"I will tell you: I am making my will." And while saying these words, the good Porthos looked sadly in the face of Aramis.
"Your will!" cried the bishop. "What then! do you think yourself lost?"
"I feel fatigued. It is the first time, and there is a custom in our family."
"What is it, my friend?"
"My grandfather was a man twice as strong as I am."
"Indeed!" said Aramis: "then your grandfather must have been Samson himself."
"No; his name was Antoine. Well! he was about my age, when setting out one day for the chase, he felt his legs weak, he who had never known this before."
"What was the meaning of that fatigue, my friend?"
"Nothing good, as you will see: for having set out, complaining still of the weakness of his legs, he met a wild boar, which made head against him; he missed him with his arquebuse, and was ripped up by the beast, and died directly."
"There is no reason in that why you should alarm yourself, dear Porthos."