Saturday, October 8:
R. had a good night and is also in a good mood for work. At lunch there is talk of the Sedan celebrations, and we wonder whether other nations also celebrate their victories, the English Waterloo, for example. R. says, “Not they, for them it is just a job, business.”
Today the sun shines on us; R. and I go for a drive and delight in the splendid sunset and the moon. And when I am with my father talking about Lusch’s journey, we hear someone outside singing, “We belong, we belong” - R. is standing there in the moonlight! We go to fetch him; he shows my father ein andres ist, which he has just done, and my father praises him for avoiding a feeling of precipitancy. Then R. and I walk through the garden in the moonlight.
At supper he is very cheerful, yet, so it seems to me, on edge. Friend Wolz. comes along; conversation with him; the others play whist, and R. is vexed by the seriousness with which it is played. The evening ends; we remain in the salon, R. and I, I very downcast, since Daniela did not take well the news that she should go with her grandfather, and it also means much work for me to prepare for her sudden departure. The coats of arms in the salon are mentioned, the salons of Mme Minghetti and Mimi; misunderstandings occur, melancholy discord prevails. R. leaves his bed, but I follow him at once and calm him down and beg him, if I have said something unkind to him, to put it down to my overtiredness.