“Oh, no! on the contrary, I had a magnificent dressing-gown to wear. The lackey obeyed; I dressed myself in my own clothes, which had become too large for me; but a strange circumstance had happened,—my feet had become too large.”
“Yes, I quite understand.”
“And my boots too small.”
“You mean your feet were still swollen?”
“Exactly; you have hit it.”
“Pardieu! And is that the accident you were going to tell me about?”
“Oh, yes; I did not make the same reflection you have done. I said to myself: ‘Since my feet have entered my boots ten times, there is no reason why they should not go in the eleventh.’”
“Allow me to tell you, my dear Porthos, that on this occasion you failed in your logic.”
“In short, then, they placed me opposite to a part of the room which was partitioned; I tried to get my boot on; I pulled it with my hands, I pushed with all the strength of the muscles of my leg, making the most unheard-of efforts, when suddenly the two tags of my boot remained in my hands, and my foot struck out like a ballista.”
“How learned you are in fortification, dear Porthos.”