Sunday, October 9:
He feels unwell and is sick; but he comes to Lusch’s present opening, which we are holding three days in advance, forms of burial. R. is not much in favor of cremation; he observes that in such cases the ceremony should consist of saying farewell to the corpse, which should then be borne off. But it is quite a different thing, he says, to rest side by side.
We go for a drive again today, and when we sit down to supper, R. tells me I should send a telegram to Princess W. - “My father is staying, my husband coming, Krug prevented” - which makes us laugh heartily (that was yesterday, Saturday). My father plays the Opus 111 Sonata and before that the A major, which R. calls the coming of spring; R. wishes the final movement to be taken somewhat slower, since he feels passionate accents are out of place in this sonata. My father humors him, and R. takes delight in this “blossoming and rustling of spring.”
While the others are playing whist, we speak with R. about Stein, and he says, “He is a big baby in swaddling clothes, who has still to be unwrapped.” When we say good night, he calls me “you lamb of God!” and continues, “Agnus Dei - it really should be ‘agnus mundi qui tollis peccata mundi’.”