Sunday, May 26:
R. works and is feeling well; I write all kinds of letters, after committing to paper the scenario of our little festival. R. remembers this performance with delight: “I could have eaten the children up in my gratitude and emotion,” he says. Wonderful letter to me from our friend Glasenapp, with touching enclosures.
In the afternoon a walk with R., many adventures with the three dogs, merriment. In the evening Kenilworth.
A curious feeling of apprehension has had me in its grip these last few days, oh, this mortal life! ...