"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.