Tuesday, November 23:
A good night. At breakfast R. again expresses his delight in Gobineau, says he has no desire to read any more modern German books. Skies still gray.
R. settles down to his score but is dissatisfied. He goes out for a while, then returns to his work. He is not happy with the brass music on stage; he seeks and, he believes, finds what he wants.
In the evening he reads to the children the 1st act of Der Bauer als Millionär, which makes us feel very much at home. R. observes that he belonged much more to the Renaissance than to modern times; Machiavelli would have admired him. He also talks about the debate in the Reichstag on the Jewish petition and finds it despicable on both sides, particularly a remark by Windthorst.
In the evening, when we go up to bed, he has forgotten his watch, goes down to fetch it, alters something in his score, picks up the case, forgets the watch, goes downstairs again, but all very gaily. He cries out to me that I must always remain pretty, gay, jolly.