Wednesday, January 16:
Library again. R. works meanwhile; he did not have a very good night, but he does not feel unwell. Without his knowledge I write to the King, begging him to give orders that royalties be paid on R.'s works to help wipe out the deficit. A Spaniard, Herr Marsillach, announces the publication of his book and asks for an autograph as a motto. R. writes it.
Today during his afternoon rest he had a sad dream: someone was singing on the water, I said I did not care for it, then we got nearer, and it was Fidi, who, still singing, sank beneath the water, saying, "Adieu, Papa, adieu. Mama"! In the evening The Spaniards.