Gorizia and other subjects engaged my attention, and I had forgotten the incident when, to my surprise, one day Colonel Barbarich came up to me and said that if I still wished to make the sketch of the General, His Excellency would be pleased to receive me on the following Monday morning at eleven o’clock precisely, and would give me a sitting of exactly half-an-hour. “But,” added Colonel Barbarich, “you must clearly understand it is only half-an-hour, and also that the General will not talk to you as he will not be interviewed.” The “following Monday” was nearly a week ahead, so this was methodic and business-like indeed. Of course, in spite of all the conditions attaching to the sitting, I was delighted to find that my request had not been overlooked, so I replied jocularly to the Colonel that failing an earthquake or the ill-timed intervention of an Austrian shrapnel, I would certainly make it my duty to keep the appointment. Well, the auspicious day arrived in due course, and so did I in good time at the Censorship to meet Colonel Barbarich, who was to take me on to the General, whose quarters were in a palace originally intended for the Prefect of Udine, only a short distance away. With the knowledge of the punctuality and precision of the General, at l’heure militaire, that is to say, as the clock was striking eleven, we made our way up the grand staircase to the first floor where the General resided and had his offices. In a large anti-chamber, with a big model of the Isonzo Front occupying the whole of the centre, we were received by an aide-de-camp, who evidently expected us exactly at that moment. Colonel Barbarich briefly introduced me, then to my surprise left at once. The Aide-de-camp took my card into an adjoining apartment, and returning immediately, said that His Excellency General Cadorna was waiting for me, and ushered me in. [Illustration: A grey-haired officer of medium height, whom I immediately recognised as the Generalissimo, was reading an official document _To face page 283_] Up till then nothing could have been more matter-of-fact and business-like. It reminded me of the old days when I sought journalistic interviews with city magnates. But the business-like impression vanished as soon as I was inside the door. I found myself in a very large room, well but scantily furnished. Standing by a table, which was covered with maps, a grey-haired officer of medium height, whom I immediately recognised as the Generalissimo, was reading an official document. He came forward and cordially shook hands with me in the most informal way. I began to thank him for his courtesy in receiving me, and was apologising for not being able to speak Italian, when he cut me short, saying with a laugh: “I speak but very leetle English,” but “Peut-être vous parlez Français.” On my telling him I did he exclaimed genially: “A la bonheur, then we will speak in French. Now what do you want me to do? I am at your service.”