Saturday, August 25:
Our wedding day. Lunch with friend Feustel and Dr. Harrer! In the afternoon I put away the sublimely magnificent work. In the morning R. tells me he is now fashioning the musical garb for his hero Parsifal.
Lucian in the evening; strangely enough, I am not offended by the very brazen things contained in it, though in a modern writer even a hint in this direction would be repugnant. R. feels it is on account of the openness with which everything is treated; it is secretiveness that makes things look improper. R. says that dialogue is without doubt the best, indeed the only form in which one can be objective.