.
Chocolate for the children; I played a Beethoven quartet with R., afterward went for a walk with him. My grieving about Hans, never expressed aloud, R. guesses, and it makes him sad. He recalls scenes at which he was present, when Hans struck me, and says he was horrified at the calm indifference with which I had borne this. Very painful feelings.
Back at home, so weary that I fell asleep on the sofa. To bed at midnight.