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household who will expect to partake of some of this food: Antonio, his wife and the new maid; the Sfollati and their cook, a friend of Antonio's, not to mention the gardener and his lazy wife who will certainly have a peck at it. What is more, did I not hear myself promising our neighbour (who had been exceptionally hospitable during the bombardments) to share my rations with her? And N. is she not planning in some dark recess of her mind to feed up the plump and greedy little French child who is very well taken care of at her school. So all considering, unless it be the miracle of loaves and fishes, I fail to see how N. and I are going to profit by our American rations.

September 7th   It would seem that the fighting is over in so far as Florence is concerned. The guns have stopped firing, the Germans having now retired beyond their range. For over a month and a half we have been deprived of sleep night and day. I am returning to my upstairs bedroom but N. will still remain on the ground-floor as she fears the clatter of vehicles in the street. 

We had a visit from a new overseer who has been negotiating with our former peasants. Now such a visit could provide no possible diversion of any kind had not N. decided to make of this funny little man with his inordinately big nose, a friend for life. Some days before she had had words with him over certain estimates he had made in favour of the disgraced peasants, 'One must construct bridges of gold for the departing enemy,' he kept repeating in Italian, but as we have no