erstand a word that was said,
it was easy for me to see, by the rapidity of the questions and the
length of the answers, that the conversation was most interesting. At
last, at the end of half an hours growing desirous of knowing to what
point they had come, I said, "Well?"

"Well," answered my interpreter, "you are in luck's way, and you could
not have asked a better person."

"The gentleman knew Sand, then?"

"The gentleman is the governor of the prison in which Sand was
confined."

"Indeed?"

"For nine months--that is to say, from the day he left the hospital--
this gentleman saw him every day."

"Excellent!"

"But that is not all: this gentleman was with him in the carriage that
took him to execution; this gentleman was with him on the scaffold;
there's only one portrait of Sand in all Mannheim, and this gentleman
has it."

I was devouring every word; a mental alchemist, I was opening my
crucible and finding gold in it.

"Just ask," I resumed eagerly, "whether the gentleman will allow us to
take down in writing the particulars that he can give me."

My interpreter put another question, then, turning towards me, said,
"Granted."

Mr. G----got into the carriage with us, and instead of going on to
Heidelberg, we returned to Mannheim, and alighted at the prison.

Mr. G---did not once depart from the ready kindness that he had shown.
In the most obliging manner, patient over the minutest trifles, and
remembering most happily, he went over every circumstance, putting
himself at my disposal like a professional guide. At last, when every
particular about Sand had been sucked dry, I began to ask him about the
manner in which executions were performed. "As to that," said he, "I can
offer you an introduction to someone at Heidelberg who can give you all
the information you can wish for upon the subject."

I accepted gratefully, and as I was taking leave of Mr. G----, after
thanking him a thousand times, he handed me the offered letter. It bore
this superscription: "To Herr-doctor Widemann, No. III High Street,
Heidelberg."

I turned to Mr. G----once more.

"Is he, by chance, a relation of the man who executed Sand?" I asked.

"He is his son, and was standing by when the head fell.".

"What is his calling, then?"

"The same as that of his father, whom he succeeded."

"But you call him 'doctor'?"

"Certainly; with us, executioners have that title."

"But, then, doctors of what?"

"Of surgery."

"