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Antonio is going to arrange a small kitchen for the "sfollati" and in future they will have to provide for themselves. I must try to find some cod-liver oil for Antonio.

October 7th.

Count V. has been imprisoned along with others who are supposed to have augmented their fortunes during the Fascist regime. I met Count V. some years ago at Venice, but it was shortly after my arrival here that I made his acquaintance more fully. To a small group of friends he offered to read aloud a few of d'Annunzio's letters written to me from the front during the last war. Among those present was His Excellency U. Ojetti whose permission was required for the publishing of these letters in my Memoirs.

At that time Count V., whose allure and bearing I admired, seemed to represent one of a group of Italians who were to make of Italy a great and prosperous nation.

Some months ago I again met Count V. at the M.'s. But what a change! His despondency, his bent head, his arms falling limply to his sides all were indicative that he had not withstood the blow.

"We are on our way to Vallombrosa to enjoy the fresh air and to live on fruits and berries," said his young and beautiful wife. It seems that they were hooted at the hotel on the very evening of their arrival. They left Vallombrosa the following day at dawn.

Speaking of Count V. brings to mind my meeting his daughter one afternoon at the B.B.'s. This brilliant young woman who, it was said,