I looked at her attentively.

She had a pale face, hair like night, broad strong eyebrows, decided features, and a dark, mutinous, sinister eye: I noted that she sat close by a little door, which door, I was well aware, opened into a small closet where books were kept.

She was standing up for the purpose of conducting her clamour with freer energies.

I measured her stature and calculated her strength She seemed both tall and wiry; but, so the conflict were brief and the attack unexpected, I thought I might manage her.
Advancing up the room, looking as cool and careless as I possibly could, in short, _ayant l'air de rien_, I slightly pushed the door and found it was ajar.

In an instant, and with sharpness, I had turned on her.