Saturday, July 23:
R. had a restless night. “You are a Devil’s brood,” he says to me, referring to the little drive the children and I take this morning. At one o’clock we find him well and cheerful again. He has been working. He continues to recount many things from J.’s book to us, and he says to me in the afternoon, as we are strolling together in the garden, that he will have something more to say about the elephant, a creature which has remained unchanged for all time, whereas the favored human being, with his culture, has been reduced to decrepitude.
In the evening reminiscences of various operas, Robert le Diable, Norma, Straniera. Then, however, Die Königin von Athen, the Muses’ chorus, which R. particularly loves. He has orchestrated three pages today, and we have a merry meal in the garden and spend most of the evening there.