In one
of his outbursts he threw his snuff-box with a crash upon the floor as a
spoiled child would hurl down its toys.
'Morality!' he cried, 'morality was not made for me, and I was not made
for morality. I am a man apart, and I accept nobody's conditions.
I tell you always, Josephine, that these are the foolish phrases of
mediocre people who wish to fetter the great. They do not apply to me.
I will never consent to frame my conduct by the puerile arrangements of
society.'
'Have you no feeling then?' sobbed the Empress.
'A great man is not made for feeling. It is for him to decide what he
shall do, and then to do it without interference from anyone. It is
your place, Josephine, to submit to all my fancies, and you should think
it quite natural that I should allow myself some latitude.'
It was a favourite device of the Emperor's, when he was in the wrong
upon one point, to turn the conversation round so as to get upon some
other one on which he was in the right. Having worked off the first
explosion of his passion he now assumed the offensive, for in argument,
as in war, his instinct was always to attack.
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