Monday, January 26:
A good night; at breakfast R. tells me of Helios's oxen, the roasted flesh of which still spoke to their companions, and he is more and more convinced that men began to be evil when they began to eat meat. A gray day; R. rides into town, returns in an open carriage. At lunch he has no appetite, and at about [blank] o'clock he takes to his bed with a shivering fit. For me, many letters putting off visits.