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jokingly: "Do You believe me, when I say, that if things  
should go wrong for me, I could sell this to any foreign  
country and receive enough for it, to be able to live."  
"Doubtless - I said - but meanwhile You could read some  
of it to me." He looked smilingly at me and vivaciously  
exclaimed "Just to You'. No, never, never." 'Why do You  
say 'Just to You,' why not read it to me as well as to somebody else?"   
He continued saying no to my requests,  
but all the time I knew that he had a great desire to read  
me something. The book lay open on the table. "You have  
asked me what Mussolini thinks of the Germans." Indeed, I  
did not recall having asked a similar question, but replied  
either yes or no. I quietly waited for him to begin. "Well,  
just see what happened to come under my eyes: the news had  
been transmitted that the German troups had entered Rumania," he began   
reading from the open page of the diary. "Mussolini called me to the   
Venezian Palace. He Was enraged.  
He cried out: 'once more Germany has played one of its  
plotted tricks. But, next time Hitler opens the newspapers,  
he will read that I have attacked Greece.' He was silent  
for a moment, then he let his fist drop down on the table and cried   
'Corfu'." I burst out; laughing. I could picture  
the scene; I saw the man, who had dreamt that he dominated  
his ally, suddenly wake up and find himself his slave.  
Above all, I saw him furiously pounding the table with his  
fist, crying out 'Corfu". "But why Corfu?" I demanded.  
"He had many good reasons for being angry with the Gemans.  
Why should he just choose Corfu? for which he was indebted  
to the English. Revenge the death of Traiano. Moreover King  
                         Carlo. . .