The painter is here and with him an awful disorder. Leon rang me up when I was still in bed and rand off before I could get to the ‘phone. Later he rang me up however again. We arranged to meet in the afternoon but as he had his Frenchman on his hands I was to ring him up again before starting. I was prevented in dressing by Martha’s ‘phone call, she wanted to come in the afternoon, later Iren came just when I was ‘phoning Leon in vain. I managed to get him at last. We met and we both behaved entirely madly I’m afraid. I asked him some most inquisitive questions, which weren’t answered partly. I told him people talked strange things about him and he told me what those were. Tried to persuade me they were not true. Apparently they can’t be, though as I’m not an expert on the matter something might be wrong for all I know. He made love most fervently and I responded in much the same way. At the time it was natural and I meant the whole thing, but really it is most most ridiculous that I should be in such a fix, inocipled  in such a matter. – It was late when we asked for a taxi, he was too late for his appointment with the Frenchmen as it was. I went with him as far as his Hotel.