Wednesday, February 2:
Candlemas; wonderful weather, brightest sunshine, approach of spring; the children out of doors a lot; R., too, in the morning. He is very despondent. “If it were not for you, I should simply be thinking of ways to take leave of the world, so as no longer to have to look at it.”
In the afternoon drove to Countess B.’s with Lusch; they have hopes of seeing an improvement in their situation at last. Sincerely glad to hear it.
In the evening, when I speak to R. about a dance for the children, he becomes annoyed; the evening passes gloomily. In the morning he comes to me and asks me to forgive (!!) him, he is so heavy-hearted, so sad, and when, to cap all that, he vents his sadness on me, he is inconsolable. He embraces me and says with a smile, “Il revient toujours à son seul amour.”
He told me during the day that he had written to the secretary of the Academy (Gruppe). When I ask him why, he says, “A drowning man clutches at every straw; perhaps God will send me an understanding voice.”