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a neighbor whose telephone we have used ever since ours was taken away, rushed in to tell us that the Signora S. had called up that her house had been bashed, that she and the Professor together with their two maids were our chosen "sfollati" (refugees). At our request they had obligingly inscribed their names at the Questura in order to forestall strangers [[strikethrough]] strangers [[/strikethrough]] being billeted in our house. It was most fortunate they did this for otherwise we should have been obliged to take in a Fascist general, with his wife and daughter.

I have already stated that Signora S. is a fierce Germanophobe, yet when the bombing of Paris was being deplored she airily declared: "C'est bien leur tour d'écoper!" (It is now their turn to suffer.) I wonder if when viewing the ruins of her own house, she is stoic enough to exclaim "C'est bien mon tour d'écoper!"

September 28th. Our "sfollati" have not yet arrived. It seems that they have gone to an hotel near their bombed villa so as to be able to search for belongings in the ruins.

My peasant who, out of curiosity, went down to see the destruction caused by the bombing found Signora S. digging about the stones and plaster of her house. On seeing him she lifted her head to hurl invectives against things in general and against Natalie and me in particular - so he said. Her outburst was of course of no importance, being only the tantrums of a distracted woman, but at once we lost ground with our peasant who had hitherto been much 

Transcription Notes:
Need accent on "ecoper" in two places