He talks to them only of their toilet, of which he declares himself a severe and minute judge, and on which he indulges in not very delicate jests; or again, on the number of their children, demanding of them in rude language whether they nurse them themselves; or again, lecturing them on their social relations."[1291] Hence, "there is not one who does not rejoice when he moves off."[1292] He would often amuse himself by putting them out of countenance, scandalizing and bantering them to their faces, driving them into a corner the same as a colonel worries his canteen women.
"Yes, ladies, you furnish the good people of the Faubourg Saint-Germain with something to talk about.

It is said, Madame A..., that you are intimate with Monsieur B..., and you Madame C...., with Monsieur D." On any intrigue chancing to appear in the police reports, "he loses no time in informing the husband of what is going on."-- He is no less indiscreet in relation to his own affairs;[1293] when it is over he divulges the fact and gives the name; furthermore, he informs Josephine in detail and will not listen to any reproach: "I have a right to answer all your objections with an eternal I!" This term, indeed, answers to everything, and he explains it by adding: "I stand apart from other men.

I accept nobody's conditions," nor any species of obligation, no code whatever, not even the common code of outward civility, which, diminishing or dissimulating primitive brutality, allows men to associate together without clashing.

He does not comprehend it, and he repudiates it.

"I have little liking,"[1294] he says, "for that vague, leveling word propriety (convenances), which you people fling out every chance you get.