Tuesday, August 10:
R. had a tolerable night; at 10 o’clock we set out for San Marcello; uphill journey of hours, at first very hot, but then noticeably cooler. Curious accommodations in the village, where fleeing Ghibellines once settled. The road was reminiscent of French Switzerland, the village is something like Berneck or even Faido.
Gay mood to begin with, thoughts of Magdala, of flight, jokes about the Ghibellines; but R. becoming increasingly irritable, though a drive out toward Lucca gives him pleasure. In the evening, however, his skin is even redder, and he has fits of shivering, extreme anxiety; helpless and powerless as I am, I beseech the heavens, ecstatically accept a night of violent toothache, and pray, pray, that he be allowed rest, which...