The offense thrills and excites him. Afforded extra privileges and eccentricities by his position, he taunts Coulmier, Napoleon, and God. Indeed, either by imprisonment or by impotence, he is abstinent throughout the film. His only crime is the obsessive need to shout what others only whisper. This compulsion to express himself reaches fantastic levels.
Writing becomes a necessity of life.
If he cannot write, he will die. We all have our compulsions. We must straighten the crooked picture, fix the misaligned sock, and fill the conversational lulls. This is not true of the Marquis. If he cannot write, he will literally die.