announce. I had barely finished when the ceiling did in fact break open. In the dim light, still at a great height, I had judged it badly, an angel in bluish-violet robes girt
with gold cords sank slowly down on great white silken-shining wings, the sword in its raised arm thrust out horizontally. “An angel, then!” I thought; “it has been flying
towards me all the day and in my disbelief I did not know it. Now it will speak to me.” I lowered my eyes. When I raised them again the angel was still there, it is true,
hanging rather far off under the ceiling (which had closed again), but it was no living angel, only a painted wooden figurehead off the prow of some ship, one of the kind
that hangs from the ceiling in sailors’ taverns, nothing more.
The hilt of the sword was made in such a way as to hold candles and catch the dripping tallow. I had pulled the electric light down; I didn’t want to remain in the dark,
there was still one candle left, so I got up on a chair, stuck the candle into the hilt of the sword, lit it, and then sat late into the night under the angel’s faint flame.
30 June. Hellerau to Leipzig with Pick. I behaved terribly. Couldn’t ask a question, answer one, or move; was barely able to look him in the eye. The Navy League
agitator, the fat, sausage-eating Thomas couple in whose house we lived, Prescher, who took us there; Mrs. Thomas, Hegner, Fantl and Mrs. Adler, the woman and the
child, Anneliese, Mrs. K., Miss P., Mrs. Fantl’s sister, K., Mendelssohn (the brother’s child; Alpinum, cockchafer larvae, pineneedle bath); tavern in the forest called
Natura, Wolff, Haas; reading Narciss aloud in the Adler garden, sightseeing in the Dalcroze house, evening in the tavern in the forest, Bugra—terror after terror.
Failures: didn’t find the Natura, ran up and down Struvestrasse; wrong tram to Hellerau; no room in the tavern in the forest; forgot that I was supposed to get a
telephone call from E. there, hence went back; Fantl had left; Dalcroze in Geneva; next morning got to the tavern in the forest too late (F. had telephoned for nothing);
decided to go not to Berlin but Leipzig; pointless trip; by mistake, a local train; Wolff was just going to Berlin; Lasker-Schüler appropriated Werfel; pointless visit to the
exhibition; finally, to cap it all, quite pointlessly dunned Pick for an old debt in the Arco.
1 July. Too tired.
5 July. To have to bear and to be the cause of such suffering!
23 July. The tribunal in the hotel. Trip in the cab. F.’s face. She patted her hair with her hand, wiped her nose, yawned. Suddenly she gathered herself together and
said very studied, hostile things she had long been saving up. The trip back with Miss Bl. The room in the hotel; heat reflected from the wall across the street.
Afternoon sun, in addition. Energetic waiter, almost an Eastern Jew in his manner. The courtyard noisy as a boiler factory. Bad smells. Bedbug. Crushing is a
difficult decision. Chambermaid astonished: There are no bedbugs anywhere; once only did a guest find one in the corridor.
At her parents’. Her mother’s occasional tears. I recited my lesson. Her father understood the thing from every side. Made a special trip from Malmö to meet me,
traveled all night; sat there in his shirt sleeves. They agreed that I was right, there was nothing, or not much, that could be said against me. Devilish in my innocence.
Miss Bl.’s apparent guilt.
Evening alone on a bench on Unter den Linden. Stomachache. Sad-looking ticket-seller. Stood in front of people, shuffled the tickets in his hands, and you could only
get rid of him by buying one. Did his job properly in spite of all his apparent clumsiness—on a full-time job of this kind you can’t keep jumping around; he must also try to
remember people’s faces. When I see people of this kind I always think: How did he get into this job, how much does he make, where will he be tomorrow, what awaits