"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."
"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.".
"The same as that of his father, whom he succeeded."
"Certainly; with us, executioners have that title."
"Really?" said I. "With us it is just the contrary; surgeons are called executioners."
"You will find him, moreover," added Mr. G----, "a very distinguished young man, who, although he was very young at that time, has retained a vivid recollection of that event. As for his poor father, I think he would as willingly have cut off his own right hand as have executed Sand; but if he had refused, someone else would have been found. So he had to do what he was ordered to do, and he did his best."
I thanked Mr. G----, fully resolving to make use of his letter, and we left for Heidelberg, where we arrived at eleven in the evening.
My first visit next day was to Dr. Widernann. It was not without some emotion, which, moreover, I saw reflected upon, the faces of my travelling companions, that I rang at the door of the last judge, as the Germans call him. An old woman opened the door to us, and ushered us into a pretty little study, on the left of a passage and at the foot of a staircase, where we waited while Mr. Widemann finished dressing. This little room was full of curiosities, madrepores, shells, stuffed birds, and dried plants; a double-barrelled gun, a powder-flask, and a game-bag showed that Mr. Widemann was a hunter.