Grantaire is overcome by a sudden swell of disgust with himself, paying for his choices in his pathetic display now. Desperately he throws his body to the left in some poor attempt to dodge the fist, but catches it painfully in his side instead, a star bright burst of pain shaking through his weakened body.

His only hope is to run, he recognizes that, being without weapon or much strength. He could make a dive for the knife that Tom has thrown aside but the weapon is there as a temptation. To believe that seizing hold of it would put him at any great advantage was a joke. If he hadn't the strength to wield the knife in the face of such a concentrated attack he had no hope of winning, unless by some happy chance Tom tripped, and fell conveniently upon the knife.

Grantaire is not relying on happy chance and makes a fumbling effort to push himself to his feet and run, his body slow and shuddering with pain. He is not fast enough, he will not be able to escape this.