Thursday, October 6:
R. had a good night, and since the sun is shining on us again, I have hopes of a good mood, but the wind is blowing, which R. finds unbearable. To make up for it, however, Brandt arrives, with him the Bruckners; when we return from our drive to the theater, where we inspect the box, the maquettes displayed there please us all very much.
Some guests come in the evening; my father plays Beethoven’s Variations, and in such a way that R. asks whether one can believe that Beethoven himself ever played them thus. He thinks not, and he praises the simplicity which enables each melody to come to our ears as an individual figure. Both day and evening pass peaceably.