It was only a run of about four miles, but it was across country and away from the troops, so it was a bit difficult to find our way in the dark; but we managed after some delays to get there somehow, though it was close on ten o’clock when we arrived. It struck me as rather a coincidence my returning at such an hour to the place I had left only the day before.
Not a light was to be seen in the house, and had it not been for the soldiers on sentry duty outside one might have thought it was uninhabited.
It was a bit late to pay a visit, but we had come so far that we decided to risk it, and groped our way up through the garden to the front door. There we found an orderly, who took our cards in.
It was pitch dark where we stood in the shadow of the house, but the sky was illumined every now and then by fitful flashes of light from the battlefield. The thunder of the guns was still as terrific here as on the previous day, but you could not fail to note that the firing was now of greater volume from the Italian side.
We were not kept waiting long. The orderly returned, accompanied by an officer.
The General, he told us, was only just sitting down to dinner, and would be very pleased if we would join him.
Of course there was no refusing, though we felt a bit diffident as we were white with dust. However, à la guerre, comme à la guerre, so we followed the officer in.
The contrast between the darkness and gloom outside and the brightness within was startling: a corridor led into a large central hall, such as one sees in big country houses in England. This was evidently used as a staff-office, and was lighted by several shaded lamps, which gave it quite a luxurious appearance. The dining room was off the hall.
There was a large party at dinner, amongst whom Signor Bissolati and several of the officers I had met the previous day.
Everyone appeared unfeignedly pleased to see us, and the General, doubtless out of compliment to me as an Englishman, seated me next to him. That dinner party will long live in my memory.