Sunday, October 10:
I hand over my salute to the 10th, and R. is pleased with the missal-like Flower Maidens. I go by myself to the Belle Arti, in spite of the rain, and afterward, beneath the arcades, with R. to a photographer's shop, where I show him a head of the Virgin Mary; it moves us both to tears. I say “Isolde.” He says no, this shows much of the rapture of suffering, which Isolde was spared.
Recently he said that ecstasies of this kind were based on sensuality, that is to say, sensuality was one grade, saintliness another, of a sort which gratified sensuality could never provide.
I visit SS. Giovanni e Paolo with the younger children; the older ones are causing me concern, which I am able to bear only with the help of R.'s deep sympathy.
In the evening he reads Der Geisterseher, but he finds it tiring and we give it up.