Every now and then he would make a vigorous attempt to compose his features, but after each rally a fresh wave of terror would sweep everything before it, and set him shaking once more.

As to Toussac, he stood before the fire, a magnificent figure, with the axe held down by his leg, and his head thrown back in defiance, so that his great black beard bristled straight out in front of him.

He said not a word, but every fibre of his body was braced for a struggle.

Then, as the howl of the hound rose louder and clearer from the marsh outside, he ran forward and threw open the door.
'No, no, keep the dog out!' cried Lesage in an agony of apprehension.
'You fool, our only chance is to kill it.' 'But it is in leash.' 'If it is in leash nothing can save us.

But if, as I think, it is running free, then we may escape yet.' Lesage cowered up against the table, with his agonised eyes fixed upon the blue-black square of the door.