"At your service, sergeant."
"Tell me, old boy—"
"What is it, sergeant?"
"Doesn't it strike you that this thing is rather droll?"
"What, sergeant?"
"Well, to think that two hours ago we were trying to shoot holes through each other, and now we are exchanging courtesies."
"Don't mention it, sergeant! Shots are stupid things."
"All the more when people have no ill-will for each other—"
"Zounds! May the devil take me, sergeant, if I had any ill-will towards you! Nevertheless, for all I know, it was I who put the bullet in your loin—just as, without having the slightest ill feeling for me, you would have planted your bayonet in my bowels. Wherefore, I repeat it, it is a stupid thing for people who have no ill-will toward each other to come to blows."
"That's the truth of it."