Sunday, December 31:
R. had a good night, but he is not feeling well. At breakfast we talk a lot about Lusch; he feels she should accompany her grandfather to Hungary, there would be prospects of marriage there. Final rehearsal for me; then with Fidchen to the woodcarver Besarel, finally met R. in the Piazzetta (after having bought a photograph of the Moretto for Lusch and looked briefly with Jouk. at the Madonna Pesaro in the Doge’s Palace.) [Added in margin: “Both yesterday, and my inspection of the Moretto the day before.”]
At lunch he is in turn irritable and full of fun. When it is pointed out that the New Year starts on a Monday, he says, “Then it is beginning well again,” and he tells of a man being led to execution who asked, “What day is it today?” “Monday.” “Ah, the week is starting well.” He has sent off his article (he read it to me yesterday afternoon, to my great delight).
In the afternoon we receive some calls, among them Herr Passini, whom we find quite pleasant. A grateful letter from a chorister in Darmstadt pleases R., and a curious one from Seidl amuses him. He writes out a telegram to the King, and Lusch takes it in the evening to the post office. We have a New Year’s Eve whist party and are all very merry, the children melt wax. (The photograph of the Moretto makes a great impression on R., and he reproaches me for having doubted whether it would.)