The beginning of the liaison between Mlle. Clairon and the author of the Contes moraux, which the latter relates, with much complacency, in his ever-delightful Mémoires, written, by the way, "for the instruction of his children," is distinctly amusing.
Marmontel had been in love with a certain Mlle. Navarre, whose heart he had stolen away from Maurice de Saxe, much to the indignation of the famous Marshal,[177] and who had made of him "the happiest of lovers and the most miserable of slaves." One day, he learned that his enchantress had jilted him, in his turn, for the Chevalier de Mirabeau, upon which he went home, "fell down like a sacrificed victim," and was for some time alarmingly ill. Mlle. Clairon came to console him, when the following conversation took place:—
"'My friend,' said she, 'your heart needs some object of love; you feel listless, because it is empty. You must interest; you must fill it. Is there not a woman in the world whom you can think agreeable?'
"'I know,' said I, 'only one who could comfort me if she chose, but would she be so generous.'
"'We must see as to that,' replied she, with a smile. 'Am I acquainted with her? I will endeavour to assist you.'
"'Yes, you know her, and have great influence over her.'
"'Well, what is her name? I will speak to her in your favour; I will say that you love with ardour and sincerity; that you can be faithful and constant; that she is sure of being happy in your love.'
"'So you really believe all this?'
"'Yes; I am fully persuaded of it.'
"'Be so good as to say it to yourself.'