art. I increased in
wickedness till I committed crime. One day when I cursed Providence for
making me so wicked, and ordaining me to such a fate, my adopted father
said to me, 'Do not blaspheme, unhappy child, the crime is that of your
father, not yours,--of your father, who consigned you to hell if you
died, and to misery if a miracle preserved you alive.' After that I
ceased to blaspheme, but I cursed my father. That is why I have uttered
the words for which you blame me; that is why I have filled this whole
assembly with horror. If I have committed an additional crime, punish
me, but if you will allow that ever 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 not even wish to
know her name, nor do I know it." Just then a piercing cry, ending in a
sob, burst from the centre of the crowd, who encircled the lady who had
before fainted, and who now fell into a violent fit of hysterics. She
was carried out of the hall, the thick veil which concealed her face
dropped off, and Madame Danglars was recognized. Notwithstanding his
shattered nerves, the ringing sensation in his ears, and the madness
which turned his brain, Villefort rose as he perceived her. "The proofs,
the proofs!" said the president; "remember this tissue of horrors must
be supported by the clearest proofs."

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

"Yes."

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

Every one turned towards the procureur, who, unable to bear the
universal gaze now riveted on him alone, advanced staggering into the
midst of the tribunal, with his hair dishevelled and his face indented
with the mark of his nails. The whole assembly uttered a long murmur of
astonishment. "Father," said Benedetto, "I am asked for proofs, do you
wish me to give them?"

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

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

"I mean that I feel it impossible to struggle against this deadly weight
which crushes me. Gentlemen, I know I am in the hands of an avenging
God! We need no proofs; everything relating 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.
de Villefort,