The poor woman was trembling in every limb, but she had presence of mind to "squeege" Tom a great deal harder; and the latter took the hint, I suppose, and was silent.
The splendid Count came up.

Ye gods, how his embroidery glittered in the lamps! What a royal exhalation of musk and bergamot came from his wig, his handkerchief, and his grand lace ruffles and frills! A broad yellow riband passed across his breast, and ended at his hip in a shining diamond cross--a diamond cross, and a diamond sword-hilt! Was anything ever seen so beautiful?
And might not a poor woman tremble when such a noble creature drew near to her, and deigned, from the height of his rank and splendour, to look down upon her?
As Jove came down to Semele in state, in his habits of ceremony, with all the grand cordons of his orders blazing about his imperial person--thus dazzling, magnificent, triumphant, the great Galgenstein descended towards Mrs.Catherine.
Her cheeks glowed red-hot under her coy velvet mask, her heart thumped against the whalebone prison of her stays.

What a delicious storm of vanity was raging in her bosom! What a rush of long-pent recollections burst forth at the sound of that enchanting voice! As you wind up a hundred-guinea chronometer with a twopenny watch-key--as by means of a dirty wooden plug you set all the waters of Versailles a-raging, and splashing, and storming--in like manner, and by like humble agents, were Mrs.Catherine's tumultuous passions set going.
The Count, we have said, slipped up to his son, and merely saying, "How do, Tom ?" cut the young gentleman altogether, and passing round to the lady's side, said, "Madam, 'tis a charming evening--egad it is!" She almost fainted: it was the old voice.

There he was, after seventeen years, once more at her side! Now I know what I could have done.

I can turn out a quotation from Sophocles (by looking to the index) as well as another: I can throw off a bit of fine writing too, with passion, similes, and a moral at the end.