for Pauline. At length, one dismal November evening, whilst wandering home in his usual heavily drugged condition, he hears a woman singing in one of the by-streets. She is singing a well-known convent chant, the "Guardian Angel":
"Viens sur ton aile, Ange fidèle
Prendre mon cœur!
C'est le plus ardent de mes vœux;—
Près de Marie
Place-moi bientôt dans les cieux!
O guide aimable, sois favorable
A mon désir
Et viens finir
Ma triste vie
Avec Marie!"
It is Pauline at last! Then the absinthe tells its tale, and Beauvais completes his scheme of vengeance. With cold-blooded ferocity he confesses that he has slain her lover, whereupon the desolate girl, the hopes she had fostered of meeting Silvion again being forever shattered, buries her woes in the dark bosom of the river of sighs.
Beauvais haunts the Morgue for two days, and his patience is rewarded. Here is a piece of description which, in its way, is perfect:
"An afternoon came when I saw the stretcher
carried in from the river's bank with more than
