Monday, December 22:
When we greet each other today in our usual way, R. says, "We lost 15 years, there's no denying it, and we can't bring them back." I: "You didn't want me at that time." He: "You wretch, you were so intent on getting a husband that you couldn't wait."
Around noon, with our blue protection, we go for another walk in the palace gardens; R. is still vexed by the winter. At lunch his expression is completely changed, the children completely silent, and he hands me Gedon's letter. Enclosed is a letter from Gedon, giving his reasons for letting Wagner down, and an accompanying note from Eevi begging forgiveness for the mishap caused by Gedon's delay. R. tells me he has been pursuing this matter since last June, and all his hopes were pinned on it; last year I had been celebrated in music, this year it was to have been the visual arts. My victory today is that, though this mishap is constantly mentioned, we manage in the end to treat it gaily - though with scornful laughter for visual art and its "lying" ways! "These people are all enthusiasm but no backbone, and it all gets squandered in beer and silly sensuality! And that's why the South will never amount to anything. The Prussians are made of sterner stuff."
In the evening I dress myself as nicely as I can (Scheherazade) to celebrate my surprise, which I still have in spite of all the vexation, and our mood is bright and gay; R. reads aloud the unique - and Shakespearean - conversation between Sancho and his wife. He ends the evening by saying that we should have come together 15 years earlier - those were all pure loss!...