Friday, September 3:
R. slept very well, and since the weather is splendid, he proposes a drive. He is looking well, and we anticipate our day gaily. In the morning he comes to my room to tell me that he finds my article good. He does so with such lavish words of praise that I should feel oppressed by them if his love for me did not shine through them all and bid me accept praise joyfully, even when it is extravagant and undeserved.
(Today Mass was said in our chapel; Fidi ran along to watch, a paletot over his shirt, but the sacristan caught sight of his bare legs through the balustrade, and he had to leave.) R. is very merry at lunch, and when I mention the roses Pepino brought me, R. declares that Joukowsky sent them in the vessel containing the flowers of the nun whose appearance at the window Ritter Toggenburg was always awaiting.
Glorious walk to the Osservanza monastery; return by a very lovely path which gives us an enchanting view of the town and its surroundings. The reward of this outing is Robbia's altar in the monastery, which also pleases R. In the evening conversation about this splendid art, so soulful and naive. Unfortunately in the monastery a veritable caterwauling from the monks, whose rough peasant voices are truly horrifying.
R. comes to talk about Renan's and Gfrörer's interpretations of the Resurrection, prefers that of the latter, whom he finds the most sensitive of writers in his handling of religious matters. He observes that one cannot overestimate the burning glow of ecstasy at times when a new religion is emerging. Letter from friend Feustel with a note from Hans, who is giving 12,000 marks to the fund, on the assumption that he will no longer be able to play the piano. [Letters from Feustel and Hans von Bülow enclosed; von Bülow, writing on August from Bad Liebenstein, states that he is suffering from neuralgia.]