Translations for hilt in French

Here are paragraphs from public domain books translated:

The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of mine, I thought; and, besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road, but he immediately called me back, and, as I did not obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me Jump. As soon as I was back again he returned to his former manner, half-fawning, half-sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and he had taken quite a fancy tome. "I have ason of my own," said he,"as like you as two blocks, and he's all the pride of my 'art. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny—discipline. Now, if you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be spoke to twice—not you. That was never Bill's way, nor the way of such as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, bless his old 'art, to be sure. You and me'll just go back into the parlor, sonny, and get behind the door, and we'll give Bill a little surprise—bless his 'art, I say again." So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlor, and put me behind him in the corner, so that we were both hidden by the open door. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath, and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat.

Il prononça ces mots d’un air dénué de toute bienveillance. Mais après tout ce n’était pas mon affaire, et d’ailleurs je ne savais quel parti prendre. L’étranger demeurait posté tout contre la porte de l’auberge, et surveillait le tournant comme un chat qui guette une souris. À un moment, je me hasardai sur la route, mais il me rappela aussitôt, et comme je n’obéissais pas assez vite à son gré, sa face cireuse prit une expression menaçante, et avec un blasphème qui me fit sursauter, il m’ordonna de revenir. Dès que je lui eus obéi, il revint à ses allures premières, mi-caressantes, mi-railleuses, me tapota l’épaule, me déclara que j’étais un brave garçon, et que je lui inspirais la plus vive sympathie. — J’ai moi-même un fils, ajouta-t-il, qui te ressemble comme deux gouttes d’eau, et il fait toute la joie de mon cœur. Mais le grand point pour les enfants est l’obéissance, fiston… l’obéissance. Or, si tu avais navigué avec Bill, tu n’aurais pas attendu que je te rappelle deux fois… certes non. Ce n’était pas l’habitude de Bill, ni de ceux qui naviguaient avec lui. Mais voilà, en vérité, mon camarade Bill, avec sa lunette d’approche sous le bras, Dieu le bénisse, ma foi ! Tu vas te reculer avec moi dans la salle, fiston, et te mettre derrière la porte : nous allons faire à Bill une petite surprise… Que Dieu le bénisse ! je le répète ! Ce disant, l’inconnu m’attira dans la salle et me plaça derrière lui dans un coin où la porte ouverte nous cachait tous les deux. J’étais fort ennuyé et inquiet, comme bien on pense, et mes craintes s’augmentaient encore de voir l’étranger, lui aussi, visiblement effrayé. Il dégagea la poignée de son coutelas, et en fit jouer la lame dans sa gaine ; et tout le temps que dura notre attente, il ne cessa de ravaler sa salive, comme s’il avait eu, comme on dit, un crapaud dans la gorge.

Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson

L’Île au trésor, de Robert Louis Stevenson