I dined with the Rosens, and McEvoy was there, also Mr. Louis Wiley, Manager of the New York TIMES. I left hurriedly so as to be at the Aeolian Hall in plenty of time. The lecture was at 8:30. I found Mr. Heywood Broun there. He had consented to introduce me and did so by a most charming and flattering speech which, as I am a stranger, I appreciated very much. An American audience is very quick and full of humor. They are on the idea before one has had time to get to it oneself. I began by pointing out the difficulties of the situation. First of all, I said, my severest critic is in the house, he has heard me speak before, and he has insisted on being present tonight,--his years are five, and if he goes to sleep, I shall know my lecture has been dull! (Everyone looked towards Dick!) When I told of my arrival in Moscow and that Mrs. Kameneff met us and upbraided him--they never gave me a chance to finish my sentence. The whole house laughed, and went on laughing, and they laughed all the more at my discomfiture! When the laughter subsided I then finished, I said that she upbraided him for having brought an artist half across Europe, to do portraits at such a critical period, and Kameneff replied that he simply did not agree with her. Of course there was a large Radical element, and so I got a good reception; they were sympathetic. I didn’t realize they were radicals and interpreted it as sympathy from the good New Yorkers. Whatever element it was they were tolerant and encouraging. When I began about Trotzky I forgot my audience, and got carried away, I seemed to have touched the magnetic cord to Moscow, straight to Trotzky! I described this man of wit, fire and genius--I talked of him as a Napoleon of peace! And then, suddenly remembering, I pulled myself together, hesitated and said I wouldn’t say any more about Trotzky! There were shouts of “go on!” This _must_ have come from the radical element--but I was too wrought up and fevered to think politically. When it was over, Dick joined me on the stage amid applause--people came to the footlights, and I went down on my knees to talk to my friends who came to the edge. Afterwards, on the way out, scores of people of all kinds surrounded me. One, a woman with a tragic and strong face, said, “Let me thank you for being so fair and unprejudiced. I am a Communist, I have not yet served my sentence ...” Her face was convulsed with emotion and traces of suffering ... there are martyr fanatics. The more I look back on what I’ve done, the more it frightens me. I wonder how I ever skated on thin ice as I did. FEBRUARY 5, 1921. Moved into the flat. It is uncomfortable but I shall get it right. We are three people and two beds, Dick has to sleep on the sofa in my room. The telephone is cut off, and the heat does not seem to work, but for these two latter items one is thankful!