Thursday, September 27:
"Greetings from Saint Cosmas!" I write in the nursery book. An old and enjoyable occupation, of which I have been deprived for many years.
R. lamented the fact that we did not find each other and unite 20 years ago. I observe that it is at any rate a good thing that we did so 13 years ago.
My patron saint brings me a splendid day: we go for a walk, R., Lusch, and I, and enjoy the sun and the sky. Letter writing for us both before supper.
In the evening, Euripides's Phoenissae, whose influence on Goethe and Schiller was immeasurable, as R. observes. Then R. plays me the Prelude once again. "I also have some accents for Mademoiselle Condrie, I already have her laughter, for instance."
Long lost in our memories, gladdened by our earlier times together, saddened by the intermingling of fellow-suffering. I beg my good patron saint to lay his healing hand on all wounds, for my greatest feelings of happiness always remind me of the sufferings of another. R. recalls how much we have already achieved together - and in what circumstances! Had our feelings been less genuine, those circumstances would certainly have brought us to ruin! "You and I will go on living in human memory," he exclaims. "You for sure," I exclaim with a laugh. Farewell, lovely, cherished day, let me remember thee in humility!