With rage in his heart and their laughter, their mocking, triumphant laughter, in his ears, he sprang down the steps.
A coward! That was what he must seem to them.

A coward's part, that was the part they had seen him play.

Into the darkness, into the night, what mattered whither, when such fierce anger boiled within him?
Such self-contempt.

What mattered whither when he knew how he had failed! Ay, failed and played the Tissot! The Tissot and the weakling!.