I now hastily dressed myself also, and after I had informed them downstairs that the Chief had gone off to Sedan to meet the Emperor Napoleon, who had left the fortress, I followed him as fast as I could. Some 800 paces from the bridge across the Meuse at Donchery to the right of the road, planted with poplars, stands a single house, then the residence of a Belgian weaver. It is painted yellow, is but one story high, and has four windows on the front. There are white shutters to the windows on the ground floor; the venetian blinds on those of the first floor are also painted white, and it has a slate roof, like most of the houses at Donchery. Near it to the left is a potato field, now full of white blossoms, while to the right, across the path that leads to the house, stand some bushes. I see here that the Chancellor has already met the Emperor. In front of the house are six French officers of high rank, of whom five have caps with gold trimmings, while that worn by the sixth is black. What appears to be a hackney coach with four seats is waiting on the road. Bismarck and his cousin, Count Bohlen, are standing opposite the Frenchmen, while a little way off is Leverström, as well as two hussars, one brown and one black. At 8 o’clock Moltke arrives with a few officers of the general staff, but leaves again after a short stay. Soon afterwards a short, thick-set man, in a red cap braided with gold lace, and wearing red trousers and a hooded cape lined with red, steps from behind the house and speaks at first to the French officers, some of whom are sitting under the hedge by the potato field. He has white kid gloves, and smokes a cigarette. It is the Emperor. At the short distance at which I stand from him I can clearly distinguish his features. There is something soft and dreamy in the look of his light grey eyes, which resemble those of people who have lived fast. His cap is set a little to the right, in which direction the head is also bent. The short legs do not seem in proportion with the long upper part of the body. His whole appearance has something unmilitary about it. The man is too soft, I am inclined to think too pulpy, for the uniform he wears. One could even fancy that he is capable of becoming sentimental at times. Those ideas, which are mere impressions, force themselves upon one all the more when one glances at the tall, well-set figure of our Chancellor. Napoleon seems fatigued, but not very much depressed. Nor does he look so old as I had expected. He might pass for a tolerably well-preserved man of fifty. After a while he goes over to the Chief, and speaks to him for about three minutes, and then--still smoking and with his hands behind his back--walks up and down by the potato garden. A further short conversation follows between the Chancellor and the Emperor, begun by Bismarck, after which Napoleon once more converses with his French suite. About a quarter to 9 o’clock Bismarck and his cousin leave,