in turn looked at
Villefort. The whole assembly manifested great surprise, 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 few days, 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 you born?" continued the president.

"At Auteuil, near Paris." M. de Villefort a second time raised his head,
looked at Benedetto as if he had been gazing at the head of Medusa, and
became livid. As for Benedetto, he gracefully wiped his lips with a fine
cambric pocket-handkerchief. "Your profession?"

"First I was a forger," answered Andrea, as calmly as possible; "then I
became a thief, and lately have become an assassin." A murmur, or rather
storm, of indignation burst from all parts of the assembly. The judges
themselves appeared to be stupefied, and the jury manifested tokens of
disgust for cynicism so unexpected in a man of fashion. M. de Villefort
pressed his hand upon his brow, which, at first pale, had become red and
burning; then he suddenly arose and looked around as though he had lost
his senses--he wanted air.

"Are you looking for anything, Mr. Procureur?" asked Benedetto, with his
most ingratiating smile. M. de Villefort answered nothing, but sat, or
rather threw himself down again upon his chair. "And now, prisoner,
will you consent to tell your name?" said the president. "The brutal
affectation with which you have enumerated and classified your crimes
calls for a severe reprimand on the part of the court, both in the name
of morality, and for the respect due to humanity. You appear to consider
this a point of honor, and it may be for this reason, that you have
delayed acknowledging your name. You wished it to be preceded by all
these titles."

"It is quite wonderful, Mr. President, how entirely you have read my
thoughts," said Benedetto, in his softest voice and most polite manner.
"This is, indeed, the reason why I begged you to alter the order of the
questions." The public astonishment had reached its height. There was no
longer any deceit or bravado in the manner of the accused. The audience
felt that a startling revelation was to follow this ominous prelude.

"Well," s