He was going to crush his face at one blow.
Therese restrained a cry.

She went a shade paler than before, closed her eyes and turned her head away as if to avoid being bespattered with blood.
Laurent, for a few seconds, remained with his heel in the air, above the face of the slumbering Camille.

Then slowly, straightening his leg, he moved a few paces away.

He reflected that this would be a form of murder such as an idiot would choose.

This pounded head would have set all the police on him.