Stop where you are!" "Not so loud, my dear Miss Roussillon; I am not deaf.

And besides the garrison needs to sleep." "Stop, sir; not another step." She poised herself, leaning slightly backward, and held the iron ball in her right hand ready to throw it at him.
He halted, still smiling villainously.
"Mademoiselle, I assure you that your excitement is quite unnecessary.
I am not here to harm you." "You cannot harm me, you cowardly wretch!" "Humph! Pride goes before a fall, wench," he retorted, taking a half-step backward.

Then a thought arose in his mind which added a new shade to the repellent darkness of his countenance.
"Miss Roussillon," he said in English and with a changed voice, which seemed to grow harder, each word deliberately emphasized, "I have come to break some bad news to you." "You would scarcely bring me good news, sir, and I am not curious to hear the bad." He was silent for a little while, gazing at her with the sort of admiration from which a true woman draws away appalled.

He saw how she loathed him, saw how impossible it was for him to get a line nearer to her by any turn of force or fortune.

Brave, high-headed, strong as a young leopard, pure and sweet as a rose, she stood before him fearless, even aggressive, showing him by every line of her face and form that she felt her infinite superiority and meant to maintain it.