ble," where he invited to join
him any officers of high rank, who might be staying at the hotel, or, if
there were none such available, certain of his private friends. The food
supplied to ordinary people like myself was good, wholesome, reasonably
plentiful and cheap. At "the Staff table" special delicacies were
provided and additional courses, with no increase of charge. The
profits, he used to say, were made entirely on the drinks and smokes.

A series of rules was drawn up, that none of us might be led into any
avoidable temptation. All towns within reach,--Milan, Verona, Mantua,
Brescia, Peschiera,--were placed out of bounds. So, too, were some of
the larger villages on the shores of the Lake. The hours during which
alcoholic liquor might be obtained, either in the Hotels or in the Cafes
of Sirmione, were narrowly limited. Beer was strictly rationed.
Carefully regulated excursions on the Lake, by steamer or launch, were
permitted and even encouraged. Likewise bathing.

I spent a week here, from August 14th to 21st, in gloriously fine, hot
weather. Some said that the damp heat was relaxing and depressing, but
I, in my second Italian summer, was getting acclimatised. The place was
wonderfully beautiful. The end of the promontory is covered with olive
trees, the ground thickly carpeted with wild mint and thyme, surrounded
on three sides by the deep blue water of the Lake, along the shores of
which lie little white villages, backed by groups of straight, dark
cypresses, with mountain ranges rising in the background, range behind
range, and overhead the hot Italian sun, shining from a cloudless sky.
Here, at the point, were the ruins of what are called, upon what
evidence I know not, the Villa, the Baths and the Grotto of Catullus.
Here, too, was an Italian Anti-Aircraft Battery, and the Grotto of
Catullus was filled with their ammunition.

The Austrians still held the upper end of the Lake, including the town
of Riva. But only Italian motor boats now survived on the Lake,
occasionally raiding Riva. The Austrian boats had all been sunk early in
the war.

* * * * *

On the 15th I went round the lower end of the Lake in a steamer and,
passing along the shores of the beautiful Isola di Garda, on which
stands the less beautiful Villa Borghese, landed at Maderno, famous for
its lemon groves. Here a church was being used as a ration store. It had
fine carving on the door. The French had est