He deserves death, but vengeance is not mine.

I will disarm him." Step by step he retreated, playing erratically to make an opening for a trick he meant to use.
It was singularly loose play, a sort of wavering, shifty, incomprehensible show of carelessness, that caused Hamilton to entertain a doubt, which was really a fear, as to what was going to happen; for, notwithstanding all this neglect of due precaution on the priest's part, to touch him seemed impossible, miraculously so, and every plan of attack dissolved into futility in the most maddening way.
"Priest, devil or ghost!" raged Hamilton, with a froth gathering around his mouth; "I'll kill you, or--" He made a longe, when his adversary left an opening which appeared absolutely beyond defence.

It was a quick, dextrous, vicious thrust.
The blade leaped toward Father Beret's heart with a twinkle like lightning.
At that moment, although warily alert and hopeful that his opportunity was at hand, Father Beret came near losing his life; for as he side-stepped and easily parried Hamilton's thrust, which he had invited, thinking to entangle his blade and disarm him, he caught his foot in Alice's skirt and stumbled, nearly falling across her.

It would have been easy for Hamilton to run him through, had he instantly followed up the advantage.

But the moonlight on Alice's face struck his eyes, and by that indirect ray of vision which is often strangely effective, he recognized her lying there.