Monday, April 2:
My father's name day; R. gives him his Fife with a dedication which deeply pleases and touches my father; in the afternoon R. reads his wonderful first act to us, and in the evening my father plays his sonata. A lovely, cherished day, on which I can thank Heaven for the comforting feeling that nothing - no deeply tragic parting of the ways, no malice on the part of others, no differences in character - could ever separate us three. Oh, if only it were possible to add a fourth to our numbers here! But that an inexorable Fate forbids, and for me every joy and every exaltation ends with an anxious cry to my inner being!