Down from Berlin to No Man’s Land came a supply of tobacco, accordions, flashlights, bad whisky, and Hindenburg _schneights_ (knives). Behind the German lines the soldier merchants set up their wares, and the Russians in worn boots and faded coats walked out across No Man’s Land to trade with them. The Germans asked for soap, bread, and clothing; also they would sell for rubles--old picture rubles of the Tsar’s régime. They turned up their noses at “Kerensky” money, and would have none of the Bolshevist issue. The Russian soldiers had little bread to give them--they had all too little for themselves--and less clothing. But they told their German brothers, with shining, thankful eyes, how glad they were that peace was coming--that they would no longer have to kill each other. They advised them to go home and make a revolution, as they had done, and promised that in this new world of brothers there should be an end to wars. Inside the council chamber at Brest-Litovsk, the German Foreign Minister reminded delegates of the season of the year. “It is an auspicious circumstance that the negotiations open within sight of that festival which for centuries past has promised peace on earth, good will to men,” he said. “Our negotiations will be guided by the spirit of peaceable humanity and of mutual esteem.” It was Saturday, December 22. Prince Leopold of Bavaria was there. The Austrian Foreign Minister, Count Czernin, with a delegation of eight Austrians, was there; and from Bulgaria, Minister Popoff and four assistants, Nesimy Bey, former Minister of Foreign Affairs from Turkey, Ambassador Hakki, General Zekki, and under foreign secretary Hemit Bey. The plenipotentiaries of the Central Powers were taking the delegation seriously. General Hoffman paid gallant compliments to Madame Bitzenko, and laughingly suggested that they have their photographs taken together. Von Kühlmann asked the chief of the Russian delegation to state the main principles of the Russian peace proposal. The Russian demands numbered fifteen, applying the now famous formula to the world situation. On Christmas the Germans submitted their counter-proposals. In Petrograd we listened day and night for the ticking of a wireless message from Brest-Litovsk. A German and Austrian delegation arrived, and took up headquarters at the Hotel Angletaire and at the Grand just around the corner. Little blond Petroff came in, loudly protesting that he had no platters on which to bring me my dinner, because they had all been taken to feed the Germans. Occasionally, with some of my American friends, I sat at dinner at a table adjoining that at which the Germans were dining. We regarded them curiously, and they looked upon us with equal suspicion. I spent much of my time at Smolney those days, anxious for the first word that would indicate the Russian attitude toward the German peace terms. One day there was a rumor abroad that Russia would reject the counter-proposal.