"Monsieur, it is necessary to answer not only these questions, but all the further ones that I shall ask you. And how can you play the part of Nero, or any other that you wish to, unless you are as well acquainted with the life of the personage whom you are representing as with your own?" "I was under the impression, Mademoiselle, that in order to grasp the sense of his rôle, it was quite sufficient to be acquainted with the play." "And you were under a wrong impression, Monsieur."[185] In the midst of her histrionic triumphs, Mlle. Clairon continued her career of gallantry. To Marmontel succeeded the Bailli de Fleury, "understudied" by a M. de Villeguillon, an officer of Musketeers. Soon both these gentlemen were discarded in favour of the Marquis de Ximenès, a young man of twenty-five, with a considerable fortune. The marquis, who was by way of being a poet, began his wooing by inditing sonnets to the lady's eyes, which, however, were very coldly received. Thereupon, changing his tactics, he sent her a Périgueux _pâté_, in which he had caused to be inserted, in the guise of truffles, six rouleaux of fifty louis each. The rouleaux were much more to Mlle. Clairon's taste than the verses had been, and, when her generous admirer presented himself that evening, her door was no longer closed to him. The marquis loved the lady very dearly. For her sake, he abandoned a former enchantress of the name of Mainville, "who had already plucked some of his feathers." For her sake, he parted with a fine estate in Champagne and laid the proceeds at her feet. And every day he came to visit her "in an equipage of the most brilliant description, with two tall lackeys in the rumble, and a running footman preceding it, all superbly habited."[186] Finally, however, she killed his love with a _bon mot_. A fair colleague in the green-room, with whom she was having words, happened to remark that Monsieur le Marquis had turned Mademoiselle's head. "Yes," snapped the actress, "away from him." M. de Ximenès, be it said, was not an Adonis. This injudicious speech was duly reported to the marquis, who, stung to the quick, quitted the lady for ever. Mlle. Clairon wrote demanding the return of a portrait of herself which she had given him. It came, and, with it, these cruel verses:-- "Tout s'use, tout périt, tu le prouves, Clairon; Ce pastel dont tu m'a fait don, Du temps a ressenti l'outrage Il t'en ressemble davantage."[187] To M. de Ximenès succeeded a gentleman who, for some time, baffled the curiosity of Berryer's inspectors by invariably visiting the actress under cover of night, in a hackney-coach, and with his features concealed by a cloak. Ultimately, it transpired that the mysterious admirer was the Marquis de Bauffremont, who having recently married--and not for love--a lady of a very jealous disposition, had strong reasons for desiring to hide his identity.[188]