’Now, gentlemen, it is time for you to retire, for I have a duty to perform which is a strictly personal one—­the duty of dying.’  On saying these words he galloped to the front and placed himself at about twenty paces from a battalion of Austrian sharp-shooters which were ascending the hill.  In less than five minutes his horse was killed under him, and he was wounded in the right hand.  I scarcely need add that his aides-de-camp did not flinch from sharing Durando’s fate.  They bravely followed their general, and one, the Marquis Corbetta, was wounded in the leg; the other, Count Esengrini, had his horse shot under him.  I called on Durando, who is now at Milan, the day before yesterday.  Though a stranger to him, he received me at once, and, speaking of the action of the 24th, he only said:  ’I have the satisfaction of having done my duty.  I wait tranquilly the judgement of history.’

Assuming, for argument’s sake, that General Cerale misunderstood the orders he had received, and that, by precipitating his movement, he dragged into the same mistake the whole of Durando’s corps—­assuming, I say, this to be the right version, you can easily explain the fact that neither of the two contending parties are as yet in a position clearly to describe the action of the 24th.  Why did neither the one nor the other display and bring into action the whole forces they could have had at their disposal?  Why so many partial engagements at a great distance one from the other?  In a word, why that want of unity, which, in my opinion, constituted the paramount characteristic of that bloody struggle?  I may be greatly mistaken, but I am of opinion that neither the Italian general-in-chief nor the Austrian Archduke entertained on the night of the 23rd the idea of delivering a battle on the 24th.  There, and only there, lies the whole mystery of the affair.  The total want of unity of action on the part of the Italians assured to the Austrians, not the victory, but the chance of rendering impossible Lamarmora’s attempt to break through the quadrilateral.  This no one can deny; but, on the other hand, if the Italian army failed in attaining its object, the failure-owing to the bravery displayed both by the soldiers and by the generals-was far from being a disastrous or irreparable one.  The Italians fought from three o’clock in the morning until nine in the evening like lions, showing to their enemies and to Europe that they know how to defend their country, and that they are worthy of the noble enterprise they have undertaken.

But let me now register one of the striking episodes of that memorable day.  It was five o’clock p.m. when General Bixio, whose division held an elevated position not far from Villafranca, was attacked by three strong Austrian brigades, which had debouched at the same time from three different roads, supported with numerous artillery.  An officer of the Austrian staff, waving a white handkerchief, was seen galloping