Tuesday, November 21:
R. got up once, but he is feeling better. Of people like Herr K[ö]stlin, in the Allgemeine Zeitung, he says they give him the impression of having just come from their villages, where their fathers are still sitting in their windmills. Unfortunately R. is much vexed around lunchtime by overly strong heating, rudeness of the servant, intimidation of the children. In very bad weather we ride to the bath house, but it is inhospitable there, too, and we turn back. Gradually, with the help of time, I manage to raise his spirits, and when we arrive at the Palazzo Vendramin, he himself suggests a visit to my father. There he is delighted with the second window, which offers such a pleasant view over the canal. Our lunch is accompanied by some inner agitation. In the afternoon I pay calls with my father; R., in Saint Mark’s Square with the children, returns home in annoyance. But he gradually calms down; I find him in a tranquil mood, reading the history of the Persians, which he would like to see more widely known. In the evening we play whist.