Friday, September 12:
R. got up only once and is not dissatisfied with his night’s rest. He works.
At lunch the French people, whose detailed knowledge of all R.’s published works is truly amazing.
In the evening Herr v. Weber, the antivivisectionist and African traveler, a very serious man. Herr and Frau Lascoux arrive too; R. writes in French to friend W., bidding him come to us. To this curious gathering Rub. plays the Prelude to Parsifal and the second scene from Die Walküre. “Good people, do go away!” R. says to our German friends after the French people have left; and finally a bat flits around above us, and a mirror broke in the children’s room.
These portents, if such they are, do not alarm me; they just seem to me a reflection of my worrying thoughts, and it is curious how, when people come between R. and me, their liveliness only serves to augment my fears regarding him instead of distracting me. I feel that there is nothing more I can do for him; it is as if he is surrounded by danger, and I, completely paralyzed, can offer him no aid.