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第30节 起诉书 【
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文章摘要:起诉书 ,规格型号西太后大阳,色带多情多感卑污。

法官在一片肃静中入座,陪审员也纷纷坐下,维尔福先生是大家注意的目标,甚至可以说是大家崇拜的对象,他坐在圈椅里,平静的目光四周环顾一下。每一个人都惊奇地望着那张严肃冷峻的面孔,私人的悲伤并不能从他脸上表现出来,大家看到一个人竟不为人类的喜怒哀乐所动,不禁产生一种恐怖感。

“审判长说,“带被告。”

听到这几个字,大家的注意力更集中了,所有的眼睛都盯在了贝尼代托就要进来的那扇门。门开了,被告随即出现了。在场的人都看清了他脸上的表情,他的脸上没有使人心脏停止跳动或使人脸色苍白的那种激动的情绪。他的两只手位置放得很优美,一只手按着帽子,一只手放在背心的开口处,手指没有丝毫的抖动,他的目光平静,甚至是明亮的。走进法庭以后,目光在法官和陪审人员扫过,然后让他的目光停留在审判长和检察官的身上。安德烈的旁边坐着他的律师,因为安德烈自己并未请律师,他的律师是由法院指定的,他似乎认为这是无关重要的小事,毋须为此请律师。那个律师是一个浅黄色头发的青年,他要比被告激动一百倍。

审判长宣布读起诉书,那份起诉书占用了很长时间,在那个时间,大家的注意力几乎都在安德烈的身上,安德烈以斯巴达人那种不在乎的神气漠视着众人的注意。维尔福的话比任何时候都简洁雄辩。他有声有色地描绘了犯罪的始末:犯人以前的经历,他的变化,从童年起他所犯的罪,这一切,检察官都是竭尽心力才写出来的。单凭这一份起诉书不用等到宣判,大家就认为贝尼代托已经完蛋了。安德烈听着维尔福起诉书中接连提出来的罪名。维尔福先生不时地看他一眼,无疑他在向犯人实施他惯用的心理攻势,但他虽然不时地逼视那被告,却始终都没能使他低头,起诉书终于读完了。

“被告,”审判长说,“你的姓名?”

安德烈站起来。“原谅我,审判长阁下,”他用清晰的声音说,“我看您是采用了普通的审判程序,用那种程序,我将无法遵从。我要求——而且不久就可以证明我的要求是正当的——开一个例外。我恳求您允许我在回答的时候遵从一种不同的程序,愿意回答。你提出的所有问题。

审判长惊奇地看了看陪审官,陪审官则去看检察官。整个法庭因为惊奇而鸦雀无声,但安德烈依旧不动声色。

“你的年龄?”审判长说,“这个问题你肯回答吗?”

“这个问题象其他的问题一样,愿意回答,审判长阁下,但却要到适当的时候才答复。”

“你的年龄?”审判长重复那个问题。

“我二十一岁,说得确切一些,过几天就要满二十一岁了,因为我是在一八一七年九月二十七日晚上生的。”

维尔福先生正在忙于记录,听到这个日期,抬起头来。

“你是在哪儿出生的?”审判长继续问。

“在巴黎附近的阿都尔。”

维尔福先生第二次抬起头来,望着贝尼代托,象是看到了墨杜萨的头似的,他的脸上变得毫无血色。贝尼代托,则用上好的白葛布手帕潇洒地抹一抹他的嘴唇。

“你的职业?”

“最初我制造假币,”安德烈平静地答道,“然后又偷东西,最近我杀了人。”

法庭里爆发出愤怒的骚动声。法官们也呆住了,陪审员现出厌恶的表情,想不到一个体面人物竟会如此厚颜无耻。维尔福先生用手按住额头,他的额头最初发白,然后转红,以至于最后热得烫手。然后他突然起来,神情恍惚地四周环顾,他想透一透气。

“你丢什么东西了吗,检察官阁下?”贝尼代托带着他和蔼可亲的微笑问。维尔福先生并不回答,跌倒在椅子里。

“现在,被告,你肯讲出你的姓名了吗?”审判长说。“你历数自己的罪名时那种残酷神态,你认罪时的那种骄傲,——不论从法律上讲或从道义上讲,法院方面都将对你进行严厉惩罚,这大概就是你延迟宣布你的姓名的原因吧,你是想把你的姓名作为你引以为自豪的高潮。”

“真妙,审判长阁下,我的心思您全看透了,贝尼代托用尽量柔和的声音和最礼貌的态度说。“这的确就是我要求您把审问程序改变一下的原因。”

人们的惊愕已达到了无以复加的地步。被告的态度已不再有欺诈或浮夸的样子。情绪激动的人们预感到必然会从黑暗深处爆发雷声。

“嗯!”审判长说,“你的姓名?”

“我无法把我的姓告诉您,因为我不知道自己姓什么,但我知道我父亲的姓名,我可以把那个姓告诉您。”

一阵痛苦的晕眩使维尔福看不见东西。大滴的汗珠从他的脸上滚落,他颤抖的手抓住稿纸,“那么,说出你父亲的名字来。”审判长说。

偌大的法庭里鸦鹊无声,每一个人都屏息静气地等待着。

“我的父亲是检察官。”安德烈平静地回答。

“检察官?”审判长说,他楞住了,并没有注意到维尔福先生脸上惊慌的神情,“检察官?”

“是的,假如你想知道他的名字,我可以告诉你,——他叫维尔福。”

人们的激动情绪被抑制了这么久,现在象雷鸣似地从每一个人的胸膛里爆发出来了,法官无意去制止众人的骚动。人们对面无表情的贝尼代托喊叫、辱骂、讥诮、舞臂挥拳,法警跑来跑去,——这是每一次骚动时必有的现象,这一切继续了五分钟,法官和宪警才使法庭恢复了肃静。在这阵骚乱中,只听到那审判长喊道:“被告,你要戏弄法庭吗?你要在这世风日下的时代,独创一帜,胆敢在你的同胞面前创立一个藐视法庭的先例?”

有几个人围住那几乎已瘫倒在椅子里的维尔福先生,劝慰他,鼓励他,对他表示关切和同情。法庭里的一切又井然有序,只有一个地方还有一群人在那儿骚动。据说有一位太太昏了过去,他们给她闻了嗅盐,现在已经醒过来了。

在骚动期间,安德烈始终微笑着看大家,然后,他一只手扶着被告席的橡木栏杆,做出个优美的姿势,说:“诸位,上帝是不允许我侮辱法庭并在这可敬的法庭上造成徒然的骚乱的。他们问我的年龄,我说了。他们问我的出生地,我答复了。他们问我的姓名,我讲不出来,因为我的父母遗弃了我。我讲不出我自己的姓名,因为我根本没有姓名,我却知道我父亲的姓名。现在,我再说一遍,我父亲是维尔福先生,我很愿意来证明这一点是正确的。

那个年轻人的态度有让人无法质疑的东西,一种信心和一种真挚骚动平静下来了。立刻,所有的眼睛都盯着检察官,检察官一动不动地坐着,象是一具刚遭雷劈的尸体。

“诸位!”安德烈说,他以他的声音和态度使得全场鸦雀无声,“我对于刚才所说的话,应该向你们出示证据并解释清楚。

“但是,”审判长恼怒地说,“在预审的时候,你自称是贝尼代托,说你自己是一个孤儿,并声称你的原藉是科西嘉。”

“那是我随便说说的,目的是为了使我有机会发布刚才那个事实,不然的话,就一定会有人阻止我。我现在再说一遍,我是在一八一七年九月二十七日晚上在阿都尔降生的,我是检察官维尔福先生的儿子。我可以告诉你们详细的情节。我降生的地点是芳丹街二十八号,在一个挂着红色窗帷的房间里。我的父亲抱起我,对我的母亲说我是已经死了,把我包在一块绣有一个‘H’字和一个‘N’字样的襁褓里,抱我到后花园,在那儿活埋了我。”

法庭里的人不禁都打起寒颤,他们看见那犯人的越说越自信,而维尔福先生却越来越惊惶。

“但你怎么知道这些事的呢?”审判长问。

“让我来告诉您,审判长阁下。有一个人曾发誓要向我的父亲报仇,他早就在寻找杀死他的机会,那天晚上,他偷偷地爬进我父亲埋我的那个花园。躲在树丛后面,他看见我的父亲把一样东西埋在地里,就在这个时候上去刺了他一刀,然后他以为里面藏着宝贝。所以他开地面,却发觉我还活着。那个人把我抱到育婴堂里,在那儿,我被编为五十七号。三个月以后,他的嫂嫂从洛格里亚诺赶到巴黎来,声称我是她的儿了,把我带走了。所以,我虽然生在巴黎,却是在科西嘉长大的。”

法庭里一片静寂,这时,外面的人或许会以为法庭里没有人,因为当时里面没有一点声音。

“说下去!”审判长说。

“当然罗,”贝尼代托继续说,“抚养我的那些人都很爱我,我本来可以和那些人过很快乐的生活,但我那邪恶的本性超过了我继母灌输在我心里的美德。我愈变愈坏,直到犯罪。有一天,当我在诅咒上帝把我造得这样恶劣,给我注定这样一个不幸命运的时候,我的继父对我说:‘不要亵渎神灵,倒霉的孩子!因为上帝在赐你生命的时候并无恶意。罪孽是你父亲造成的,他连累你生遭孽报,死入地狱。’从那以后,我不再诅咒上帝,而是诅咒我的父亲。因为这个我才说了那些让你们遣责的话,为了这,我才使法庭上充满了恐怖。如果这一番话加重了我的罪名,那么请惩罚我;如果你们相信,自从我落地的那天起,我的命运就悲惨、痛苦和伤心,那么请宽恕我。”

“但你的母亲呢?”审判长问道。

“我的母亲以为我死了,她是无罪的。我不知道她的名字。我也不想知道。”

正当那时曾经昏厥过一次的那个贵妇人发出一声尖锐的喊叫,接着是一阵啜泣,那个贵妇人现在陷入一种剧烈的歇斯底里状态了。当他被扶出法庭的时候,遮住她的面孔的那张厚面纱掉了下来,腾格拉尔夫人的真面目露出来了。维尔福虽然精神恍惚,耳聋脑胀,却还是认出了她,他站了起来。

“证据!证据呢!”审判长说,“要记得:这种话是必须要有最清楚的证据来证实的。”

“证据?”贝尼代托大笑着说,“您要证据吗?”

“是的。”

“嗯,那么,先请先看看维尔福先生,然后再来向我要证据。”

每一个人都转过去看检察官,检察官无法忍受那么多人的目光只盯在他一个人身上。他踉踉跄跄地走到法庭中心,头发散乱,脸上布满被指甲抓出的血痕。全场响起一阵持续颇久的低语声。

“父亲,”贝尼代托说,“他们问我要证据。你希望我给他们吗。”

“不,不,”维尔福先生用一种嘶哑的声音结结巴巴地说,“不,不必了!”

“怎么不必呢?”审判长喊道:“你是什么意思?”

“我的意思是:我觉得我无法和这种落到我身上来的致命的重压抗争,诸位。——我是落到一个复仇之神的手里了!无须证据,这个年轻人说的话都是真的。”

全场被一种象预示某种恶劣的自然现象那样阴森凄惨的沉寂弥漫着,大家都惊慌地寒颤着。

“什么!维尔福先生,”审判长喊道,“你难道昏了头吗?什么!你的理智还在吗?你的头脑显然是被一个奇特、可怕、意想不到的污蔑弄糊涂了。来,恢复你的理智吧。”

检察官低下头,他的牙齿象一个大发寒热的人那样格格地打抖,可是他的脸色却象死人一般毫无血色。

“我没有丧失理智,阁下,”他说,“你可以看得出:失常的只是我的肉体。那个年轻人所指控我的罪,我全部承认,从现在起,我悉听下任检察官对我的处置。”

当他用一种嘶哑窒息的声音说完这几句话后,他踉踉跄跄地向门口走去,一个法警机械地打开了那扇门。全场的人都因吃惊而哑口无言,这次开庭审判使半月来轰动巴黎社会的那一连串可怕的事情达到了最高峰。

“噢,”波尚说,“现在谁会说这幕戏演得不自然?”

“噢!”夏多·勒诺说,“我情愿象马尔塞夫先生那样用手枪结束他的生命,那总比这场灾祸来得舒服点。”

“那么他犯了杀人罪了。”波尚说。

“以前我还想娶他的女儿呢!”德布雷说,“幸亏她死了,可怜的姑娘!”

“诸位,审问暂停,”审判长说,“本案延期到下次开庭办理。案情当另委法官重新审查。”

至于安德烈,他仍然很平静,而且比以前更让人感兴趣了,他在法警的护送下离开法庭,法警们也不由自主地对他产生了一些敬意。

“嗯,你觉得这件事情怎么样,我的好汉?”德布雷问那副警长,并把一块金路易塞到他的手里。

“可能酌情减刑。”他回答。  

THE JUDGES took their places in the midst of the most profound silence; the jury took their seats; M. de Villefort, the object of unusual attention, and we had almost said of general admiration, sat in the arm-chair and cast a tranquil glance around him. Every one looked with astonishment on that grave and severe face, whose calm expression personal griefs had been unable to disturb, and the aspect of a man who was a stranger to all human emotions excited something very like terror.

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

At these words the public attention became more intense, and all eyes were turned towards the door through which Benedetto was to enter. The door soon opened and the accused appeared. The same impression was experienced by all present, and no one was deceived by the expression of his countenance. His features bore no sign of that deep emotion which stops the beating of the heart and blanches the cheek. His hands, gracefully placed, one upon his hat, the other in the opening of his white waistcoat, were not at all tremulous; his eye was calm and even brilliant. Scarcely had he entered the hall when he glanced at the whole body of magistrates and assistants; his eye rested longer on the president, and still more so on the king's attorney. By the side of Andrea was stationed the lawyer who was to conduct his defence, and who had been appointed by the court, for Andrea disdained to pay any attention to those details, to which he appeared to attach no importance. The lawyer was a young man with light hair whose face expressed a hundred times more emotion than that which characterized the prisoner.

The president called for the indictment, revised as we know, by the clever and implacable pen of Villefort. During the reading of this, which was long, the public attention was continually drawn towards Andrea, who bore the inspection with Spartan unconcern. Villefort had never been so concise and eloquent. The crime was depicted in the most vivid colors; the former life of the prisoner, his transformation, a review of his life from the earliest period, were set forth with all the talent that a knowledge of human life could furnish to a mind like that of the procureur. Benedetto was thus forever condemned in public opinion before the sentence of the law could be pronounced. Andrea paid no attention to the successive charges which were brought against him. M. de Villefort, who examined him attentively, and who no doubt practiced upon him all the psychological studies he was accustomed to use, in vain endeavored to make him lower his eyes, notwithstanding the depth and profundity of his gaze. At length the reading of the indictment was ended.

"Accused," said the president, "your name and surname?" Andrea arose. "Excuse me, Mr. President," he said, in a clear voice, "but I see you are going to adopt a course of questions through which I cannot follow you. I have an idea, which I will explain by and by, of making an exception to the 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 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," said the president; "your name?"

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

A painful giddiness overwhelmed Villefort; great drops of acrid sweat fell from his face upon the papers which he held in his convulsed hand.

"Repeat your father's name," said the president. Not a whisper, 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, and without noticing the agitation which spread over the face of M. 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 so long restrained from a feeling of respect to the court of justice, now burst forth like thunder from the breasts of all present; the court itself did not seek to restrain the feelings of the audience. The exclamations, the insults addressed to Benedetto, who remained perfectly unconcerned, the energetic gestures, the movement of the gendarmes, the sneers of the scum of the crowd always sure to rise to the surface in case of any disturbance--all this lasted five minutes, before the door-keepers and magistrates were able to restore silence. In the midst of this tumult the voice of the president was heard to exclaim,--"Are you playing with justice, accused, and do you dare set your fellow-citizens an example of disorder which even in these times his never been equalled?"

Several persons hurried up to M. de Villefort, who sat half bowed over in his chair, offering him consolation, encouragement, and protestations of zeal and sympathy. Order was re-established in the hall, except that a few people still moved about and whispered to one another. A lady, it was said, had just fainted; they had supplied her with a smelling-bottle, and she had recovered. During the scene of tumult, Andrea had turned his smiling face towards the assembly; then, leaning with one hand on the oaken rail of the dock, in the most graceful attitude possible, he said: "Gentlemen, I assure you I had no idea of insulting the court, or of making a useless disturbance in the presence of this honorable assembly. They ask my age; I tell it. They ask where I was born; I answer. They ask my name, I cannot give it, since my parents abandoned me. But though I cannot give my own name, not possessing one, I can tell them my father'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 the manner of the young man, which silenced the tumult. All eyes were turned for a moment towards the procureur, who sat as motionless as though a thunderbolt had changed him into a corpse. "Gentlemen," said Andrea, commanding silence by his voice and manner; "I owe you the proofs and explanations of what I have said."

"But," said the irritated president, "you called yourself Benedetto, declared yourself an orphan, and claimed Corsica as your country."

"I said anything I pleased, in order that the solemn declaration I have just made should not be withheld, which otherwise would certainly have been the case. I now repeat that I was born at Auteuil on the night of the 27th of September, 1817, and that I am the son of the procureur, M. de Villefort. Do you wish for any further details? I will give them. I was born in No. 28, Rue de la Fontaine, in a room hung with red damask; my father took me in his arms, telling my mother I was dead, wrapped me in a napkin marked with an H and an N, and carried me into a garden, where he buried me alive."

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

"I will tell you, Mr. President. A man who had sworn vengeance against my father, and had long watched his opportunity to kill him, had introduced himself that night into the garden in which my father buried me. He was concealed in a thicket; he saw my father bury something in the ground, and stabbed him; then thinking the deposit might contain some treasure he turned up the ground, and found me still living. The man carried me to the foundling asylum, where I was registered under the number 37. Three months afterwards, a woman travelled from Rogliano to Paris to fetch me, and having claimed me as her son, carried me away. Thus, you see, though born in Paris, I was brought up in Corsica."

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

"Certainly, I might have lived happily amongst those good people, who adored me, but my perverse disposition prevailed over the virtues which my adopted mother endeavored to instil into my heart. 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," cried the president, "do you yield to an hallucination? What, are you no longer in possession of your senses? This strange, unexpected, terrible accusation has disordered your reason. Come, recover."

The procureur dropped his head; his teeth chattered like those of a man under a violent attack of fever, and yet he was deadly pale.

"I am in possession of all my senses, sir," he said; "my body alone suffers, as you may suppose. I acknowledge myself guilty of all the young man has brought against me, and from this hour hold myself under the authority of the procureur who will succeed me."

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

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

"Ma foi!" said Chateau-Renaud, "I would rather end my career like M. de Morcerf; a pistol-shot seems quite delightful compared 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 tried next session by another magistrate." As for Andrea, who was calm and more interesting than ever, he left the hall, escorted by gendarmes, who involuntarily paid him some attention. "Well, what do you think of this, my fine fellow?" asked Debray of the sergeant-at-arms, slipping a louis into his hand. "There will be extenuating circumstances," he replied.



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