Then, leaning on the cage of the watch-light that jutted out from the front of the platform, set myself to look over all the line of the sky and sea.
But my eye was no sooner applied to the glass than it was quickly snatched out of my hands.
I turned round.

Captain Nemo was before me, but I did not know him.
His face was transfigured.

His eyes flashed sullenly; his teeth were set; his stiff body, clenched fists, and head shrunk between his shoulders, betrayed the violent agitation that pervaded his whole frame.

He did not move.

My glass, fallen from his hands, had rolled at his feet.
Had I unwittingly provoked this fit of anger?
Did this incomprehensible person imagine that I had discovered some forbidden secret?
No; I was not the object of this hatred, for he was not looking at me; his eye was steadily fixed upon the impenetrable point of the horizon.