They were like wild animals, indeed,--Louis silent, composed, serene, yet with a jaguar-like glare in his eyes, his body poised, as though to spring or defend himself, as circumstances might dictate.

Bartot, who had risen to his feet, was like a clumsy but powerful beast, showing his fierce primitivism through the disguise of clothes and his falsely human form.

To me those few seconds were absolutely thrilling! There was another man in the room, who continued writing as though nothing were happening.

A couple of strangers passed through on their way to the bar, and seemed to see nothing except the meeting of Louis--the _maitre d'hotel_--with a possible client.

Felicia had let fall her veil, so that her terror was no longer written in her face.