Monday, June 1:
R. dreamed of the Olliviers, who received him with cold reserve; he addressed them in French and, gazing upon my sister's face, suddenly recognized me in it. “Only Cosima has this expression,” he said as he woke up.
Memories of former times! “I have loved nobody except you,” R. tells me. “I have become a completely different man.” R. had a good night. A very hot day; I pay some calls with Lulu.
In the evening the mayor and his wife and the musicians, including Josef Rubinstein, newly arrived from Kharkov; his piano playing has made great strides. R. goes through the forest scene in Siegfried.