If proof positive were wanted to identify the dead body, here was such proof found.
"What do you think was written on the bit of paper ?" continued the Capuchin "We read and shudder.

This dead man has been killed in a duel--he, the desperate, the miserable, has died in the commission of mortal sin; and the men who saw the killing of him ask us Capuchins, holy men, servants of Heaven, children of our lord the Pope--they ask _us_ to give him burial! Oh! but we are outraged when we read that; we groan, we wring our hands, we turn away, we tear our beards, we--" "Wait one moment," said I, seeing that the old man was heating himself with his narrative, and was likely, unless I stopped him, to talk more and more fluently to less and less purpose--"wait a moment.

Have you preserved the paper that was pinned to the dead man's coat; and can I look at it ?" The Capuchin seemed on the point of giving me an answer, when he suddenly checked himself.

I saw his eyes wander away from my face, and at the same moment heard a door softly opened and closed again behind me.
Looking round immediately, I observed another monk in the sacristy--a tall, lean, black-bearded man, in whose presence my old friend with the snuff-box suddenly became quite decorous and devotional to look at.

I suspected I was in the presence of the father superior, and I found that I was right the moment he addressed me.
"I am the father superior of this convent," he said, in quiet, clear tones, and looking me straight in the face while he spoke, with coldly attentive eyes.