Tuesday, August 9:
Mild the day, the Heavens gray, the heart is cowed, the spirit bowed, the breast beset, the eyes are wet, who’ll come to tell that all is well?
Today R. rescued Fidi from great disaster; pieces of broken glass had been left on the floor, he was crawling over it and had a large piece in his hand. He was just about to put it in his mouth when R. happened to see it. Constant danger is our sky and suffering our earth, the air between, which brings us a little refreshment, is hope!
This mood prevails all day, rain falls, we wait in vain for news; Loulou becomes unwell and Fidi’s inoculation takes effect. Letter from Prof. Nietzsche, who has resolved to join the army. I reply to him, saying the time is not yet ripe. We are having trouble with Richter, for he, too, would like to join up. Our one consolation yesterday we found in scenes from Shakespeare’s Henry V. Letter from Claire, her son has departed without being able to say goodbye! In the morning R. read me some splendid passages from his essay on Beethoven.