Tuesday, April 4:
R. feels worn out from our outing yesterday. Our conversation turns to Hans, whom R. criticizes severely; against this I see the blame attached to me for marrying him and thus perhaps exacerbating his tendencies. Then we talk about emigration, which is assuming extravagant proportions in Württemberg and Baden in consequence of the tariff policies. “And it is the best part of the population which is emigrating”; what remains is fodder for the Jews. I also tell R. my idea of a Wagner dictionary, touched on by Stein in his letter, and we talk about it.
At lunch he seems somewhat worn down, but he has a good rest in the afternoon, and the two of us set out for the Cyclopean Islands, with the idea of catching up with the children. However, they are not there. We go in the dirtiest of boats, rowed by three constantly chattering boatmen, in order to see the curious lava formations, and we resolve to return in the evening. The boatmen demand payment during the journey and then demand it again from our coachman, who - un peu d'insolence, as R. remarks while telling Gravina about it - gives them what they ask, laughing cheekily at us, and on top of that cadges a pinch of snuff from R. [Added in margin: “On our return from Taormina he asks Fidi how much smaller than the earth the moon is, and he adds, ‘A dreadfully big thing, this earth, much too big!’ ”]
We return home in laughing vexation, visit the splendid garden opposite, admire Etna, and give up our evening drive. In the evening whist, during which R. explains to Gravina why he always likes to play with me: because then he can bear both good and bad luck. He reads letters to Daniela about Hans, declaring himself completely indifferent to this correspondence. He tells me about the minister Gerber's edict, which so delights him that he has half a mind to write to the minister.
He is pleased with Fidi and feels he will be a better person than we are since the things we achieved only through difficulties and torments he is receiving without suffering.