Tuesday, August 24:
R. did not have a bad night, and the children say he is looking very well and is very cheerful. He talks of the peculiarities of the Villa d'Angri, of its "ghostly insidiousness," that is to say, everything in it seemed to have evolved as if by magic; there were no benches there, an eternal changelessness of light and air. I arrange things in Torre di Fiorentina, go back to the hotel at one o'clock for lunch, drive to the villa at 4 in order to welcome the children there permanently.
In the meantime R. and the children look over the cathedral and its libreria, and how can I help being touched when I am told that, every time he saw something which pleased him, R. exclaimed, "How glad my wife will be!" Between my two journeys I send off the telegram to the King [copy enclosed; see notes], carry off some fine fabric in triumph from an antique dealer as a gift for R. [Enclosed an envelope inscribed by Wagner "15 metres for little Richard" and containing a piece of the fabric and Cosima's sketch for a dedicatory poem.] And so in the space of four days we have once again set up a household in this completely unknown town!
Merry first supper (salami and risotto) in the tower! [Enclosed a page torn from an account book, inscribed by Cosima: "To see justice in every test of self-will, is this a consolation? I believe it is; it is like the transition from wounding to death, in acknowledging justice, self-will becomes no longer painfully, but mortally wounded, and its disappearance opens the way to a life of grace." His words on August 24 in Torre Fiorentina.]