Sunday, April 17:
R. did not have a very good night, but he recovers sufficiently to come to my portière after we have separated, and to say to me, “I shall set the Christian religious holidays to music - those will be my symphonies.”
Happy about this, I stroll with Dr. Schemann up to the theater and the Bürgerreuth on a splendid Easter morning. But on my return I find R. indisposed; he comes to lunch but soon gets up and goes off to bed. The doctor finds his pulse fast and prescribes something soothing for him. He reads in bed; I write to Lulu in the next room. In the evening, however, he gets up, only to return with me to bed at about 9 o’clock. (Telegram about the unveiling of the bust in Leipzig.)