Thursday, June 2:
Yet in spite of the fine and harmonious day, R. did not have a good night. He wants to get back to his score. We rest together in the summerhouse during the afternoon.
Then we drive to the Feustels', who visited us yesterday. He shows us R.'s letter, and we are quite agreeable to its being printed. A glass of beer with the Count in the garden produces much talk about animals, particularly dogs; then R. shows his snuffboxes and I my green stone, and I relate how I lost it on New Year's Eve and then found it again.
A report in the Tagblatt about the King's relationships with actors distresses R. Then we talk about Shelley, whom R. does not see as a true poet, and in the evening the Count tells us a lot about Persia, compared with which Europe always makes a sorry appearance.