lear to my two friends that so far from
England exploiting Italy, I myself suffered in exactly the same way
as any Italian, through the extraordinary liberties of our shipping
interest. "I pay as well as you do," I said; "the shippers' blockade of
Great Britain is more effective than the submarines'. My food, my coal,
my petrol are all restricted in the sacred name of private property.
You see, capital in England has hitherto been not an exploitation but
a hold-up. We are learning differently now.... And anyhow, Mr. Runciman
has been here and given Italy assurances...."

In the train to Modane this old story recurred again. It is imperative
that English readers should understand clearly how thoroughly these
little matters have been _worked_ by the enemy.

Some slight civilities led to a conversation that revealed the Italian
lady in the corner as an Irishwoman married to an Italian, and also
brought out the latent English of a very charming elderly lady opposite
to her. She had heard a speech, a wonderful speech from a railway train,
by "the Lord Runciman." He had said the most beautiful things about
Italy.

I did my best to echo these beautiful things.

Then the Irishwoman remarked that Mr. Runciman had not satisfied
everybody. She and her husband had met a minister--I found afterwards
he was one of the members of the late Giolotti government--who had been
talking very loudly and scornfully of the bargain Italy was making with
England. I assured her that the desire of England was simply to give
Italy all that she needed.

"But," said the husband casually, "Mr. Runciman is a shipowner."

I explained that he was nothing of the sort. It was true that he came
of a shipowning family--and perhaps inherited a slight tendency to
see things from a shipowning point of view--but in England we did not
suspect a man on such a score as that.

"In Italy I think we should," said the husband of the Irish lady.

4

This incidental discussion is a necessary part of my impression of Italy
at war. The two western allies and Great Britain in particular have to
remember Italy's economic needs, and to prepare to rescue them from the
blind exploitation of private profit. They have to remember these needs
too, because, if they are left out of the picture, then it becomes
impossible to understand the full measure of the risk Italy has faced in
undertaking this war for an idea. With a Latin lucidity she has counted
every risk, and wi