The judges took their places in the midst of the mostprofound silence; the jury took their seats; M. deVillefort, the object of unusual attention, and we hadalmost said of general admiration, sat in the arm-chair andcast a tranquil glance around him. Every one looked withastonishment on that grave and severe face, whose calmexpression personal griefs had been unable to disturb, andthe aspect of a man who was a stranger to all human emotionsexcited something very like terror.

"Gendarmes," said the president, "lead in the accused."

At these words the public attention became more intense, andall eyes were turned towards the door through whichBenedetto was to enter. The door soon opened and the accusedappeared. The same impression was experienced by allpresent, and no one was deceived by the expression of hiscountenance. His features bore no sign of that deep emotionwhich stops the beating of the heart and blanches the cheek.His hands, gracefully placed, one upon his hat, the other inthe opening of his white waistcoat, were not at alltremulous; his eye was calm and even brilliant. Scarcely hadhe entered the hall when he glanced at the whole body ofmagistrates and assistants; his eye rested longer on thepresident, and still more so on the king's attorney. By theside of Andrea was stationed the lawyer who was to conducthis defence, and who had been appointed by the court, forAndrea disdained to pay any attention to those details, towhich he appeared to attach no importance. The lawyer was ayoung man with light hair whose face expressed a hundredtimes more emotion than that which characterized theprisoner.

The president called for the indictment, revised as we know,by the clever and implacable pen of Villefort. During thereading of this, which was long, the public attention wascontinually drawn towards Andrea, who bore the inspectionwith Spartan unconcern. Villefort had never been so conciseand eloquent. The crime was depicted in the most vividcolors; the former life of the prisoner, his transformation,a review of his life from the earliest period, were setforth with all the talent that a knowledge of human lifecould furnish to a mind like that of the procureur.Benedetto was thus forever condemned in public opinionbefore the sentence of the law could be pronounced. Andreapaid no attention to the successive charges which werebrought against him. M. de Villefort, who examined himattentively, and who no doubt practiced upon him all thepsychological studies he was accustomed to use, in vainendeavored to make him lower his eyes, notwithstanding thedepth and profundity of his gaze. At length the reading ofthe indictment was ended.

"Accused," said the president, "your name and surname?"Andrea arose. "Excuse me, Mr. President," he said, in aclear voice, "but I see you are going to adopt a course ofquestions through which I cannot follow you. I have an idea,which I will explain by and by, of making an exception tothe usual form of accusation. Allow me, then, if you please,to answer in different order, or I will not do so at all."The astonished president looked at the jury, who in turnlooked at Villefort. The whole assembly manifested greatsurprise, but Andrea appeared quite unmoved. "Your age?"said the president; "will you answer that question?"

"I will answer that question, as well as the rest, Mr.President, but in its turn."

"Your age?" repeated the president.

"I am twenty-one years old, or rather I shall be in a fewdays, as I was born the night of the 27th of September,1817." M. de Villefort, who was busy taking down some notes,raised his head at the mention of this date. "Where were youborn?" continued the president.

"At Auteuil, near Paris." M. de Villefort a second timeraised his head, looked at Benedetto as if he had beengazing at the head of Medusa, and became livid. As forBenedetto, he gracefully wiped his lips with a fine cambricpocket-handkerchief. "Your profession?"

"First I was a forger," answered Andrea, as calmly aspossible; "then I became a thief, and lately have become anassassin." A murmur, or rather storm, of indignation burstfrom all parts of the assembly. The judges themselvesappeared to be stupefied, and the jury manifested tokens ofdisgust for cynicism so unexpected in a man of fashion. M.de Villefort pressed his hand upon his brow, which, at firstpale, had become red and burning; then he suddenly arose andlooked around as though he had lost his senses - he wantedair.

"Are you looking for anything, Mr. Procureur?" askedBenedetto, with his most ingratiating smile. M. de Villefortanswered nothing, but sat, or rather threw himself downagain upon his chair. "And now, prisoner, will you consentto tell your name?" said the president. "The brutalaffectation with which you have enumerated and classifiedyour crimes calls for a severe reprimand on the part of thecourt, both in the name of morality, and for the respect dueto humanity. You appear to consider this a point of honor,and it may be for this reason, that you have delayedacknowledging your name. You wished it to be preceded by allthese titles."

"It is quite wonderful, Mr. President, how entirely you haveread my thoughts," said Benedetto, in his softest voice andmost polite manner. "This is, indeed, the reason why Ibegged you to alter the order of the questions." The publicastonishment had reached its height. There was no longer anydeceit or bravado in the manner of the accused. The audiencefelt that a startling revelation was to follow this ominousprelude.

"Well," said the president; "your name?"

"I cannot tell you my name, since I do not know it; but Iknow my father's, and can tell it to you."

A painful giddiness overwhelmed Villefort; great drops ofacrid sweat fell from his face upon the papers which he heldin his convulsed hand.

"Repeat your father's name," said the president. Not awhisper, not a breath, was heard in that vast assembly;every one waited anxiously.

"My father is king's attorney," replied Andrea calmly.

"King's attorney?" said the president, stupefied, andwithout noticing the agitation which spread over the face ofM. de Villefort; "king's attorney?"

"Yes; and if you wish to know his name, I will tell it, - he is named Villefort." The explosion, which had been solong restrained from a feeling of respect to the court ofjustice, now burst forth like thunder from the breasts ofall present; the court itself did not seek to restrain thefeelings of the audience. The exclamations, the insultsaddressed to Benedetto, who remained perfectly unconcerned,the energetic gestures, the movement of the gendarmes, thesneers of the scum of the crowd always sure to rise to thesurface in case of any disturbance - all this lasted fiveminutes, before the door-keepers and magistrates were ableto restore silence. In the midst of this tumult the voice ofthe president was heard to exclaim, - "Are you playing withjustice, accused, and do you dare set your fellow-citizensan example of disorder which even in these times his neverbeen equalled?"

Several persons hurried up to M. de Villefort, who sat halfbowed over in his chair, offering him consolation,encouragement, and protestations of zeal and sympathy. Orderwas re-established in the hall, except that a few peoplestill moved about and whispered to one another. A lady, itwas said, had just fainted; they had supplied her with asmelling-bottle, and she had recovered. During the scene oftumult, Andrea had turned his smiling face towards theassembly; then, leaning with one hand on the oaken rail ofthe dock, in the most graceful attitude possible, he said:"Gentlemen, I assure you I had no idea of insulting thecourt, or of making a useless disturbance in the presence ofthis honorable assembly. They ask my age; I tell it. Theyask where I was born; I answer. They ask my name, I cannotgive it, since my parents abandoned me. But though I cannotgive my own name, not possessing one, I can tell them myfather's. Now I repeat, my father is named M. de Villefort,and I am ready to prove it."

There was an energy, a conviction, and a sincerity in themanner of the young man, which silenced the tumult. All eyeswere turned for a moment towards the procureur, who sat asmotionless as though a thunderbolt had changed him into acorpse. "Gentlemen," said Andrea, commanding silence by hisvoice and manner; "I owe you the proofs and explanations ofwhat I have said."

"But," said the irritated president, "you called yourselfBenedetto, declared yourself an orphan, and claimed Corsicaas your country."

"I said anything I pleased, in order that the solemndeclaration I have just made should not be withheld, whichotherwise would certainly have been the case. I now repeatthat I was born at Auteuil on the night of the 27th ofSeptember, 1817, and that I am the son of the procureur, M.de Villefort. Do you wish for any further details? I willgive them. I was born in No. 28, Rue de la Fontaine, in aroom hung with red damask; my father took me in his arms,telling my mother I was dead, wrapped me in a napkin markedwith an H and an N, and carried me into a garden, where heburied me alive."

A shudder ran through the assembly when they saw that theconfidence of the prisoner increased in proportion to theterror of M. de Villefort. "But how have you becomeacquainted with all these details?" asked the president.

"I will tell you, Mr. President. A man who had swornvengeance against my father, and had long watched hisopportunity to kill him, had introduced himself that nightinto the garden in which my father buried me. He wasconcealed in a thicket; he saw my father bury something inthe ground, and stabbed him; then thinking the deposit mightcontain some treasure he turned up the ground, and found mestill living. The man carried me to the foundling asylum,where I was registered under the number 37. Three monthsafterwards, a woman travelled from Rogliano to Paris tofetch me, and having claimed me as her son, carried me away.Thus, you see, though born in Paris, I was brought up inCorsica."

There was a moment's silence, during which one could havefancied the hall empty, so profound was the stillness."Proceed," said the president.

"Certainly, I might have lived happily amongst those goodpeople, who adored me, but my perverse disposition prevailedover the virtues which my adopted mother endeavored toinstil into my heart. I increased in wickedness till Icommitted crime. One day when I cursed providence for makingme so wicked, and ordaining me to such a fate, my adoptedfather said to me, `Do not blaspheme, unhappy child, thecrime is that of your father, not yours, - of your father,who consigned you to hell if you died, and to misery if amiracle preserved you alive.' After that I ceased toblaspheme, but I cursed my father. That is why I haveuttered the words for which you blame me; that is why I havefilled this whole assembly with horror. If I have committedan additional crime, punish me, but if you will allow thatever since the day of my birth my fate has been sad, bitter,and lamentable, then pity me."

"But your mother?" asked the president.

"My mother thought me dead; she is not guilty. I did noteven wish to know her name, nor do I know it." Just then apiercing cry, ending in a sob, burst from the centre of thecrowd, who encircled the lady who had before fainted, andwho now fell into a violent fit of hysterics. She wascarried out of the hall, the thick veil which concealed herface dropped off, and Madame Danglars was recognized.Notwithstanding his shattered nerves, the ringing sensationin his ears, and the madness which turned his brain,Villefort rose as he perceived her. "The proofs, theproofs!" said the president; "remember this tissue ofhorrors must be supported by the clearest proofs "

"The proofs?" said Benedetto, laughing; "do you wantproofs?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, look at M. de Villefort, and then ask me forproofs."

Every one turned towards the procureur, who, unable to bearthe universal gaze now riveted on him alone, advancedstaggering into the midst of the tribunal, with his hairdishevelled and his face indented with the mark of hisnails. The whole assembly uttered a long murmur ofastonishment. "Father," said Benedetto, "I am asked forproofs, do you wish me to give them?"

"No, no, it is useless," stammered M. de Villefort in ahoarse voice; "no, it is useless!"

"How useless?" cried the president, "what do you mean?"

"I mean that I feel it impossible to struggle against thisdeadly weight which crushes me. Gentlemen, I know I am inthe hands of an avenging God! We need no proofs; everythingrelating to this young man is true." A dull, gloomy silence,like that which precedes some awful phenomenon of nature,pervaded the assembly, who shuddered in dismay. "What, M. deVillefort," cried the president, "do you yield to anhallucination? What, are you no longer in possession of yoursenses? This strange, unexpected, terrible accusation hasdisordered your reason. Come, recover."

The procureur dropped his head; his teeth chattered likethose of a man under a violent attack of fever, and yet hewas deadly pale.

"I am in possession of all my senses, sir," he said; "mybody alone suffers, as you may suppose. I acknowledge myselfguilty of all the young man has brought against me, and fromthis hour hold myself under the authority of the procureurwho will succeed me."

And as he spoke these words with a hoarse, choking voice, hestaggered towards the door, which was mechanically opened bya door-keeper. The whole assembly were dumb withastonishment at the revelation and confession which hadproduced a catastrophe so different from that which had beenexpected during the last fortnight by the Parisian world.

"Well," said Beauchamp, "let them now say that drama isunnatural!"

"Ma foi!" said Chateau-Renaud, "I would rather end my careerlike M. de Morcerf; a pistol-shot seems quite delightfulcompared with this catastrophe."

"And moreover, it kills," said Beauchamp.

"And to think that I had an idea of marrying his daughter,"said Debray. "She did well to die, poor girl!"

"The sitting is adjourned, gentlemen," said the president;"fresh inquiries will be made, and the case will be triednext session by another magistrate." As for Andrea, who wascalm and more interesting than ever, he left the hall,escorted by gendarmes, who involuntarily paid him someattention. "Well, what do you think of this, my finefellow?" asked Debray of the sergeant-at-arms, slipping alouis into his hand. "There will be extenuatingcircumstances," he replied.