Friday, September 5:
R. had a better night; still more about Raphael and Mozart, and then some merry remarks about the house, the children, Princess Wittgenstein. As R. leaves me, he says, “I feel as if nothing ever happened to me before” - he means he never lived before. He is pleased with the way the children are developing; he calls Boni the beauty.
Yesterday he said to me, laughing, “If the Society of Patrons were now to raise the three million for me, I should run away - I must tell Wolzogen that.” Fine weather, but somewhat close; R. groans about how slowly he is orchestrating: “When I was doing it for your birthday, how quickly it went!”
In the late evening another walk in the garden; we are not venturing beyond Wahnfried and are content with that. In the evening a telegram from Hans to friend Rubinstein pleases us greatly. “Bravissimo! Bülow” - thus runs the brief and informative document. Much drumming and piping all around us; one has the feeling that a “ballet militaria” is being performed, or that one has been set down in the middle of a Shakespeare play!