Arthur Conan Doyle

“ And away went the little clump of guardsmen with the sergeant in the rear.
The Huguenot had stood in the background, grave and composed, without any sign of exultation, during this sudden reversal of fortune; but when the soldiers were gone, he and the young officer turned warmly upon each other.
"Amory, I had not hoped to see you!"
"Nor I you, uncle. What, in the name of wonder, brings you to Versailles?"
"My wrongs, Amory. The hand of the wicked is heavy upon us, and whom can we turn to save only the king?"
The young officer shook his head. "The king is at heart a good man," said he. ”

“ I am a soldier of the king's, and I am willing to let the black gown and the white surplice settle these matters between them. Let me live in honour and die in my duty, and I am content to wait to know the rest. ”

“ Just as the captain pleases." He gave a little shrug of his epauletted shoulders to signify his doubt whether any good could arise from it.
"No," said De Catinat, with a sudden happy thought. "I charge them with laying their halberds down while on duty, and with having their uniforms dirty and disarranged."
"That is better," answered the sergeant, with the freedom of a privileged veteran. "Thunder of God, but you have disgraced the guards! An hour on the wooden horse with a musket at either foot may teach you that halberds were made for a soldier's hand, and not for the king's grass-plot. ”