Saturday, September 16:
Hermine has had to go home, so the entire quintet is left in my hands. Loldi, the only one who misses Hermine, becomes ill; great woes. R. works, and reverts to yesterday’s wretched experience: “Yes, the Bible talks of princes and merchants, and it is right; but I am expecting a miracle, and it will come, you will see. I don’t know how or where, but it will come.” I tell him that I also believe this; to me the miracle is that he is working.
He tells me to ignore Frau W. entirely; but I find it impossible to offend someone who once played a role in his life, and I tell her in a few words what these Munich performances mean to us.
At lunch, for what reason I do not know, R. told me that in his youth the worst thing he could imagine was to take leave of somebody forever, and he knew now that he could never have had Fritz and Kos put to death if he had had to say goodbye to them. I understand that; I once had to take leave of somebody, and from that hour, which also brought me my first gray hairs, I realized the true meaning of life. Up till then everything I had read in the poets about the dreadfulness and blameworthiness of life I could feel only intuitively; but when I gave Hans my hand in farewell, I felt it all inside myself, and the veil of illusion was torn forever. From then on I understood life and death, and from then on I have wished for nothing more.
I put Loldi to bed and go for a drive with the other children; Fidi is also not quite well. The day is rather tiring, but I love such emergencies, and it does me good to know that the children enjoy being alone with me.