There was a glint of cruel satisfaction in his eyes that warned me, before he opened his mouth, what he was going to say to me.
'I could not have made a better catch, M.de Berault,' he said, smiling villainously, while he gently smoothed the fur of a cat that had sprung on the table beside him.

'An old offender, and an excellent example.

I doubt it will not stop with you.

But later, we will make you the warrant for flying at higher game.' 'Monseigneur has handled a sword himself,' I blurted out.

The very room seemed to be growing darker, the air colder.