Thursday, October 26:
Letter from my uncle Eduard, who, now realizing that I am right, is writing to Rothschild; whether it will do any good we shall see.
R. reads me an alteration he has made in Brunnhilde's last words; I beg him to leave it as it was, and he agrees, saying that the new version comes too close to literary drama.
He works. Lulu is still unwell. In the afternoon Marie M. visits, and I discuss many things with her. R. joins us, bringing the first volume of his writings and the news that the theater in Darmstadt has burned down; a Satanic stroke, since it means our Brandt will now have no time to work for us. R. had known of it since morning, but said nothing to me, then forgot it because of Fidi and Loldi. "It is a calamity, such as always strikes me when I find somebody."