Paris, Thursday, April 28, 1859.

I received your letter last night. You will stop at ——, I imagine. It would be folly on your part to attempt to go farther. I shall not repeat what you already know of the sympathy I feel for your anxieties. When one is the sister of a soldier, one must become accustomed to the sound of cannon. Since last night, moreover, the signs of peace are brighter than they were several days ago. It appears, even, that there is a probability of the acceptance by Austria of the proffered arbitration by England, and also by France. Nevertheless, many troops are departing, and two regiments have already landed at Genoa, beneath a deluge of flowers. I believe there will be war, but it will not continue long, and I hope that after the first conflict all Europe will interpose between the belligerent parties.

Austria, moreover, for lack of means, would be unable to maintain a long struggle, and it is thought by many persons that the principal object of her rash act is to offer a pretext for pleading bankruptcy. It seems to me that the feeling here is better than it was. The people are bellicose and over-confident, the soldiers in high spirits and full of assurance. The Zouaves departed, after being away from their barracks and sleeping under the stars for a week, saying that in time of war there was no such thing as home comforts. On the day of their departure not a man was missing.

There is in our army a gaiety and ardour absolutely lacking among the Austrians. Although scarcely optimistic, I have firm confidence in our success. Our former reputation is so well and widely established, that those who fight against us do so with faint hearts. Do not use your imagination in creating tragic possibilities; remember that very few bullets strike, and that the war in which we are to engage will prove tremendously interesting to your brother. Do not intimate to your sister-in-law that the fascinating Italian ladies will throw themselves at the heads of our soldiers. You may rest assured that they will be petted, and will be fed on macaroni stupendi, while the Austrian soldiers are likely to find verdigris sometimes in their soup. If I were your brother’s age, a campaign in Italy would give me the agreeable opportunity of observing one of the most splendid spectacles, the awakening of an oppressed people.

Good-bye, dear friend. Let me hear from you promptly, and keep me informed of your plans.