After the departure of this last visitor, Sand sent for Mr. G----, the
governor of the prison, and told him that he should like to talk to the
executioner before the execution, since he wished to ask for instructions
as to how he should hold himself so as to render the operation most
certain and easy. Mr. G----made some objections, but Sand insisted with
his usual gentleness, and Mr. G----at last promised that the man in
question should be asked to call at the prison as soon as he arrived from
Heidelberg, where he lived.

The rest of the day was spent in seeing more visitors and in
philosophical and moral talks, in which Sand developed his social and
religious theories with a lucidity of expression and an elevation of
thought such as he had, perhaps, never before shown. The governor of the
prison from whom I heard these details, told me that he should all his
life regret that he did not know shorthand, so that he might have noted
all these thoughts, which would have formed a pendant to the Phaedo.

Night came. Sand spent part of the evening writing; it is thought that
he was composing a poem; but no doubt he burned it, for no trace of it
was found. At eleven he went to bed, and slept until six in the morning.
Next day he bore the dressing of his wound, which was always very
painful, with extraordinary courage, without fainting, as he sometimes
did, and without suffering a single complaint to escape him: he had
spoken the truth; in the presence of death God gave him the grace of
allowing his strength to return. The operation was over; Sand was lying
down as usual, and Mr. G----was sitting on the foot of his bed, when the
door opened and a man came in and bowed to Sand and to Mr. G----. The
governor of the prison immediately stood up, and said to Sand in a voice
the emotion of which he could not conceal, "The person who is bowing to
you is Mr. Widemann of Heidelberg, to whom you wished to speak."