seeing, did not venture to come forward, Sand
said to him, "Come along and show me your sword; I have never seen one of
the kind, and am curious to know what it is like."

Mr. Widemann, pale and trembling, presented the weapon to him; Sand
examined it attentively, and tried the edge with his finger.

"Come," said he, "the blade is good; do not tremble, and all will go
well." Then, turning to Mr. G----, who was weeping, he said to him, "You
will be good enough, will you not, to do me the service of leading me to
the scaffold?"

Mr. G----made a sign of assent with his head, for he could not answer.
Sand took his arm, and spoke for the third time, saying once more, "Well,
what are you waiting for, gentlemen? I am ready."

When they reached the courtyard, Sand saw all the prisoners weeping at
their windows. Although he had never seen them, they were old friends of
his; for every time they passed his door, knowing that the student who
had killed Kotzebue lay within, they used to lift their chain, that he
might not be disturbed by the noise.

All Mannheim was in the streets that led to the place of execution, and
many patrols were passing up and down. On the day when the sentence was
announced the whole town had been sought through for a chaise in which to
convey Sand to the scaffold, but no one, not even the coach-builders,
would either let one out or sell one; and it had been necessary,
therefore, to buy one at Heidelberg without saying for what purpose.

Sand found this chaise in the courtyard, and got into it with Mr. G----.
Turning to him, he whispered in his ear, "Sir, if you see me turn pale,
speak my name to me, my name only, do you hear? That will be enough."

The prison gate was opened, and Sand was seen; then every voice cried
with one impulse, "Farewell, Sand, farewell!"

And at the same time flowers, some of which fell into the carriage, were
thrown by the crowd that thronged the street, and from the windows. At
these friendly cries and at this spectacle, Sand, who until then had
shown no moment of weakness, felt tears rising in spite of himself, and
while he returned the greetings made to him on all sides, he murmured in
a low voice, "O my God, give me courage!"

This first outburst over, the procession set out amid deep silence; only
now and again same single voice would call out, "Farewell, Sand!" and a
handkerchief waved by some hand that rose out of the crowd would show
from what paint the las