Sunday, December 24:
R. slept well. The morning is spent in preparations; R. says my face so often wears an expression of delicate sorrow, and that is why he is so pleased to hear me “singing like a lark.” He brings me better news of Hans. The doctor is allowing Eva to go to the “concert.” And so this book can be concluded with a fervent prayer of thanksgiving! And blessings beseeched for all the dear, dear beings I can call my own!
[End of the twentieth book of the Diaries.] Toward 6 o’clock the tree is lit in the sala, and there is a very merry presentation of gifts in which our Italian servants join with great delight. My father, too, whom we imagined to be quite above such things, is with us heart and soul. Around 7:30 we set off in three gondolas, with the moon shining and bells chiming, for La Fenice. Eva is allowed to come with us!
The hall is festively lit; my father, the children, and I go in first, and receive a friendly reception. Somewhat later R. is received with cheers. The two first movements are played fairly quickly in succession, then there is a pause; R. comes to me and my father, talks to me very gaily. I send thanks to the orchestra players, which earns me an “evviva.” At the end the players come to join us, and my health is toasted. Then R. murmurs in my father’s ear, “Do you love your daughter?” My father looks startled. “Then sit down at the piano and play.” My father does so at once, to everybody’s cheering delight. Then in French R. relates the history of his symphony. Toward 11 o’clock we ride home, Venice transfigured in a blue light. The children enchanted with the evening, R. very content!