"If they refuse to resurrect me, then it is for the best." There was no mistaking the cold look in Courfeyrac's eyes. It was an unusual look for the generally gregarious and kind-faced young man. It was clear that the situation was pushing him into dangerous territory. "I do not wish to live in a world that is not free. If they kill me, then my problems are solved. Believe me when I say that I would kill myself now before being forced into that Arena. I love you, my friends, but I have made peace with my destiny and I have found comfort in knowing what was my fate."

But that did not erase the idea of others being tortured because of him. Immediately he was angry at Enjolras for burdening him with that guilt. That guilt mingled with the doubt he had in his own declaration. Would he really rather die now that be forced to murder the people he cared for? Would he really rather take his own life than risk potential harm to Marius, his wife, and anyone else vaguely associated with him?

"I have no chance in that Arena. That much is quite clear. Why should I bother playing the game if I will never win? You said yourself, Enjolras, you killed yourself. Did they punish you for it? Did they torture your mistress? Did they burn your possessions? I see Marius and his wife are safe and well, too." He looked at Marius then, trying to read the expression on his face and seeing only vacancy there. "There can be only one winner, Marius. It will not be me."