Arthur Conan Doyle

“ There in the mirror was the brilliant chamber, the deep red ottoman, and the single figure in its gauzy dress of white and silver. She leaned upon her elbow, admiring the deep tint of her own eyes with their long dark lashes, the white curve of her throat, and the perfect oval of her face. She examined it all carefully, keenly, as though it were her rival that lay before her, but nowhere could she see a scratch of Time's malicious nails. She still had her beauty, then. And if it had once won the king, why should it not suffice to hold him? ”

“ Believe me, you will ruin everything if you do. Strict orders have been given to the guard to admit no one to the king."
"But I shall insist upon passing them."
"Believe me, sister, it is worse than useless. I have spoken with the officer of the guard, and the command is a stringent one."
"Ah, I shall manage."
"No, you shall not." He put his back against the door. "I know that it is useless, and I will not have my sister make herself the laughing-stock of the court, trying to force her way into the room of a man who repulses her." ”

“ After all, they are the king's messengers, and we can scarce pass our swords through them."
"No?"
"There would be no forgiveness for that."
"But consider that before the matter is looked into I shall have regained my influence with the king."
"All very fine, my little sister, but how long is your influence to last? A pleasant life for us if at every change of favour we have to fly the country! No, no, Francoise; the most that we can do is to detain the messengers." ”