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the gardener and at the same time rates him for not providing us with salads from the 'orto'. Had she not seen Mario's fat wife carrying into her own kitchen some of these precious salads? And besides what about Mario's relations, his sister and two children, now living with him in the two rooms without our permission. What do they eat if not what comes out of our small kitchen-garden? 'You must call them to account, you are the padrona' says my friend. To end the day N. discovers a pot of fig jam cooling on the wall outside. Antonio is making jam on the sly, so it would seem. It is still warm. We eat some on the spot. It is excellent. Alas! it is the Sfollati's jam, we are told! We shall have to replace it and there is no sugar. This, another problem to be solved tomorrow.

September 28th Actual hunger is now the order of the day for most people. And due to hunger our friends are showing up most unexpectant characteristics. The Countess paid us a visit yesterday, the first since the worst days of the German retreat. She is now a skeleton, for she has been forbidden by her doctor to eat even the very few edibles available. Her longing for a good beefsteak is pathetic. Good beefsteaks belong to the past and will remain so, I imagine, for a long time to come. D.di D. is also very thin and his handsome face distorted by a constant snarl. He hates the Germans but admits that things are much worse now. Not only is there no black market but there are no markets at all. Plenty of food-stuffs in the country, but military