The little village of Valeggio, near the Lago di Guarda, was fixed upon as the spot where the commissaries of both armies should meet to arrange on the exchange of prisoners. It stood at about an equal distance from their headquarters, and, although a poor and insignificant hamlet, was conveniently situated for the purpose in hand. Soon after daybreak, the stirring sounds of marching troops awoke the inhabitants, and a half-squadron of Piedmontese lancers were seen to ride up the narrow street, and, dismounting, to picket their horses in the little Piazza of the market. Shortly after these came an equal number of Hungarian hussars, “Radetzky's Own,” who drew up in the square before the church; each party seeming carefully to avoid even a momentary contact with the other. Several country carts and wagons lined the street, for a number of prisoners had arrived the preceding evening, and taken up their quarters in the village, who might now be seen projecting their pale faces and bandaged heads from many a casement, and watching with eager curiosity all that was going forward. About an hour later, an Austrian General, with his staff, rode in from the Peschiera road, while, almost at the very instant, a calèche with four horses dashed up from the opposite direction, conveying the Piedmontese “Commissary.”
So accurately timed was the arrival, that they both drew up at the door of the little inn together, and as the one dismounted, the other alighted from his carriage.
The etiquette of precedence, so easily settled in the ordinary course of events, becomes a matter of some difficulty at certain moments, and so the two Generals seemed to feel it, as, while desirous of showing courtesy, each scrupled at what might seem a compromise of his country's dignity.
The Austrian officer was a very old man, whose soldierlike air and dignified deportment recalled the warriors of a past century. The other, who was slighter and younger, exhibited an air of easy unconcern, rather smacking of courts than camps, and vouching for a greater familiarity with salons than with soldier life.
They uncovered and bowed respectfully to each other, and then stood, each waiting, as it were, for the initiative of the other.
“After you, General,” said the younger, at length, and with a manner which most courteously expressed the deference he felt for age.
“I must beg you to go first, sir,” replied the Austrian. “I stand here on the territory of my master, and I see in you all that demands the deference due to a guest.”
The other smiled slightly, but obeyed without a word; and, ascending the stairs, was followed by the old General into the little chamber destined for their conference. Slight and trivial as this incident was, it is worth mention, as indicating the whole tone of the interview,—one characterized by a proud insistence on one side, and a certain plastic deference on the other. The Austrian spoke like one who felt authorized to dictate his terms; while the Piedmontese seemed ready to acquiesce in and accept whatever was proffered. The letters which accredited them to each other lay open on the table; but as this preliminary conversation had not assumed the formal tone of business, neither seemed to know the name or title of the other. In fact, it appeared like a part of the necessary etiquette that they were simply to regard each other as representatives of two powers, neither caring to know or recognize any personal claims.
Lists of names were produced on both sides. Master-rolls of regiments, showing the precise ranks of individuals, and their standing in the service, all arranged with such care and accuracy as to show that the conference itself was little more than a formality. A case of brevet-rank, or the accident of a staff appointment, might now and then call for a remark or an explanation, but, except at these times, the matter went on in a mere routine fashion; a mark of a pencil sufficing to break a captivity, and change the whole fate of a fellow-man!
“Our task is soon ended, sir,” said the Austrian, rising at last. “It would seem that officers on both sides prefer death to captivity in this war.”