Wednesday, January 4:
R. dreamed of a performance of Lohengrin in which the singers, and particularly Scaria, had forgotten their roles. He again complains bitterly of his chest spasms and suffers from the cold in the morning. At lunch he complains of the exertions of his work. Also, the weather is dull, R. feels it and orders a fire. At supper we manage to amuse him with all kinds of accounts of the “evil eye” here. After supper we attempt to read a dialogue by Stein, Saint Catherine of Siena, but R. soon interrupts the inadequate reading (mine); he also finds the subject distasteful—a saint involved can say is that a woman like that is stupid. We then play whist.