He started accordingly for Liege, escorted by several archers, and, fortified by a letter from the king addressed to the Sixty of that town, wherein Louis xiv demanded the guilty woman to be given up for punishment.  After examining the letter, which Desgrais had taken pains to procure, the council authorised the extradition of the marquise.

This was much, but it was not all.  The marquise, as we know, had taken refuge in a convent, where Desgrais dared not arrest her by force, for two reasons:  first, because she might get information beforehand, and hide herself in one of the cloister retreats whose secret is known only to the superior; secondly, because Liege was so religious a town that the event would produce a great sensation:  the act might be looked upon as a sacrilege, and might bring about a popular rising, during which the marquise might possibly contrive to escape.  So Desgrais paid a visit to his wardrobe, and feeling that an abbe’s dress would best free him from suspicion, he appeared at the doors of the convent in the guise of a fellow-countryman just returned from Rome, unwilling to pass through Liege without presenting his compliments to the lovely and unfortunate marquise.  Desgrais had just the manner of the younger son of a great house:  he was as flattering as a courtier, as enterprising as a musketeer.  In this first visit he made himself attractive by his wit and his audacity, so much so that more easily than he had dared to hope, he got leave to pay a second call.  The second visit was not long delayed:  Desgrais presented himself the very next day.  Such eagerness was flattering to the marquise, so Desgrais was received even better than the night before.  She, a woman of rank and fashion, for more than a year had been robbed of all intercourse with people of a certain set, so with Desgrais the marquise resumed her Parisian manner.  Unhappily the charming abbe was to leave Liege in a few days; and on that account he became all the more pressing, and a third visit, to take place next day, was formally arranged.  Desgrais was punctual:  the marquise was impatiently waiting him; but by a conjunction of circumstances that Desgrais had no doubt arranged beforehand, the amorous meeting was disturbed two or three times just as they were getting more intimate and least wanting to be observed.  Desgrais complained of these tiresome checks; besides, the marquise and he too would be compromised:  he owed concealment to his cloth:  He begged her to grant him a rendezvous outside the town, in some deserted walk, where there would be no fear of their being recognised or followed:  the marquise hesitated no longer than would serve to put a price on the favour she was granting, and the rendezvous was fixed for the same evening.