Myself.
As you bear them such a grudge, why do you not try to get back into Paris, or to rejoin the armies in the provinces? You could then fight openly, and kill the Prussians without treachery in the battles.
Join the army, Mr. Robert? . . . But I am not a soldier! My parents paid dearly enough to prevent my being one . . . I am a peasant, an unhappy peasant, who revenges himself, and requires no one to help him.
While he spoke I saw reappear in him the wild beast I had admitted the other evening. The mad glare seemed to return to his eyes. His lips were compressed. His fingers convulsively sought a weapon . . .
November 28th.