Tuesday, September 20:
R. had a restful night, and he works. Over coffee, when our conversation turns to Eros and Anteros, scorned love, R. says that Anteros is Parsifal. He says the Greeks did not know love in our sense.
The news of the death of good President Garfield, after a long struggle, makes a solemn impression on us; the fact is mentioned that he was of humble origin.
At 5 o’clock R. has a conference; just before it he feels greatly indisposed, goes to sit in the garden. But the discussion goes smoothly, agreement is reached on advertisements, prices of seats, etc. We then drive to the Riedelsberg with our friends to fetch our children. R. expresses his wish to have a “strapontin,” as he calls a coupe, amused by the name of the little seat inside it.
In the evening the contracts with London cause him vexation, he makes certain stipulations to Herr Francke and sends the contracts back. A bat flutters around us, which I find very ominous; R. drives it away.