Wednesday, September 24:
Again R. did not have a restful night. But at lunch he tells me that after our breakfast together he fell into a very deep sleep and then, feeling completely refreshed, settled down to his work, the form of which interests him (letter to Herr v. W.). He is looking well! Keeps telling me that he intends to live for a long time, and today says that at the age of 82 he intends to ride along the via triumphalis in Metz!
I say goodbye to Herr Schon and believe I have discovered in him a friend for Siegfried. In the afternoon R. calls to me, asking me to walk with him in the garden; splendid sunset, pleasure in Wahnfried!
We go indoors as it grows dark; over beer on the “Muchanoff” we immerse ourselves in talk; first of all the capture of Cetewayo, then I show R. the little photograph of the oldest theater in Dresden. He recognizes it: “I played there, I saw Weber there—oh, it was all magic to me! I remember how in Preciosa the triangle began under the balustrade of the royal box. Oh, what fascination! I could not see the people, since the box projected outward. My father acted there.”
Then as always back to vivisection; R. tells me various things from his letter. Whist in the evening. When I part from him after our conversation and call him “angel,” he says, “That’s nothing—such an ancient penwiper, tottering around, but when I say ‘dear wife,’ that means something, that is much more.”