Sunday, May 2:
R. is well again in the morning after a good night, but later he unfortunately feels somewhat indisposed. Our friends the Liechtensteins to lunch; Prince Rudolf talks vividly about the former aristocratic world. R. says, “Now the Jews are the grands seigneurs!” Via Bulwer-Lytton, we came to talk about the English and Germany’s shame in connection with the Berlin Congress.
Some visitors, including professors from the Conservatoire; R. comes back to his letter and says on the one hand they have the most rigid form of pedantry and on the other utter dissoluteness.
Then, beneath gray skies, R. and I stroll together through the villa; when we come upon a cactus of unusually rugged appearance, R. says, “That looks like an ox, which is really what it wanted to be.”
In the evening farewell visit from the Liechtensteins, sad in many ways. As they depart, I hear from the street, hoarse and high-pitched, a prolonged sorrowful cry.