s bank with more than usual pity and reverence � and i pressing in with the rest of the morbid spectators saw the fair soft white body of the woman i had loved and hated and and driven to her death laid out on the dull hard of stone like a beautiful figure of frozen snow the river had used her tenderly � poor little � it had her gently and had not her delicate limbs or spoilt her pretty face � she looked so wise so sweet and calm that i fancied the cold and muddy must have warmed and brightened to the touch of her drowned beauty yes � the river had her � had her cheeks and left them pale and pure � had kissed her lips and closed them in a happy smile � had swept all her dark hair back from the smooth white brow just to show how prettily the blue veins were under the soft transparent skin � had closed the gentle eyes and pointed the long dark lashes in a downward sleepy fringe � and had made of one little dead girl so wondrous and piteous a picture that otherwise hard hearted women sobbed at sight of it and strong men turned away with hushed footsteps and eyes the very officials at the were � they stood apart and looked on solemnly � one of them raised the tiny white hand and examined a ring on the finger a not in gold and seemed about to draw it off but on second thoughts left it where it was i knew that ring well � had given it to her � it was a for which she had always had a sentimental fondness such as girls often indulge in for perfectly worthless i stared and stared � i on every detail of that delicate half form � and m brain was steady enough to remind me that now � now it was my duty to identify the poor little corpse without a moment s delay so that it might be borne reverently to the care of the de and st then it would receive proper and honourable � and like shakespeare s would have her maiden and the bringing home of bell and burial but no � i put away the suggestion as soon as it occurred to me i took a peculiar delight in thinking that if her body were not identified within the proper interval she too like her lover would be cast into the general ditch of death without a name without a right to memory my and intelligence found a vivid pleasure in the contemplation of such petty and unnecessary cruelty � it seemed good to me to spite upon the dead � and as i have already told you the brain of a confirmed the most ideas as both beautiful and just if you doubt what i say make inquiries at any of the large lunatic in france � ask to be told some of the of who form the largest of brains gone wrong � and you will hear enough to form material for a hundred worse histories than mine what can you expect from a man who has poisoned his blood and killed his conscience you may talk of the soul as you but the soul can only make itself manifest in this life through the senses � and if the senses are and how can the messages of the spirit be otherwise than and also and so yielding to the devilish working within me i held my peace and gave no sign as to the identity of � but i went to the so frequently nearly every hour in fact and stared so long and persistently at her dead body that my conduct at last attracted some attention from the authorities in charge one evening the third i think after she had been laid there an official tapped me on the arm pardon seems to know the corpse i looked at him angrily and though there were a few people standing us i gave him the lie direct you mistake i know nothing he eyed me with suspicion and you seem to take a strange interest in the sight of the poor creature all the same well what of that i retorted the girl dead is beautiful i am an artist � i have the soul of and i laughed beauty � and i study it wherever i find it dead or living � is that so strange but certainly no not at all said the his shoulders and still looking at me only there is just this one little thing that i would say if we could obtain any idea however slight � any small clue which we might follow up as to the proper of this so we should be glad she was a lady of gentle birth and breeding � we have no doubt of that � but the linen she wore was � we can find no name anywhere except one contained in a she wore my nerves shook and i controlled myself with what sort of i asked oh a mere trifle � of no value whatever we opened it of course � it had nothing inside but a withered rose leaf and a small slip of paper on which was written one word that may be the name of a place or a person � we do not know it does not help us no � it did not help them � but it helped me i � helped me to keep my rage more firmly fixed upon that helpless smiling looking thing that lay before me in such solemn and chilly a withered rose leaf and the name of that accursed priest � these were her sole treasures were they � all she cared to save from the of her brief summer time i well well women are 