Wednesday, January 28:
The question which was this morning whether the whole undertaking has been indefinitely postponed, or whether, relying on the King's letter of yesterday, he should count on the guarantee. While I am paying some calls he makes up his mind, but I do not dare ask him in what direction; I am just glad to distract him a little, if it lies in my power.
Over coffee we come once more to the subject of the icebergs which have melted in the sea of inferiority, among them K. Ritter. R. maintains that it was the Judaism article which destroyed him, as it did poor Tausig, for he had Jewish blood in his veins. R. takes a long walk, goes out to the theater, and there meets a peasant woman, with whom he has a cheerful conversation. He talks to her about the long, poor path she has before her on the way back to her village. “My dear sir, if you've had to walk it every day for 30 years, you stop thinking about whether it's good or bad.”
In the evening, after we had read some more of the Basel book, R. wanted to read me Aristophanes, but it was impossible, there is too much licentiousness, in which women can take no part. While R. was out walking, I sat for a long time in the moonlight in the conservatory, quite unable to take my leave of the gentle rays and the great stillness.