Sunday, October 31:
In bed, much pain; read Gibbon. R. writing down his views on conducting. Family lunch; on leaving, R. looks Eva long in the eye: “What is individuality? Nothing; one sees that when one looks at such a child’s face, and a whole species answers.”
Visit from Countess Bassenheim. Fidi in better health, which makes me very glad. I forbid R. to read the life of Cervantes, because I do not wish him to read about the portrait of Cervantes, an engraving of which I am trying to get.
Wonderful out of doors: trees still green, the plane on the terrace, with snow, sunshine, and the radiant, rosy tints of the mountains. In the evening R. unwell, and Fidi again afflicted with his rash.