Friday, September 17:
We drive, without R., who is ruling lines, with my father to view the cathedral, and here I become aware how different R. is, how youthfully energetic he has remained. My father is all but unmoved.
But our life together is happy and gay; R.'s wit helps overcome all difficulties. He calls himself Werther, Jouk., Brackenburg, and says my father is Albert and Egmont combined. But he is somewhat vexed that our conversation never seems to go beyond personalities.