Long live our “servant”! We celebrate warmly the child who has brought us so much joy; memories of the day of his birth.
In the afternoon we drive to the Eremitage, which we prefer to the Fantaisie; while the children are watching the water sprays in the grotto, R. and I settle down in the woods, listening to the twittering of the little daytime chatterers, as R. calls the birds. Blissful mood, although R. is not well, for as a result of a small error in diet he did not sleep during the night and in the morning had a horrible dream, in which he was set upon by a ruffian; he defended himself and received help from another person, whom he abandoned, and fled; and when this man had overcome the ruffian, and looked at R. from a distance, the latter returned to him and gouged his eyes out! “Thus in a dream,” R. says, “fear, the urge to awake, turns into cowardice and vileness.”
In the evening unpacking the drinking glasses with R. — Much concern on my part that we are greatly exceeding our finances.