Friday, February 28:
Again R. did not have a good night. He got up twice, and I also woke him from a frightening dream. He jokes that for this my absence was to blame, and says laughingly, “Since the corn was beaten down, it rose no more: that was its death.” When I reproach him for his cruelty, he replies, “You ought to be pleased to have my life and death in your hands - Richardism has been completely merged into Cosmaism.”
In spite of his wretched night he works and plays to me a transition, from the meadow to Kundry's flower theme. Over coffee he recalls that it will be a week tomorrow since I went away, and he says this two-day absence was like an unending Russian steppe in his life. Returning home after going out, I ask the servant if his master is well and where he is; immediately a sound comes from his room, telling me he is there! He comes to bid me good evening, and when I ask him what he has in his hand he says, “My paper from Seville.” He goes down again to the salon, where I hear him continuing with his work.
In the evening reminiscences of friend Serov, whom Herr R. also knew. Herr Rub. tells us that six weeks before his death the Grand Duchess Helene got from him the admission that he was un homme d'esprit [“a wit”]. Then four of the 48 Preludes and Fugues, from No. 17 of the second book on; R. often sings to himself the theme of the 17th fugue, and he likes it to be played lightheartedly, like a rondo. The following one, in G-flat minor, is, I believe, even more beautiful, a truly wonderful wonder! R. says one only has to compare them with what others understood by fugues, for example, Handel in the Overture to The Messiah; since we do not have this work we look at Samson, and R. says the allegro theme denotes the Philistines.