Sunday, August 25:
Our wedding day! The children congratulate us nicely. Loldi gives us a watercolour which she painted under the guidance of Frl. Schinkel, Wolzogen’s aunt, and R. reflects at length on how things were, how they might have been.
“That time in Zurich (1858),” he says, “I should have taken you off to Venice with me, I was finished with my wife, your relationship with Hans was not yet formed, and you had no children; but I was as stupid as Tristan, and you were that silly goose Isolde. We would have remained in Italy, and everything would have made sense!”
In the afternoon we drive out to the Eremitage, which pleases my father too. Friend Wolzogen sent some nice roses with a nice note.