"Bravery borne of-- madness, and despair, it was not--" He breaks off and looks away again, runs a hand through his hair. The scars that disappear into the mess of black curls are still raised; he can feel them as he passes his hand across his brow.

He wants to apologize and retreat, shy away from pretending to take part in something he rejected and does not deserve. But the memory of his conversation with Courfeyrac pops, unbidden, into his mind. So he forces himself to lift his head and say, "But I will do-- better than I have done. I will try."

In this, at least, even if he does not know how to begin to make his other wrongs right.