released for want of sufficient evidence.  But the Marquise de Brinvilliers remained at Liege, and although she was shut up in a convent she had by no means abandoned one, at any rate, of the most worldly pleasures.  She had soon found consolation for the death of Sainte-Croix, whom, all the same, she had loved so much as to be willing to kill herself for his sake.  But she had adopted a new lover, Theria by name.  About this man it has been impossible to get any information, except that his name was several times mentioned during the trial.  Thus, all the accusations had, one by one, fallen upon her, and it was resolved to seek her out in the retreat where she was supposed to be safe.  The mission was difficult and very delicate.  Desgrais, one of the cleverest of the officials, offered to undertake it.  He was a handsome man, thirty-six years old or thereabouts:  nothing in his looks betrayed his connection with the police; he wore any kind of dress with equal ease and grace, and was familiar with every grade in the social scale, disguising himself as a wretched tramp or a noble lord.  He was just the right man, so his offer was accepted.

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