Wednesday, December 8:
Opening of the Vatican Council, Immaculate Conception. At Tribschen nothing but confusion, all the men gone to church, hence no servants and R. annoyed. His morning's work spoiled; I take Lusch to Countess B.'s, where she has been invited.
At midday arrival of a medallion of R. prepared in Berlin, very inadequate and unpleasing. The Parnasso italiano also arrived; Cornelius sends it to me. In the evening finished my chair. Read Tristram Shandy.
On parting, R. looked long at me, and tears began to flow down my cheeks. "Do not weep," he said, "for Siegfried's words to Brünnhilde have just come into my mind"; and he fetched his pencil and wrote the theme down. Talked about Parsifal, the first kiss of love, premonition of death.