"Who is M. Percerin?"
"Only the king's tailor!"
"Oh, ah, yes," said Porthos, who wished to appear to know the king's tailor, but now heard his name mentioned for the first time;—"to M. Percerin's, by Jove! I thought he would be too much engaged."
"Doubtless he will be; but be at ease, Porthos; he will do for me what he won't do for another. Only you must allow yourself to be measured!"
"Ah!" said Porthos, with a sigh, "'tis vexatious, but what would you have me do?"
"Do? as others do; as the king does."
"What! do they measure the king too? does he put up with it?"
"The king is a beau, my good friend, and so are you, too, whatever you may say about it."
Porthos smiled triumphantly. "Let us go to the king's tailor," he said; "and since he measures the king, I think, by my faith, I may well allow him to measure me!"