needlework for A.’s mother and the teacher had a good lamp; she let herself be kissed without resistance; he had already made her a declaration of his love; she still
goes for walks with him in spite of everything, wanted to give him a Christmas present; once she wrote, Something unpleasant has happened to me but nothing came of
it.
A. questioned her in the following way: How did it happen? I want to know all the details. Did he only kiss you? How often? Where? Didn’t he lie on you? Did he
touch you? Did he want to take off your clothes?
Answer: I was sitting on the sofa with my sewing, he on the other side of the table. Then he came over, sat down beside me, and kissed me; I moved away from him
towards the arm of the sofa and was pressed down with my head against the arm. Except for the kiss, nothing happened.
During the questioning she once said: “What are you thinking of? I am a virgin.”
Now that I think of it, my letter to Dr. Weiss was written in such a way that it could all be shown to F. Suppose he did that today and for that reason put off his
answer?
26 January. Unable to read Thürheim, though she has been my delight these past few days. Letter to Miss Bl. now sent on its way. How it has hold of me and presses
against my brow. Father and Mother playing cards at the same table.
The parents and their grown children, a son and a daughter, were seated at table Sunday noon. The mother had just stood up and was dipping the ladle into the
round-bellied tureen to serve the soup, when suddenly the whole table lifted up, the tablecloth fluttered, the hands lying on the table slid off, the soup with its tumbling
bacon balls spilled into the father’s lap.
The way I almost insulted my mother just now because she had lent Elli Die böse Unschuld (Evil Innocence), which I had myself intended to offer her only
yesterday. “Leave me my books! I have nothing else.” Speeches of this kind in a real rage.
The death of Thürheim’s father: “The doctors who came in soon thereafter found his pulse very weak and gave the invalid only a few more hours to live. My God, it
was my father they were speaking of! A few hours only, and then dead.”
28 January. Lecture on the miracles of Lourdes. Free-thinking doctor; bares his strong and energetic teeth, takes great delight in rolling his words. “It is time that
German thoroughness and probity stand up to Latin charlatanism.” Newsboys of the Messager de Lourdes: “Superbe guérison de ce soir!” “Guérison affirmée!”
(Superb cure this evening! Proven cure!)—Discussion: “I am a simple postal official, nothing more.” “Hôtel de l’Univers.”— Infinite sadness as I left, thinking of F.
Am gradually calmed by my reflections.
Sent letter and Weiss’s Galeere (Galley) to Bl.
Quite some time ago A.’s sister was told by a fortune-teller that her eldest brother was engaged and that his fiancée was deceiving him. At that time he rejected all
such stories in a rage. I: “Why only at that time? It is as false today as it was then. She hasn’t deceived you, has she?” He: “It’s true that she hasn’t, isn’t it?”
2 February. A.: A girl friend’s lewd letter to his fiancée. “If we were to take everything as seriously as when we were under the domination of the confessional
sermons.” “Why were you so backward in Prague, better to have one’s fling on a small scale than a large.” I interpret the letter according to my own opinion, in favor
of his fiancée, with several good arguments occurring to me.
Yesterday A. was in Schluckenau. Sat in the room with her all day holding the bundle of letters (his only baggage) in his hand and didn’t stop questioning her. Learned
nothing new; an hour before leaving he asked her: “Was the light out during the kissing?” and learned the news, which makes him inconsolable, that the second time W.
kissed her he switched off the light. W. sat sketching on one side of the table, L. sat on the other (in W.’s room, at 11 p.m.) and read Asmus Semper aloud. Then W.