"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.

After a moment we heard his footstep, and the door opened. Mr. Widemann
was a very handsome young man, of thirty or thirty-two, with black
whiskers entirely surrounding his manly and expressive face; his morning
dress showed a certain rural elegance. He seemed at first not only
embarrassed but pained by our visit. The aimless curiosity of which he
seemed to be the object was indeed odd. I hastened to give him Mr.
G----'s letter and to tell him what reason brought me. Then he gradually