Tuesday, August 30:
From Elisabeth Krockow, who cordially rejoices in my marriage. Loldchen had a good night, but she is still feverish. The doctor calls her illness catarrh of the lungs. Richter tells me at midday that he saw a little wren seized by a crow, he also heard its piteous cry.
Visit from Frl. M[eysenbug] from afternoon till evening; R. reads from his essay What Is German? and is surprised that I know it virtually by heart. We also make music before taking leave of our excellent friend. Wishing me a good night, R. says, “You are my good life,” and he says to Frl. M. with sweet impulsiveness, “Oh, I am so happy!” To me it is like a dream that I am really sufficient for him, indeed am permitted to make him happy!
We tell our friend an anecdote which Dr. Wille told us about Gottfried Kinkel and the Polish Count Plater; the latter had completely won over the former to the Polish cause; they came together in Dr. W.’s house and asked to be allowed to withdraw from the company for important discussions. At one point Frau W. goes in to offer them something, and she hears Kinkel say to Plater: “No, you must understand we cannot give you Danzig.” Frl. v. M. laughs heartily, saying it is typical of all democrats—how often had she heard them bargaining about Trieste!