Worn out with fatigue, but unable to sleep, I have my little carriage harnessed on the afternoon of Monday, the twenty-seventh, and go away about 6 o'clock to breathe in the open air the freshness of the evening and to find a little repose by escaping, for a moment, from the dismal sights which surround me on every side in Castiglione.
It was a favorable time, for no movement of the troops had been ordered during the day.
Calm had succeeded the terrible agitation of the previous days. Here and there are visible pools of dried blood which redden the battle-field. One meets newly turned earth, white with freshly strewn lime, indicating the place where repose the victims of the twenty-fourth.
At Solferino, whose square tower has proudly dominated for some centuries that country, where for the third time have just met two of the greatest powers of modern days, one still picks up much debris which covers, even in the cemeteries, the crosses and the bloody stones of the tombs. The ground is strewn with swords, guns, haversacks, cartridge boxes, tin boxes, shakos, helmets and belts. Almost everything is twisted, torn and broken.
I arrive at Cavriana at about 9 o'clock in the evening.
The train of war surrounding the headquarters of the Emperor of France is an imposing sight.
I seek the Marshal, Duke of Magenta, with whom I am personally acquainted.
Not knowing exactly where his army corps is encamped, I stop my little carriage on the park opposite the house occupied, since Friday evening, by the Emperor Napoleon. I find myself suddenly in the midst of a group of generals, sitting on straw chairs and wooden stools, smoking their cigars and inhaling the fresh air before the improvised palace of the Sovereign.
While I inquire about the location of Marshal MacMahon, several generals, very suspicious of my arrival, question the corporal, wounded at Magenta, who begged permission to accompany me on this excursion through the armies as his rank would ensure me safe conduct. Sitting beside the coachman, he gives me, in a certain degree, official character. The generals desire to know who I am and to discover the object of the mission with which they suppose I am charged, for they cannot imagine that a simple traveler would dare to risk himself alone in the midst of the camps at such a time.