Friday, May 6:
R. slept well, but he has caught a cold. Friend Stein is here, always welcome. We drive to the theater, R. stages the fight in Walküre with incredible agility. (Twice during a rehearsal he frightened me by climbing from one first-floor proscenium box to the other.)
He is tired, goes straight to bed when we arrive home, and at our meal around 4 o'clock he is again in good spirits, declares it is due to Stein. But he wonders whether or not to attend the performance, decides he will. Reception, flourish; for us the first act something of a failure, he goes on stage, talks with the singers. Between the first and second acts many visitors, who tire him. The acting better in the second act, the fight very successful.
At the conclusion R. is all but exhausted and very irritable; he acknowledges the applause from the box; he had already said of the audience after the first act: 'Today is Simon and Judah, the lake is wild and wants its sacrifice.' We go straight to bed. On the way to the theater we were pleased with a friendly and handsome blond policeman; R. did not wish to join the end of the row of carriages: 'Herr Wagner, we won't hold you back.' And on stage he is addressed by a liquor manufacturer who, from his factory close to the theater, has provided the steam; he says, 'It is the greatest moment of my life to shake your hand.' (R. was satisfied with my appearance, found my hair properly arranged.)