"You alone of our people must not pursue him." He would have added more, but Tignonville would not listen.
Brooding on his wrongs behind the wall of the Arsenal, he had let hatred eat away his more generous instincts.

Vain and conceited, he fancied that the world laughed at the poor figure he had cut; and the wound in his vanity festered until nothing would serve but to see the downfall of his enemy.

Instant pursuit, instant vengeance--only these, he fancied, could restore him in his fellows' eyes.
In his heart he knew what would become him better.

But vanity is a potent motive: and his conscience, even when supported by La Tribe, struggled but weakly.

From neither would he hear more.
"You have travelled with him, until you side with him!" he cried violently.