Like a thief taking advantage of the sleep of his victim, he was stalking around this brave and true man who could not see him, who could not defend himself, in order to rob him of the only affection that he had in the world which had so miraculously returned to him! Very well, Gentleman Desnoyers!.

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Ah, what a scoundrel he was! Such subconscious insults made him draw himself erect, in haughty, cruel and inexorable defiance against that other I who so richly deserved the judge's scorn.
He turned his head away; he could not meet Marguerite's piteous eyes; he feared their mute reproach.

Neither did he dare to look at the blind man in his shabby and heroic uniform, with his countenance aged by duty and glory.