She deliberately turned her back.
Victor was upon his feet, and his bottle of wine lay frothing on the floor.

He came forward.
"Vicomte, your actions are very disagreeable to me," he said.

The end of his scabbard was aggressively high in the air.

He was not so tall a man as the vicomte, but his shoulders were as broad and his chest as deep.
Neither the vicomte nor the poet heard the surprised exclamation which came with a muffled sound from behind the grey mask.

She swayed slightly.