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A WAR INTERLUDE or ON THE HILLS OF FLORENCE DURING THE WAR When I left France for Italy in 1940 it was the peaceful atmosphere of Florence that attracted me and had much to do with my decision to remain there. I first rented and then purchased a villa with its old-time garden and adjoining farm on one of the hills of Florence with a ten minutes walk down to the Ponte Vecchio. But no sooner did I retire to this seemingly peaceful retreat than war declared by Italy. At that time I was in the bed nursing a sprained leg. On receiving notice to join other Americans about to leave for America I found it physically impossible to do so. Besides I was convinced that my country would never go to war with an old country whose beauty she loved and whose culture she respected. Besides, had not our President proclaimed: " I assure you again and again no American boys will be sacrificed on foreign battle-fields!" During this first summer I had to lie most of the time on a chaise longue under the "tiglio" tree in the garden. painting was of course out of the question, demanding as it did an abstraction unsuited to the moment: but, otherwise my all but solitary life went