Saturday, September 10:
Today I have completely lost my voice; whatever it is seems to be taking a little walk through my whole body. I nevertheless get up and sit down to lunch with R. and Richter. Soon back in bed, however, where I finish Die Aufgeregten and also read Der Gross-Cophta. In the evening R. reads me the conclusion of Richard II, every word a world in itself.
The children, whom I sent to watch the tableaux vivants, did not return until eleven o’clock, which worries me. But then I take pleasure in the impartiality with which they admire the other children, how prettily they were dressed and made to look prettier still, and never give a thought to themselves. But when they are out of the room, I am foolish enough to weep; I tell R. that this instance shows me once again that I have far more sympathy for the Countess than she has for me; for she knows how anxious and concerned I am that my children should not be treated in a less friendly way than others. Well, may God help my dear good little ones! R. is heavenly, he comforts me, begs me to be calm and gives me a letter from Claire to distract my mind.