previously seen in him. Up to that time he had continued to work as
usual, not relaxing for an instant; for there was a possibility that
Kotzebue might die or be killed by somebody else before the term that
Sand had fixed to himself, and in that case he did not wish to have lost
time. On the 7th of March he invited all his friends to spend the
evening with him, and announced his departure for the next day but one,
the 9th. All of them then proposed to him to escort him for some
leagues, but Sand refused; he feared lest this demonstration, innocent
though it were, might compromise them later on. He set forth alone,
therefore, after having hired his lodgings for another half-year, in
order to obviate any suspicion, and went by way of Erfurt and Eisenach,
in order to visit the Wartburg. From that place he went to Frankfort,
where he slept on the 17th, and on the morrow he continued his journey by
way of Darmstadt. At last, on the 23rd, at nine in the morning, he
arrived at the top of the little hill where we found him at the beginning
of this narrative. Throughout the journey he had been the amiable and
happy young man whom no one could see without liking.

Having reached Mannheim, he took a room at the Weinberg, and wrote his
name as "Henry" in the visitors' list. He immediately inquired where
Kotzebue lived. The councillor dwelt near the church of the Jesuits; his
house was at the corner of a street, and though Sand's informants could
not tell him exactly the letter, they assured him it was not possible to
mistake the house. [At Mannheim houses are marked by letters, not by
numbers.]

Sand went at once to Kotzebue's house: it was about ten o'clock; he was
told that the councillor went to walk for an hour or two every morning in
the park of Mannheim. Sand inquired about the path in which he generally
walked, and about the clothes he wore, for never having seen him he could