Tuesday, November 1:
R. had a good night, and we are busy with packing and farewells. At lunch with our good friends the Grosses. Departure at 7 o'clock in the evening. Siegfried weeping! Before our departure R. drove to the station to look for our carriage; at the very moment of our arrival it had been shunted onto another rail for half an hour.
When we are in our saloon carriage, R. says he can now see Georg spending all day playing billiards with his wife; I quote the line from Das unterbrochene Opferfest, 'For husbands it is right and proper with their wives to dwell.' 'Except that here what is right and proper is not allowed,' R. replies.
This line, which he considers the most stupid imaginable, causes me to remind R. that in Frankfurt (1862), when Antonio's remarks struck me as somewhat curious, he had aroused in me an admiration for Tasso which still persists, whereas he no longer cares for it. 'I admit,' says R., 'that it is a truthful portrayal, but of a world which means nothing to one.'