Countess Quotes

Fatigued by her journey, the Countess soon after supper proposed retiring to rest; a proposal extremely agreeable to Madeline, whose spirits still felt agitated. The Countess conducted her to her chamber, which was near her own, and at the end of a long gallery that overlooked the hall; here they parted; but a servant remained, who offered to assist Madeline in undressing; an offer which she, never accustomed to such attendance, refused; and, feeling a restraint in her presence, dismissed her; yet scarcely had she done so, ere she felt an uneasy sensation, something like fear, stealing over her mind as she looked round her spacious and gloomy apartment; nor could she prevent herself from starting as the tapestry, which represented a number of grotesque and frightful figures, agitated by the wind that whistled through the crevices, every now and then swelled from the walls. She sat down near the door, wishing herself again in her own little chamber, and attentively listening for a passing step that she might desire the servant she had dismissed to be recalled; but all was profoundly still, and continued so; and at length she recollected herself, blushed for the weakness she had betrayed; and, recommending herself to the protection of heaven, retired to bed, where she soon forgot her cares and fears. She awoke in the morning with renovated spirits; and, impatient to gratify her curiosity by examining the contents of the chamber, instantly rose: the furniture was rich but old-fa ~ Regina Maria Roche

How sweet he is!" said Countess Marya, looking at the baby and playing with him. "This is what I don't understand, Nicolas," she turned to her husband. "How is it you don't understand the charm of these charming little miracles?" "I just don't, I can't," said Nikolai, looking at the baby with a cold gaze. "A piece of meat. ~ Leo Tolstoy

Slowly the big gates opened. Red-gold fire glow from inside silhouetted a number of figures who moved out toward the bridge, where the strengthening light picked out the drawn swords, the spears, the dark cloaks, and the helmed heads of the Renselaeus warriors. They were wearing their own colors, and battle gear. No liveries, no pretense of being mere servants. In the center of their formation were Khesot and the four others--unarmed.
There were no shouts, no trumpets, nothing but the ringing of iron-shod boots on the stones of the bridge, and the clank of ready weaponry.
Could we rescue them? I could not see Khesot's face, but in the utter stillness with which they stood, I read hopelessness.
I readied myself once again--
Then from the center of their forces stepped a single equerry, with a white scarf tied to a pole. He started up the path that we meant to descend. As he walked the light strengthened, now illuminating details. Still with that weird detachment I looked at his curly hair, the freckles on his face, his small nose. We could cut him down in moments, I thought, and then winced the thought away. We were not Galdran. I waited.
He stopped not twenty-five paces from me and said loudly, "Countess, we request a parley."
Which made it obvious they knew we were there.
Questions skittered through my mind. Had Khesot talked? How otherwise could the enemy have seen us? The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent ~ Sherwood Smith

There is no knowledge for which so great a price is paid as a knowledge of the world; and no one ever became an adept in it except at the expense of a hardened or a wounded heart. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Violet, the Dowager Countess: 'I have plenty of friends I don't like. ~ Jessica Fellowes

Coward," Prudence shouted from the top of the steps. Sebastian saw several people stop and turn to stare in shock at the sight of the Countess of Angelstone yelling after her husband like a fishwife. Sebastian could not resist turning around, too. Prudence was standing in the doorway, glaring furiously. Even as he watched, she stamped one small foot in exasperation. Directly behind her loomed Flowers with an unholy grin on his normally dour face. It occurred to Sebastian that he had never seen Flowers smile like that. Sebastian's spirits lightened abruptly. He found himself grinning, too, in spite of his bedeviled mood. In addition to a host of other endearing wifely virtues, Prudence could play the shrew. Fresh confirmation of what he already knew, Sebastian decided. Life with her would never be dull. ~ Amanda Quick

The white hands of the tenebrous belle deal the hand of destiny. Her fingernails are longer than those of the mandarins of ancient China and each is pared to a fine point. These and teeth as fine and white as spikes of spun sugar are the visible signs of the destiny she wistfully attempts to evade via the arcana; her claws and teeth have been sharpened on centuries of corpses, she is the last bud of the poison tree that sprang from the loins of Vlad the Impaler who picnicked on corpses in the forests of Transylvania.
The walls of her bedroom are hung with black satin, embroidered with tears of pearl. At the rooms four corners are funerary urns and bowls which emit slumbrous, pungent fumes of incense. In the centre is an elaborate catafalque, in ebony, surrounded by long candles in enormous silver candlesticks. In a white lace negligee stained a little with blood, the Countess climbs up on her catafalque at dawn each morning and lies down in an open coffin. ~ Angela Carter

Fighting me would be an exercise in futility, Countess." As if to assert his point, he reached out to grasp her jaw, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "As would trying to escape." Narrowing her eyes, she held her voice firm. "Yet I am certain my attempts could be very vexing." For an eternity, they stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills. Rafael's scowl deepened before he released her. ~ Brooklyn Ann

Society punishes not the vices of its members, but their detection ... ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

I am leaving in the morning Lady Grantham. I doubt we will meet again." Sir Richard

"Do you promise?" Dowager Countess Violet ~ Dowager Countess Violet Grantham

Love in France is a comedy; in England a tragedy; in Italy an opera seria; and in Germany a melodrama. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

The most certain mode of making people content with us is to make them content with themselves. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Royce understood then why she had come: she had come to finish the task her relatives had begun; to do to him what he had done to her brother. Unmoving, he watched her, noting that tears were pouring down her beautiful face as she slowly bent down. But instead of reaching for his lance or her dagger, she took his hand between both of hers and pressed her lips to it. Through his daze of pain and confusion, Royce finally understood that she was kneeling to him, and a groan tore from his chest: "Darling," he said brokenly, tightening his hand, trying to make her stand, "don't do this…"
But his wife wouldn't listen. In front of seven thousand onlookers, Jennifer Merrick Westmoreland, countess of Rockbourn, knelt before her husband in a public act of humble obeisance, her face pressed to his hand, her shoulders wrenched with violent sobs. By the time she finally arose, there could not have been many among the spectators who had not seen what she had done. Standing up, she stepped back, lifted her tear-streaked face to his, and squared her shoulders.
Pride exploded in Royce's battered being - because, somehow, she was managing to stand as proudly - as defiantly - as if she had just been knighted by a king. ~ Judith McNaught

Both the countess and Sonya understood that, naturally, neither Moscow, nor the burning of Moscow, nor anything else, could seem of importance to Natasha. ~ Leo Tolstoy

The Earl and Countess of Langford!"

That announcement caused an immediate reaction among the inhabitants of the ballroom, who began looking at one another in surprise and then turned to the balcony, but it was nothing compared to the reaction among the small group of seven people who'd been keeping a vigil of hope. A jolt went through the entire group; hands reached out blindly and were clasped tightly by other hands; faces lifted to the balcony, while joyous smiles dawned brightly and eyes misted with tears.

Attired in formal black evening clothes with white waistcoat and frilled white shirt, Stephen Westmoreland, Earl of Langford, was walking across the balcony. On his arm was a medieval princess clad in a pearl-encrusted ivory satin gown with a low, square bodice that tapered to a deep V at the waist. A gold chain with clusters of diamonds and pearls in each link rode low on her hips, sawying with each step, and her hair tumbled in flaming waves and heavy curls over her shoulders and back. ~ Judith McNaught

Heaven sends us misfortunes as a moral tonic. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

When the body, washed and dressed, lay in the coffin on a table, everyone came to take leave of him and they all wept.

Little Nicholas cried because his heart was rent by painful perplexity. The countess and Sonya cried from pity for Natasha and because he was no more. The old count cried because he felt that before long, he, too, must take the same terrible step.

Natasha and Princess Mary also wept now, but not because of their own personal grief; they wept with a reverent and softening emotion which had taken possession of their souls at the consciousness of the simple and solemn mystery of death that had been accomplished in their presence. ~ Leo Tolstoy

His mother made a noise that in anyone of lower rank than a countess would have been given the unmannerly name of snort. As a cowed member of the ton had once commented, 'Nobody harrumphs quite like the Marchioness of Uppington. ~ Lauren Willig

Le sang nouveau est arrivé," said Vlad.


"Carpe diem," said the Count.


"By the throat," said the Countess. ~ Terry Pratchett

I ought to have lived in the eighteen hundreds,' he said himself. 'What I want is a patron. I should have published my poems by subscription and dedicated them to a nobleman. I long to compose rhymed couplets upon the poodle of a countess. My soul yearns for the love of chambermaids and the conversation of bishops. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

Try it for your father, dear," said the Countess. "Quickly, before it congeals. ~ Terry Pratchett

Loss of prestige? In what way?" I asked.
He sat back, his eyes glinting with amusement. "First there was the matter of a--very--public announcement of a pending execution, following which the intended victim escapes. Then…didn't you stop to consider that the countryside folk who endured many long days of constant martial interference in the form of searches, curfews, and threats might have a few questions about the justice of said threats--or the efficacy of all these armed and mounted soldiery tramping through their fields and farms unsuccessfully trying to flush a single unarmed, rather unprepossessing individual? Especially when said individual took great care not to endanger anyone beyond the first--anonymous--family to give her succor, to whom she promised there would be no civil war?"
I gasped. "I never promised that. How could I? I promised that Bran and I wouldn't carry our fight into their territory."
Shevraeth's smile was wry. "But you must know how gossip gets distorted when it burns across the countryside, faster than a summer hayfire. And you had given the word of a countess. You have to remember that a good part of our…influence…is vouchsafed in our status, after the manner of centuries of habit. It is a strength and a weakness, a good and an evil."
I winced, thinking of Ara, who knew more about history than I did.
"Though you seem to be completely unaware of it, you have become a heroine to the entire kingdom. What is probably more impo ~ Sherwood Smith

There are some chagrins of the heart which a friend ought to try to console without betraying a knowledge of their existence, as there are physical maladies which a physician ought to seek to heal without letting the sufferer know that he has discovered their extent. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

But there was about her the mysterious authority of beauty, a sureness in the carriage of the head, the movement of the eyes, which, without being in the least theatrical, struck him as highly trained and full of a conscious power. (Newland Archer of Countess Olenska) ~ Edith Wharton

She danced the dance so well, so well indeed, so perfectly, that Anisya Fyodorovna, who handed her at once the kerchief she needed in the dance, had tears in her eyes, though she laughed as she watched that slender and graceful little countess, reared in silk and velvet, belonging to another world than hers, who was yet able to understand all that was in Anisya and her father and her mother and her aunt and every Russian soul. ~ Leo Tolstoy

There is no magician like love. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

The vices of the rich and great are mistaken for error; and those of the poor and lowly, for crimes. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Allow me to introduce myself... I'm the Countess... ~ American Horror Story

Men who would persecute others for religious opinions, prove the errors of their own. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Like most geniuses, the Countess was a very limited person. Sigmund Freud was so ignorant of the art that Surrealist painters had to explain then- use of Freudian symbols over and over again, and he still didn't get it. Einstein never could remember to take the biscuits out of oven. Those same forces that drive a genius to create things or ideas that entertain or enlighten us often gobble so much of his personality that he has none left for the social graces (Should you invite Van Gogh to your home he might stand on your sofa in his muddy boots and pee where he pleased), and the very act of creation requires such focused concentration that vast areas of knowledge may be completely overlooked. Well, so what? There is no evidence that generalized skills are in any way superior to specialized brilliance, and certainly that sputter less little candle. Same of the mediocre mind known as "common sense" has never produced anything worth celebrating. ~ Tom Robbins

Praise is the only gift for which people are really grateful. Marguerite, Countess of Blessington I praise loudly; I blame softly. ~ Catherine The Great

Listeners beware, for ye are doomed never to hear good of yourselves. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

I'm certain Blackmoor will protect you from anything over unusual, my dear." Alex looked at her companion and tilted her head, pretending to consider the statement before turning back to the countess. "I suppose he'll have to do. ~ Sarah MacLean

Hey - we have a problem. You have some unexpected guests down at the gate. You should go check it out."

Guests? Who would come here to see me?

I hop in the golf cart and drive down to the main gate. Just in time to hear Franny Barrister, the Countess of Ellington, tearing into a poor, clueless Matched security guard.

"Don't you tell me we can't come in, you horse's arse. Where's Henry - what have you done with him?"

Simon, my brother's best friend, sees me approach, his sparkling blue eyes shining. "There he is."

I nod to security and open the gate.

"Simon, Franny, what are you doing here?"

"Nicholas said you didn't sound right the last time he spoke to you. He asked us to peek in on you," Simon explains.

Franny's shrewd gaze rakes me over. "He doesn't look drunk. And he obviously hasn't hung himself from the rafters - that's better than I was expecting."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Simon peers around the grounds, at the smattering of crew members and staging tents. "What the hell is going on, Henry?"

I clear my throat. "So . . . the thing is . . . I'm sort of . . . filming a reality dating television show here at the castle and we started with twenty women and now we're down to four, and when it's over one of them will get the diamond tiara and become my betrothed. At least in theory."

It sounded so much better in my head.

"D ~ Emma Chase

These personages, grouped about the toilet-table where the Countess sat under the hands of a Parisian hairdresser, were picturesquely relieved against the stucco panelling and narrow mirrors of the apartment, with its windows looking on a garden set with mossy statues. To Odo, however, the scene suggested the most tedious part of his day's routine. The compliments to be exchanged, the silly verses to be praised, the gewgaws from Paris to be admired, were all contrasted in his mind with the vision of that other life which had come to him on the hillside of the Superga. On ~ Edith Wharton

Those can most easily dispense with society who are the most calculated to adorn it; they only are dependent on it who possess no mental resources, for though they bring nothing to the general mart, like beggars, they are too poor to stay at home. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Women excel more in literary judgment than in literary production,
they are better critics than authors. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

You are very cross tonight, Hart. Perhaps the lady disappointed you."
Hart stared at her over the glass he'd started to raise. "What lady?"
"The one whose perfume you positively reak of."
His brows went up."You mean the Countess von Hohenstahlen? She's eighty-two and drenches herself in scents that would make a tart blush.
"Oh. ~ Jennifer Ashley

Those who are formed to win general admiration are seldom calculated to bestow individual happiness. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

We have a reading, a talking, and a writing public. When shall we have a thinking? ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Genius is the gold in the mine, talent is the miner who works and brings it out. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

We are more prone to murmur at the punishment of our faults than to lament them. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

It was overwhelming for a girl who'd been raised in a trailer park in Cumby, Texas. (Go Trojans!) I took another hit of oxygen and got dizzy. Then I stumbled and fell. Then I hit my head on the clicky ball thing and the desk and collapsed onto the floor ~ Countess Von Fondle

In 1990, when I had just arrived in New York City as a wet-behind-the-ears 20-something girl from Arizona, I spent a year or more working as the personal secretary and secret ghostwriter to an American-born countess in her apartment on the Upper East Side. ~ Kate Christensen

A beautiful woman without fixed principles may be likened to those fair but rootless flowers which float in streams, driven by every breeze. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Many minds that have withstood the most severe trials have been broken down by a succession of ignoble cares. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

"While I agree men fancy a good meal, Meredith, I daresay the stomach is not the most direct route to a man's heart. That organ lies a good bit lower." - The Dowager Marchioness of Wallingham to the Countess of Berne upon learning of said lady's supper menu. ~ Elisa Braden

Middle-age has its compensations. You feel no need to do what you do not like. You are no longer ashamed of yourself; you are reconciled to being what you are, and you do not much mind what people think of you. ~ Selina Hastings, Countess Of Huntingdon

Countess Judith kept her husband's head in a box. At night it perched on the pillow by her side, at meals it sat on the board by her plate, and her household feared it almost as much as they feared her. She talked to it, they whispered among themselves, and who was to say it didn't answer. ~ Sylvian Hamilton

To appear rich, we become poor. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Writer Somerset Maugham, after his parents deaths, spent a few stultifying years in his uncle's vicarage. Later, in his teens at a boarding-school, having lost his belief in the existence of God said: "The whole horrible structure, based not on the love of God, but on the fear of hell, tumbled down like a house of cards." ~ Selina Hastings, Countess Of Huntingdon

Thomas Middleditch, 'Sir, you are brillant... ly disturbed! ~ Rocky Flintstone

Who is it from?" Savona asked.
I looked up at him, trying to divine whether the secret knowledge lay behind his expression of interest.
"Of course she cannot tell," Tamara said, her tone mock chiding--a masterpiece of innuendo, I realized. "But…perhaps a hint, Countess?"
"I can't, because it's a secret to me, too." I looked around. Nothing but interest in all the faces, from Savona's friendly skepticism to Shevraeth's polite indifference. Shevraeth looked more tired than ever. "The best kind, because I get the ring and don't have to do anything about it!"
Everyone laughed.
"Now that," Savona said, taking my arm, "is a direct challenge, is it not? Geral? Danric? I take you to witness." We started strolling along the pathway. "But first, to rid myself of this mysterious rival. Have you kissed anyone since yesterday? Winked? Sent a posy-of-promise?" He went on with so many ridiculous questions I couldn't stop laughing.
The others had fallen in behind. Conversations crossed the group, preventing it from breaking into smaller groups. Before too long Tamara brought us all together again. She was now the center of attention as she summoned Savona to her side to admire a new bracelet.
This was fine with me. I did not like being the center, and I felt jangled and uneasy. Had I betrayed myself in any important way? Had I been properly polite to Shevraeth? The few times he spoke I was careful to listen and to smile just like the others.
When I fou ~ Sherwood Smith

Glancing from Marcus to Livia, she exploded, "What is the source of this family's infernal obsession with Americans?"
"What an interesting question, Mother," Livia said drolly. "For some reason none of your offspring can stand the thought of marrying one of their own kind. Why do you suppose that is, Marcus?"
"I suspect the answer would not be flattering to any of us," came his sardonic reply.
-The Countess (their mother), Livia, & Marcus ~ Lisa Kleypas

Speaking of debutantes," Jake continued cautiously when Ian remained silent, "what about the one upstairs? Do you dislike her especially, or just on general principle?"
Ian walked over to the table and poured some Scotch into a glass. He took a swallow, shrugged, and said, "Miss Cameron was more inventive than some of her vapid little friends. She accosted me in a garden at a party."
"I can see how bothersome that musta been," Jake joked, "having someone like her, with a face that men dream about, tryin' to seduce you, usin' feminine wiles on you. Did they work?"
Slamming the glass down on the table, Ian said curtly, "They worked." Coldly dismissing Elizabeth from his mind, he opened the deerskin case on the table, removed some papers he needed to review, and sat down in front of the fire.
Trying to suppress his avid curiosity, Jake waited a few minutes before asking, "Then what happened?"
Already engrossed in reading the documents in his hand, Ian said absently and without looking up, "I asked her to marry me; she sent me a note inviting me to meet her in the greenhouse; I went there; her brother barged in on us and informed me she was a countess, and that she was already betrothed."
The topic thrust from his mind, Ian reached for the quill lying on the small table beside his chair and made a note in the margin of the contract.
"And?" Jake demanded avidly.
"And what?"
"And then what happened-after the brother barged in?"
"He ~ Judith McNaught

My incomparable beloved,
Seven months you have been gone, and I fear you will never return. I await your brief, infrequent letters like a boy, desperate for any small indication that you remember I exist, hoping for evidence that you tire of that foreign land where you now live. I read your missives a hundred times for the slightest intimation that you will be coming home. The part of my mind that does nothing but wait grows daily, and soon nothing will be left to attend to life's duties. One word, my love, just one; that is all I seek. One word to let me know that you will not stay away forever, and that I will at least have your presence and friendship in my life, even if I can never have your passion and your love.
Julian Hampton to Penelope, Countess of Glasbury ~ Madeline Hunter

Is my gardener's pride to be sacrificed on the altar of Mr Molesley's ambitions?
- The Dowager Countess(Maggie Smith) ~ Julian Fellowes

Love matches are made by people who are content, for a month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

I am often tired of myself, and I have a notion that by travel I can add to my personality, and so change myself a little. I do not bring back from a journey quite the same self that I took. ~ Selina Hastings, Countess Of Huntingdon

Haste is always ungraceful. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

To Lillian's surprise, she had been seated near the head of Lord Westcliff's table, only three places away from his right hand. Occupying a place so close to the host was a mark of high favor, very seldom given to an unmarried girl with no rank. Wondering if the footman had make a mistake in seating her there, she glanced cautiously at the faces of those guests nearest her, and saw that they too were puzzled by her presence. Even the countess, who was being seated at the very end of the table, stared at her with a frown.
Lillian gave Lord Westcliff a questioning glance as he took his place at the head of the table. One of his dark brows arched. "Is something amiss? You seem a bit perturbed, Miss Bowman."
The correct response would probably have been to blush and thank him for the unexpected honor. But as Lillian stared at his face, which was softened by the influence of candleglow, she found herself answering with brazen frankness. "I am wondering why I am sitting near the head of the table. In light of what happened this morning, I assumed you would have me seated all the way out on the back terrace."
There was a moment of utter silence as the guests around them registered shock that Lillian would so openly refer to the conflict between them. However, Westcliff astonished them all by laughing quietly, his gaze locked with hers. After a moment, the others joined in with forced chuckles.
"Knowing of your penchant for trouble, Miss Bowman, I have conclud ~ Lisa Kleypas

There were no shouts, no trumpets, nothing but the ringing of iron-shod boots on the stones of the bridge, and the clank of ready weaponry.
Could we rescue them? I could not see Khesot's face, but in the utter stillness with which they stood, I read hopelessness.
I readied myself once again--
Then from the center of their forces stepped a single equerry, with a white scarf tied to a pole. He started up the path that we meant to descend. As he walked the light strengthened, now illuminating details. Still with that weird detachment I looked at his curly hair, the freckles on his face, his small nose. We could cut him down in moments, I thought, and then winced the thought away. We were not Galdran. I waited.
He stopped not twenty-five paces from me and said loudly, "Countess, we request a parley."
Which made it obvious they knew we were there.
Questions skittered through my mind. Had Khesot talked? How otherwise could the enemy have seen us? The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.
I stood up. "Here. State your message."
"A choice. You surrender, and your people can then disperse to their homes. Otherwise, we start with them." He pointed to the bridge. "Then everyone else." He lifted his hand, indicating the ridge up behind us.
I turned, and shock burned through me when I saw an uncountable host lined along the rocks we'd descended from half a n ~ Sherwood Smith

I don't know how these matters are supposed to go," she said finally, in the dark. "I was raised amid mountains and the Milky Way. But it seems to me that if a lady tells a gentleman she is in love with him, even if she's actually just a serf, he ought to either reciprocate the emotion or else leave the room."
"Oh? Is there not a third option? Perhaps, say, a thorough ravishment instead?"
"That is hardly gentlemanly. And I don't think you should call me Princess any longer, either. I'll be a countess, I suppose."
"No, beloved. Remember? A king."
"I'll settle for queen. ~ Shana Abe

Instantly Pandora nudged her chair with the back of her leg, toppling it over. "Blast," she exclaimed. "How did that happen?"
The countess turned to face her. "Pandora, that word!"
"What should I say when I knock something over?"
There was a brief silence as Lady Berwick considered the question. "You may say 'alas.'"
"'Alas?' Pandora echoed in distaste. "But that's such a flabby word."
"What does it even mean?" Cassandra asked. ~ Lisa Kleypas

People are always willing to follow advice when it accords with their own wishes. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

The traffic increased when I reached the village, and when I walked into the market square I saw a large crowd gathered at one end. For a few moments I stood uncertainly, wondering whether I ought to leave or find out what the crowd was gathered for.
Suddenly they parted, and without warning two soldiers in brown and green rode side by side straight at me. Dropping my gaze to my dusty feet, I pressed back with the rest of the people on the road near me, and listened with intense relief as their horses cantered by without pausing.
The decision as to whether I should try to find out what was going on was settled for me when the crowd around me surged forward, and a man somewhere behind me called, "Hi, there! Molk! What's toward?"
"Search," a tall, bearded man said, turning. Around me people muttered questions and comments as he added, "That Countess causing all the problems up-mountain. Milord Commander Debegri has taken over the search, and he thinks she might end up this far south."
"Reward?" a woman's shrill voice called from somewhere to the left.
"Promised sixty in pure gold."
"Where from?" someone else yelled. "If it's Debegri, I wouldn't count no gold 'less I had it in hand, and then I'd test it."
This caused a brief, loud uproar of reaction, then the bearded man bellowed, "The King! Sixty for information that proves true. Double that for a body. Preferably alive, though they don't say by how much."
Some laughed, but there was an u ~ Sherwood Smith

Pleasure is like a cordial - a little of it is not injurious, but too much destroys. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

A German writer observes: The noblest characters only show themselves in their real light. All others act comedy with their fellow-men even unto the grave. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

It is a sad thing to look at happiness only through another's eyes. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

There are no persons capable of stooping so low as those who desire to rise in the world. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

The difference between weakness and wickedness is much less than people suppose; and the consequences are nearly always the same. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

You know,' said Natasha, 'you have read the Gospels a great deal - there is one place there directly about Sonya.' 'What?' asked Countess Marya, surprised. '"To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away." You remember? She is one that hath not; why, I don't know. Perhaps she lacks egotism, I don't know, but from her is taken away, and everything has been taken away. Sometimes I feel so terribly sorry for her. I used to want Nicolas to marry her so terribly before; but I always had a sort of presentiment that it would not happen. She is a sterile flower, you know - like some strawberry blossoms. Sometimes I am sorry for her, and sometimes I think she doesn't feel it as you or I would. ~ Leo Tolstoy

fond," one catty countess recalled, "with diamonds scattered ~ Candace Fleming

Violet, the Dowager Countess: I mean, one way or another, everyone goes down the aisle with half the story hidden. ~ Jessica Fellowes

Mr. Herriton, don't – please, Mr. Herriton – a dentist. His father's a dentist."
Philip gave a cry of personal disgust and pain. He shuddered all over, and edged away from his companion. A dentist! A dentist at Monteriano. A dentist in fairyland! False teeth and laughing gas and the tilting chair at a place which knew the Etruscan League, and the Pax Romana, and Alaric himself, and the Countess Matilda, and the Middle Ages, all fighting and holiness, and the Renaissance, all fighting and beauty! He thought of Lilia no longer. He was anxious for himself: he feared that Romance might die. ~ E.M. Forster

Love and enthusiasm are always ridiculous, when not reciprocated by their objects. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Madeline (said the Countess in a solemn voice), in my concern for your father, I spoke unguardedly; and I already repent having done so from the situation I see you in: but, as some atonement for doing so, I will take this opportunity of cautioning you against all imprudent curiosity; let no incentive from it ever tempt you to seek an explanation of former occurrences; be assured your happiness depends entirely on your ignorance of them: was the dark volume of your father's fate ever opened to your view, peace would for ever forsake your breast; for its characters are marked by horror, and stained with blood. ~ Regina Maria Roche

All women, from the countess to the cook-maid, are put into high good humor with themselves when a man is taken with them at firstsight. And be they ever so plain, they will find twenty good reasons to defend the judgment of such a man. ~ Samuel Richardson

She smiled serenely. "I shall put aside my feelings for the dowager countess if you care for one of her daughters ... " She looked up hopefully. "Do you care for one of her daughters?"
"I have no idea," Benedict admitted. "I never got her name. Just her glove."
Violet gave him a stern look. "I'm not even going to ask how you obtained her glove."
"It was all very innocent, I assure you."
Violet's expression was dubious in the extreme. "I have far too many sons to believe that," she muttered. ~ Julia Quinn

A profound knowledge of life is the least enviable of all species of knowledge, because it can only be acquired by trials that make us regret the loss of our ignorance. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Anna Mikhaylovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were kindhearted, and because they - friends from childhood - had to think about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over ... But those tears were pleasant to them both. ~ Leo Tolstoy

Elizabeth?" Ian said in a clipped voice.
She whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs, her hand flying to her throat, her knees turning to jelly.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"You-you startled me," she said as he strolled up to her, his expression oddly impassive. "I didn't expect you to come here," she added nervously.
"Really?" he mocked. "Whom did you expect after that note-the Prince of Wales?"
The note! Crazily, her first thought after realizing ti was from him, not Valerie, was that for an articulate man his handwriting verged on the illiterate. Her second thought was that he seemed angry about something. He didn't keep her long in doubt as to the reason.
"Suppose you tell me how, during the entire afternoon we spent together, you neglected to mention that you are Lady Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth wondered a little frantically how he'd feel if he knew she was the Countess of Havenhurst, not merely the eldest daughter of some minor noble or knight.
"Start talking, love. I'm listening."
Elizabeth backed away a step.
"Since you don't want to talk," he bit out, reaching for her arms, "is this all you wanted from me?"
"No!" she said hastily, backing out of his reach. "I'd rather talk."
He stepped forward, and Elizabeth took another step backward, exclaiming, "I mean, there are so many interesting topics for conversation, are there not?"
"Are there?" he asked, moving forward again.
"Yes," she exclaimed, ta ~ Judith McNaught

I was all, "Oh, dog, Countess gonna crack open a forty of whup-ass on you now. Oh, you in the sh*t now, wigga!" (I am not incline to use hip-hop vernacular often, but there are times when, like French, it just better expresses the sentiment of the moment.) -Abby ~ Christopher Moore

Pym!" The Countess spotted a new victim, and her voice went a little dangerous. "I seconded you to look after Miles. Would you care to explain this scene?"
There was a thoughtful pause. In a voice of simple honesty, Pym replied, "No, Milady. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

Mediocrity is beneath a brave soul. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Bores: People who talk of themselves, when you are thinking only of yourself. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

Satire, like conscience, reminds us of what we often wish to forget. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

It ain't my problem if the ladies are drawn to me," Digger said. "A gentleman doesn't turn 'em away if they're askin' for a minute or two." His eyes slid to Pippa once more. "Ain't that right, Lady Soon-to-be-a-countess?"
"I find it difficult to believe either that ladies are drawn to you or that, in such a case, you would act the part of a gentleman," Pippa retorted. ~ Sarah MacLean

Our weaknesses are the indigenous produce of our characters; but our strength is the forced fruit. ~ Marguerite Gardiner, Countess Of Blessington

If you drink the good wine of the noble countess, you have to entertain her less desirable friends. ~ Virginia Woolf

I hope I did not offend Miss Nightingale by complaining about the rat," said the countess. "I like her very much. Miss Nightingale, I mean, not the rat. ~ Mary Pope Osborne

My particular memory is of a quail-pie. Quails may be alright for Moses in the desert, but, if they are served in the form of pie at dinner, they should be distributed at a side-table, not handed round from guest to guest. The countess having shuddered at it and resumed her biscuit, it was left to me to make the opening excavation. The difficulty was to know where each quail began and ended: the job really wanted a professional quail-finder, who might have indicated the on the surface of the crust at which it would be most hopeful to dig for quails. ~ A.A. Milne

I read and reread and recommended and rarely rejected, became one of those readers who will read trashy stories as long as they're not too terrible
well, even perhaps the truly terrible ones
and will reread something she's already read, even if it's something like a detective novel, when you'd suspect that knowing who had really killed the countess would materially detract from the experience. (It doesn't, and besides, I often can't remember who the murderer was in the first place.) ~ Anna Quindlen

How did you persuade the countess to confess so quickly?" she asked. "I would have thought she would have held out for days. I would have thought she would rather die than admit anything - "
"I'm afraid that was the choice I gave her."
Her eyes widened. "Oh," she whispered.
-Lillian & Marcus ~ Lisa Kleypas

After a long moment, the Countess sat back down. "So," she said. "You ... do love her. I must say, you look peculiarly resigned to it."
He shrugged. "It is not fresh news for me."
"And for Emma?"
"Neither welcomed nor openly acknowledged."
"But acknowledged all the same, you believe."
"Perhaps," he said. "I cannot know. Not anymore."
-Delphinia, Lady Chad and Julian ~ Meredith Duran

Odd's fish, m'dear, would you have me challenge the poor countess to a duel? ~ The Scarlet Pimpernel

Not only a countess but a nymph of the greenwood, ~ Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra

I don't know how long I had been sniffing and snorting there on my broken bunk (and I didn't care who heard me) when I became aware of furtive little sounds from the corridor. Nothing loud--no more than a slight scrape--then a soft grunt of surprise.
I looked up, saw nothing in the darkness.
A voice whispered, "Countess?"
A voice I recognized. "Azmus!"
"It is I," he whispered. "Quickly--before they figure out about the doors."
"What?"
"I've been shadowing this place for two days, trying to figure a way in," he said as he eased the door open. "There must be something going on. The outer door wasn't locked tonight, and neither is this one."
"Shevraeth," I croaked.
"What?"
"Marquis of Shevraeth. Was here gloating at me. The guard must have expected him to lock it, since the grand Marquis sent the fellow away," I muttered as I got shakily to my feet. "And he--being an aristocrat, and above mundane things--probably assumed the guard would lock it. Uh! Sorry, I just can't walk--"
At once Azmus sprang to my side. Together we moved out of the corridor, me hating myself for not even thinking of trying the door--except, how could I have gotten anywhere on my own?
At the end of the corridor a long shape lay still on the ground. Unconscious or dead, I didn't know, and I wasn't going to check. I just hoped it wasn't one of the nice guards.
Outside it was raining in earnest, which made visibility difficult for our enemies as well ~ Sherwood Smith