Saturday, May 1:
R. not very well; he explains to me the reason for his vexation yesterday: he had wanted to be alone with me, to read me the play, and we had been prevented.
On top of that, an invitation for a second visit to the Conservatoire; R. instructs me to inform the old librarian of his feelings about the operetta, and to say that he would regret having written his letter if he were obliged to represent it in person. I do so. However, when I return, I find R. worried about a recurrence of his erysipelas. We spend the evening alone together, in silence and in quiet conversation, and I have the satisfaction of seeing the gradual return of a mild tranquillity.
How often these days does my soul cry out, “Io ti vedo” [“I see thee”]! The noble countenance of our crucified Lord rises suddenly before my eyes when my inner strength wavers. Dear God, do not abandon me!