Thursday, April 1:
Dreamed about the King, also of wild animals fighting with Russ; very little sleep. R. reports that he also did not sleep at all. But he goes off to his work and I to my letters, to J. Gerstenberg, who has asked me to sell a picture to the King; to Claire and to Hermine. Now I shall probably be going as far as Romanshorn to meet the children. Loldi is joyful, and even Eva, too.
R. has now brought his Siegfried to the summit! I fear an interruption on account of the redecorating arrangements.
After lunch we drive into town to make some purchases, a hat for Evchen, a dress for Loldi. At home, start of all the moving muddle; I lie down, since I cannot help, and read Lewes.
R. cheerful, he tells me that at times he has an unbounded confidence in his strength. The wicked are always with us, but in fact they never triumph; all that is needed is for the right one to come along, example: Odysseus. He says in dreams he often has the sense of flying, and that sometimes comes to him when he is awake, too; at times he feels he would need only an effort of will to find himself hovering high over everything. We will not go under, he declares.
This morning he had a letter from the Berlin Opera, which he did not immediately want to open, expecting something unpleasant as a consequence of his short note in the Jewish pamphlet. But, instead of that, Hülsen informs him very prettily of a production of Die Meistersinger in Berlin and Hanover. This is welcome, of course, but what miserable and pitiful creatures these people are!
In the evening R. speaks to me about the Odyssey and the Iliad, smoking and drinking beer. Since the joiners had been varnishing in the next room, all these various smells combine, and I gradually begin to feel dizzy and my head starts to ache; it robs me entirely of my vision and finally of my hearing, too.
When I told R. of my condition he became very angry, seeing a reproach in what was only an explanation. He then said many things it would have been better for him not to have said. I went up to my room where, feeling upset, I wept. Now I am wondering what would be the best thing to do: whether I should leave his temper to cool down or go to him, quietly explain again what had happened, and soothe him.
Hardly had I written this when R. came in to wish me good night. I then went downstairs to him and calmed his fantasies.