Friday, April 26:
Though R. slept well, he still feels somewhat tired; he works, however, and at lunch is very cheerful at having come so far with his maidens. After lunch he says to me, “Because it gives you pleasure to see me well, I feel well, for love of you.” R. is now reading Renan’s The Apostles: “They are so attractively put together, these books,” he says with a smile. In the evening Ivanhoe, with great enjoyment. But R. is slightly indisposed, something like a cold; his eyes hurt. If only my worry did not at once assume such great proportions! When I am with him everything is all right, but then I am overcome by an indescribable longing for death!