His simple and unaffected manner put me at once at my ease and made me instantly feel that this was going to be a “sympathetic” interview, and not a quasi official reception. I must mention that I had asked Colonel Barbarich to explain that I did not want to worry the General, but would be quite content if I were permitted to make a few jottings in my sketch book of him at work and some details of his surroundings. This, as I have explained, was granted, but with the curious proviso that I was not to talk whilst I was there. It came, therefore, as a very pleasant surprise to find myself received in this amicable fashion, and the ice being thus broken, I said, I should like to sketch him reading a document, as I found him on entering the room. He willingly acquiesced, and I at once started my drawing as there was no time to lose. With the recollection of the stipulation that I was not to open my mouth during the sitting, and that I was only allowed half-an-hour I went on working rapidly and in silence. But I soon found that the General was not inclined to be taciturn, and in a few moments we were chatting in the most unconventional manner as if we were old friends. As a matter of fact, I shrewdly suspected him of interviewing me. When he learned how long I had been on the Italian Front he was much interested, and was immediately anxious to know what I thought of his soldiers. Were they not splendid? He put the question with all the enthusiasm and affection of a father who is proud of his children. As may be imagined, I had no difficulty in convincing him that I have a whole-hearted admiration for the Italian Army after what I had seen of its wonderful doings at Gorizia and elsewhere. It was then that he gave me the news of the declaration of war between Italy and Germany; the morning papers had not published it in the early editions. “That will please them in England,” he remarked with a laugh. I agreed with him that it would, although it had long been expected. The mention of England reminded me that he had just returned from the war conference in London, so I asked if he had ever been there before. “Yes,” he replied with a humorous twinkle in his eye, “forty years ago; but I do not remember much of it; although my father was ambassador to England I only lived with him in London for a short while. It is, of course, much changed since then.” Whilst thus chatting I was working with feverish haste at my sketch. I now noticed he was getting a bit impatient at keeping the same position, so I suggested a few moments rest. He came over to see how I had got on, and asked if he might look through my sketch book. It happened to be the one I had used at Gorizia, and the sketches I had made that day pleased him very much. “You were fortunate, you were able to see something; I never see anything,” he remarked quite pathetically.