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get (Tomalino refuses to send us any more wheat). Of course I was awakened too.

August 2nd A sinister whistling of shells and terrific explosions all night long. The English are still being kept at bay. We have no news of any kind, only hearsay which generally turns out to be false.

Yesterday our Sfollato asked to speak to me. He was much agitated about some friends of his whose home the Germans has sacked, and they, escaping with only what they had on, had walked some sixteen miles to Florence. The man found refuge in a monastery nearby, his wife was asking me to take her in. Would I allow this lady who up to now possessed a beautiful estate near Florence, to remain a night or so in my villa? Harbouring the persecuted, for such they seemed to be, is about the most dangerous thing one can do at the present moment, especially if one is American. But I had caught sight in the Hall of a figure covered with dust and showing signs of great fatigue. Without hesitation I consented.

August 3rd. From now on there is confusion in my diary. Only very brief notes can help me record those momentous days which were passed in a half alive condition, for the terrific booming of cannons made sleep impossible either by night or by day. Our slip of land was now directly in the front line of an artillery battle. We were receiving 'en plein' shells from the incoming English and shells from the departing Germans. With little variation that battle continued for over