Ruthless battalions poured over the walls, blew up the Countess's propriety, made frightful ravages in her complexion.

Down fell her hair.
'You cannot possibly go to breakfast,' said Caroline.
'I must! I must!' cried the Countess.

'Why, my dear, if he has done it-wretched creature! don't you perceive that, by withholding our presences, we become implicated with him ?' And the Countess, from a burst of frenzy, put this practical question so shrewdly, that Caroline's wits succumbed to her.
'But he has not done it; he is acting!' she pursued, restraining her precious tears for higher purposes, as only true heroines can.

'Thinks to frighten me into submission!' 'Do you not think Evan is right in wishing us to leave, after--after--' Caroline humbly suggested.
'Say, before my venerable friend has departed this life,' the Countess took her up.

'No, I do not.