"I am speaking the truth," replied the prisoner, "and can prove it. Listen, and then judge. I was born on the first floor of the house No. 28 Rue de la Fontaine, at Auteuil, on the night of the 27th to the 28th of September, 1807. My father, Monsieur de Villefort, told my mother I was dead, wrapped me in a napkin marked H. 15, put me in a small box and buried me alive in the garden of the house. At the same moment he received a thrust in the side with a knife held by a person who was concealed, and he sank to the ground unconscious. The man who attacked my father dug out the box which had been buried, and which he supposed contained money, and thereby saved my life. He brought me to the foundling asylum, where I was inscribed as No. 37. Three months later I was taken from the asylum by the sister-in-law of the man, who was a Corsican, and brought me to Corsica, where I was brought up, and in spite of the care of my foster-parents acquired vices which steeped me in crime."
"And who was your mother?" asked the judge.
"My mother thought I was dead; I am a child of sin; I do not know my mother and do not wish to know her."
A cry rang through the court-room at this point; a lady had fainted, and was carried out of the hall by several bystanders.
At this cry the procureur du roi arose, and showed his ghastly face to the crowd.
"How are you going to prove these astounding revelations?" asked the judge of the prisoner.
With a malicious look the latter pointed to Monsieur de Villefort.
"Father, they wish to have proofs; do you also want me to give them?"